I always thought that being “saved” from my depression and anxiety would come like a light switch; sitting in complete darkness, and then all of the sudden WHAM—light. I thought it would be the perfect sentence, or action, or thing that happened to me that would suddenly take away the feelings and I’d be better.
I read books. I prayed to God. I spend a seemingly absurd amount of time talking to my parents over the phone. Nothing seemed to ever take away the feelings. Depression turned into enmity towards God that He wouldn’t take away the feelings, and I shamed myself cause my parents could bring me no comfort—I felt like I burdened them.
There was no word, action, or thing that saved me.
Being saved was more like watching the sunrise.
At no single moment can one define and decide that the sun’s up. Is it up at first light? When the first sliver has crevassed over the mountain in the distance? When the last bit has finally raised into the air and the entire circumference of the sun is now visible? It’s not an answerable question; the sun rises none the less. When one watches the sunrise one can’t attribute any single moment to the sun being “risen,” but one watches it slowly rise and eventually can say with complete certainty and honesty that it has risen.
When I was healing I kept expecting for someone to come in and turn on the light switch; to come in and save me from the seemingly pitch black feelings I was feeling. Nothing like this happened though.
Healing was like the sunrise.
No one single comment was enough to get the job done—to say with complete honesty that the sun’s up, or that I’m “healed.” No one event saved me from my mental illness.
What did save me then? What caused the sun to rise?
It was the collection of every positive influence in my life. The collective hours and hours spent on the phone talking to my parents about how I was feeling—they knew how I was feeling, and it was almost the same conversation every night, but their patience, encouraging words, and love was a touch of light that pushed the sun a little higher into the air, and filled my soul with a little more light. It was a collection of every prayer I sent heavenward, which answers came in small and unexpected ways. Total relief did not come for many months, for which God has his own reasons, and I have began to see them, but that’s a different story all together.
It was the collection of every faith building, hope inspiring, love based action of love that led to the sun rising in my soul, and filling my life with light. No single event, word, prayer, or call home caused the sun to suddenly “be risen,” in fact every experience that contributed to it seemed to hardly make any difference at all.
Whether you are religious or not, this council given from the LDS book of Scripture “The Doctrine and Covenants” is timeless advice and applies to all, it reads: “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.”
Or in other words: the sun never rises all at once, but it’s the small, day to day acts that cause the sun to rise on the weary soul, bit by bit.
So to my friends wandering through the night, keep trying, keep searching for that sunrise—it’ll come. Things rarely come all at once. Take any and all steps you can towards that light; even the smallest step in the right direction is a step in the right direction, and hence not a step in the wrong direction. Though your efforts may seem exhausting, and each step feels like you are going nowhere, soon you will realize that you have traveled a significant distance, and the further you travel towards the light the brighter it will grow.
To my friends who are helping another through their own personal storm and feel like their efforts are useless I say: keep trying—you are “laying the foundation of a great work…” and out of your “small” efforts will “[proceed] that which is great.”
Healing for me did not come in a single event. My life was not changed in one day, by one single person. It was changed—it was saved—by the collective efforts of my parents and friends working out of love for me over a great period of time.
There was no word, action, or thing that saved me.
Being saved was more like watching the sunrise.
At no single moment can one define and decide that the sun’s up. Is it up at first light? When the first sliver has crevassed over the mountain in the distance? When the last bit has finally raised into the air and the entire circumference of the sun is now visible? It’s not an answerable question; the sun rises none the less. When one watches the sunrise one can’t attribute any single moment to the sun being “risen,” but one watches it slowly rise and eventually can say with complete certainty and honesty that it has risen.
When I was healing I kept expecting for someone to come in and turn on the light switch; to come in and save me from the seemingly pitch black feelings I was feeling. Nothing like this happened though.
Healing was like the sunrise.
No one single comment was enough to get the job done—to say with complete honesty that the sun’s up, or that I’m “healed.” No one event saved me from my mental illness.
What did save me then? What caused the sun to rise?
It was the collection of every positive influence in my life. The collective hours and hours spent on the phone talking to my parents about how I was feeling—they knew how I was feeling, and it was almost the same conversation every night, but their patience, encouraging words, and love was a touch of light that pushed the sun a little higher into the air, and filled my soul with a little more light. It was a collection of every prayer I sent heavenward, which answers came in small and unexpected ways. Total relief did not come for many months, for which God has his own reasons, and I have began to see them, but that’s a different story all together.
It was the collection of every faith building, hope inspiring, love based action of love that led to the sun rising in my soul, and filling my life with light. No single event, word, prayer, or call home caused the sun to suddenly “be risen,” in fact every experience that contributed to it seemed to hardly make any difference at all.
Whether you are religious or not, this council given from the LDS book of Scripture “The Doctrine and Covenants” is timeless advice and applies to all, it reads: “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.”
Or in other words: the sun never rises all at once, but it’s the small, day to day acts that cause the sun to rise on the weary soul, bit by bit.
So to my friends wandering through the night, keep trying, keep searching for that sunrise—it’ll come. Things rarely come all at once. Take any and all steps you can towards that light; even the smallest step in the right direction is a step in the right direction, and hence not a step in the wrong direction. Though your efforts may seem exhausting, and each step feels like you are going nowhere, soon you will realize that you have traveled a significant distance, and the further you travel towards the light the brighter it will grow.
To my friends who are helping another through their own personal storm and feel like their efforts are useless I say: keep trying—you are “laying the foundation of a great work…” and out of your “small” efforts will “[proceed] that which is great.”
Healing for me did not come in a single event. My life was not changed in one day, by one single person. It was changed—it was saved—by the collective efforts of my parents and friends working out of love for me over a great period of time.
The Anthem of Us All 