Trapped

Before you begin reading this blog I will let you know that this is a very personal part of my life that I haven't openly shared until now, but it's part of my testimony and I will allow God to use it in whichever way he desires. I was hesitant to write on this topic because it is so deep and personal but the Lord has confirmed it to me twice now, so I hope it blesses someone here.

Suicide is no foreign concept in scripture. We have Abimelec- who was mortally wounded by a millstone-who ordered his armour-bearer to kill him to avoid the suggestion that he had been killed by the woman who had thrown the stone. The prophet Ahithophel hung himself after betraying David. Zimri burned down his house around him after military defeat. And some of the more familiar stories: Saul and his armour-bearer, Samson, and, of course, Judas who was Jesus' disciple. Also, in Acts we find the jailor who almost committed suicide when he awoke and found his prisoners had escaped. If we take a closer examination at each of these stories we will find a common theme-- A trap. Abimelech was trapped by his reputation. Ahithophel was trapped by the guilt of betrayal and the loss of hope for restoration. Zimri felt trapped by the shame of defeat. Saul was trapped by fear of the enemy. Samson was trapped by revenge. Judas was trapped by guilt. And the jailor was trapped by fear of failure. These men saw no other way out.

Suicide occurs at the same rate within the church body of Christian believers as it does in the rest of the world (outside the body of Christian believers). How can this be? As someone who is no stranger to depression or suicidal thoughts, I will attempt to shed some light on this much overlooked statistic.

In 7th grade I was molested by my step brother. I remember feeling paralyzed with fear. How would I ever tell anyone what had happened? Would they believe me? Why did this happen to me? I felt trapped in my mind. Now, I've always dealt with depression--looking back on my childhood I realize that now. But at the time I didn't know what was wrong with me. I began to spiral into a darkness I wasn't sure I could ever escape from. I remember sitting on my bedroom floor, listening to music that I felt expressed the anger and hurt I was feeling inside; it fueled my pain. I was so desperate for someone to understand and it seemed like the only people who could were the people behind these dark lyrics. This would lead me to the first night I began cutting myself. It was such a strange, scary feeling. Strange in a way because it made me feel better and scary in a way because I only felt relief when hurting myself. That same night a group of my friends invited me to come over. I remember being in such a deep state of sadness and, then, fear--fear that one of them would see what I had just done--that I almost stayed home. But then I remembered something. There was a pill in our hall closet that could fix everything--Zoloft. I remembered when my mom use to take it and she had seemed so much happier. So I figured, if it could make her happy, why not me? I went to the closet, opened the bottle, and took the pill. No one had known what I had done that night; not until weeks later at least. Somehow, I had kept the cuts on my wrist hidden and made it over to my friends house. I had a great night.  We laughed and did what we did best: stunts and flips on the trampoline. I(f you remember from my 'Name Change Please' blog we were all on the same cheer team together.) The only time I could feel anything but sadness was when I was with my friends. It had become a coping mechanism I wasn't even aware I had developed. Weeks later the truth came out. Kids at school started to notice the scabs developing on my wrists and some classmates even began making cruel comments. I had started to worry because I went to the same school as both of my sisters. If anyone were to say anything in front of them I'd be caught.

I was still attending church occasionally with my mom at the time. One night I decided to visit. I put on a skirt, out of respect, but I did not remove the black fingernail polish from my nails. Black had become my favorite color. It was dark, just like me. One of my best friends and her family attended the same church. They loved me, and I loved them. But my friend's dad had a sense of humor which could come off as cruel sometimes and he just-so-happened to make a joke about my black fingernail polish. In the unstable emotional state I was in, I couldn't take his comment or shake it off. I ran to my moms car, locked myself in, and began to sob. Not too long after, my friend came out to comfort me. Reluctantly, I let her in. She was someone I had always shared my deepest darkest secrets with but this time, this secret, seemed too dark to share. How do you tell your best friend you have thoughts about killing yourself? How do you tell them you are inflicting pain on your body to escape what's in your mind? Well I'm not sure how it came out, but it did. It came pouring out. I was so scared she would tell, and she did. She told my older sister my deepest darkest secret, something she had never done before. I was furious. I couldn't see past the betrayal I felt to realize that she loved me enough to tell. Here it came, the intervention.

To my shock and awe, I came home one day to my mom's house and found my dad, step-mom, and sisters all sitting in the living room. Immediately I felt the shame and embarrassment of what I had done. And then came another feeling, or lack of it I should say-- numbness. I couldn't answer the questions of why I was doing this or why I felt this way. All I could do was sit in silence and feel nothing. I was trapped and I shut down. I didn't feel like anyone there really cared about how I felt; all I thought they cared about was why I would do this to them. They wanted to know why I would hurt them like this, without even realizing that I was the one hurting. They didn't experience life the same way I did. They couldn't understand the emotional fight I went through every single day. It was literally a battle every day to feel any kind of happiness. It had to be generated by something. My mind couldn't produce it on its own. I was a junkie, looking for my next dose of happy. There was a box of suicide notes stashed in my closet where no one would find them until it was time. I loved my family, and I didn't want them to remember me like this. I wrote every single person I cared about a letter, and told them how much they meant to me. Did they really think I WANTED to die? Of course I didn't want to die! But in the state of mind I was in, I couldn't see another way out. I felt like I had become a burden to my family and my friends. After all, who wants to deal with someone who is sad and angry all the time? I became trapped by despair and hopelessness.

There is an enemy out there who loves to set up traps. He's very skilled, cunning, and experienced. He watches and waits for you to fall into one of his traps and then goes in for the kill. The Bible puts it this way, "the enemy comes not, but for to steal, kill, and destroy." There are many, even amongst the Christian community, who find themselves in these traps. They know that God is real, yet still find themselves exposed to the mindset of 'stuck'. Well, I found a way out of the trap I was in; through true relationship with Jesus. It wasn't until years later that I began to see clearly the way out. That's what happens to people: they become blinded by the god of this world and can no longer see to navigate through a mine field. The trap the enemy had me in could have killed me, but Mercy said no. There's an old song I knew from my childhood and I would cry and cry when I heard it play, and still to this day. "Mercy said no, I'm not gonna let you go, I'm not gonna let you slip away, you don't have to be afraid. Mercy said no, sin will never take control, life and death stood face to face, darkness tried to steal my heart away. Thank you Jesus, mercy said no." If you are in the church today, and have faced the thought of suicide or struggle with depression, I'm here to say to you that you are not alone. There are many people who cover up depression and thoughts of suicide for fear of what people might think or say; I know, I was one of them. But God does not reveal things about us to shame us; He reveals to heal--just like He used my friend to reveal my secret. Who knows what could have happened if He had not placed her in that car in that moment. She did not betray me, she saved me. God will not betray you, He will save you.

I know there are spiritual influences that can influence us to feel certain ways and God can and will take care of the spiritual part if you will allow Him. But, sometimes, there are physical defects in a persons body that can produce feelings of sadness, loneliness, anger, ect. God has equipped people with certain knowledge and understanding to help others work through the physical elements while keeping the spiritual part in consideration. There are many wonderful Christians therapists who serve in churches all over. Sister Vani Marshall, from the Church of Alexandria, is a great example of one of these gifted people. The gift of discernment will take role in knowing the difference between a physical and spiritual issue. Seek counsel, read the Word, pray, and surround yourself with positive influences. Remember the first step the enemy will take is to blind you; then he'll bind you. It's hard to bind someone who has their eyes open, and is able to see a trap. Keep your spiritual eyes open! Let Jesus be your guide.


*Editing credit to my amazing sister, Carissa.