Depression and suicide attempt healed

I first started wrestling with bouts of depression as a teenager. It continued, off and on, for many years. I never sought treatment, because I thought it was just normal for me to be sometimes up, but also to experience terrible lows.

One night about seven years ago, I hit rock bottom. I was convinced that my husband and children, whom I love very much, would be better off without me. I knew I was being a terrible role model for my kids—depressed, joyless, unhappy. In my twisted thinking, I thought it would be better for them to grow up without any mother rather than with me. Although my husband and I always had faith in God, for 20 years I had been battling these "dark" periods when I just didn't seem able to feel God's love for me.

I took a massive overdose of sleeping pills, intending to kill myself. About an hour and a half after that, it really hit me how stupid this plan was, and I realized the enormity of what I was doing. I decided I should tell my husband what I'd done. He didn't panic, but he did insist that I try to throw up the pills. It was too late. Nothing would come up—the drugs apparently had already entered my system. My husband begged me to call a Christian Science practitioner to pray for me, but I refused. He said, "OK, then I'm going to call a practitioner and ask her to pray for me." And he did.

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War and a call to prayer
October 14, 2002

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