Love in Disguise

A few people encouraged me to write about the journey I've been on over the past year or so. When I saw that Real Simple had an essay contest, I thought it would be a perfect way for me to write the story of God's deep and abiding love. The question was, "when did you first understand the meaning of love?. It could not of been a more fitting topic! Although I did not win (I mean I wasn't really expecting to), I believe that someone needs to hear my story of struggling through depression and making it to the other side with the help of God, supportive family and friends. It is a humbling thing to share about struggles however, I believe that as believers, we are called to be transparent and real in order to bring glory to God and share the beautiful picture of the gospel in our lives. *Also, if anyone is struggling with depression, please don't keep silent. Talk with a trusted friend, family member or counselor and don't hesitate to contact me either (elizacharper@gmail.com)!

       The challenge seemed daunting – one mile of stairs on a steep incline. I was not quite sure what I had gotten myself into, but I only knew that there was no turning back. The climb was called The Incline in Manitou Springs, Colorado. Although it might sound minor to some Olympian, for Eliza Harper it was a huge undertaking.

            About a third of the way up, I began to panic. Not only had I lost sight of the girls who were ahead of me, but I felt I could not climb any longer. Fear overcame me;  I felt stuck. Turning around seemed to be just as dangerous as continuing up. There was no way out; I felt alone and hopeless, as if no one loved me.

            Silly, right? It was only a climb. I could call for help, and one of my friends or a good Samaritan would help me finish the climb. Sadly, I was not able to see past what was right in front of me. In fact, this was not the first time I had felt these strong emotions of loneliness, hopelessness, and despair.

            Only four months prior to the climb, I was engulfed in darkness. I could not seem to see past it; I felt trapped.  How could a person get to this point? Surely, they must have been living with guilt or had undergone a tragic event but this was not the case for me.

            Although there had been a few upsets in my life, I have always had a huge support system. Even when my parents got divorced in middle school I was able to see the good in the trial. I knew God loved me infinitely; my family would support me; my friends would be there through thick and thin. Additionally, I was at my peak in life. I was about to enter my senior year of college. Usually it is an exciting time, but regrettably that was not the case for me.

            I was at my “wits end” after an exhausting summer and the constant questioning of what my five year plan entailed. Quickly I lost interest in all my favorite things in life. Joy was suddenly an unfamiliar word.

            Finally, I decided it was time to see the doctor. I do not think I was quite ready for the diagnosis that was given. Depression? Really? That was what I was going to school for…to help those who are depressed and not mentally stable. There is no way I am depressed. My mom tells me I have a quiet stubbornness about me. From the outside, no one would ever know; on the inside, my heart is prideful, and I have a tough time taking heed of needed counsel.

            I left the doctor’s office that day with a prescription for an anti-depressant  and with an admonition to slow down and rest. Little did my doctor know that it would take much more convincing to break my stubbornness and listen to his advice. Little did I know that God was about to teach me the greatest lesson about love and grace through a difficult trial.

            Needless to say, I returned to college without taking the medicine or listening to my doctor’s advice. I immediately began my job as a Resident Assistant for the second year. It did not take long for me to realize that I was far from being able to lead a whole hall of girls when I could hardly take care of myself. I had reached my breaking point.

            I called my mom one night after a tough day and told her I could not do it any longer. I could not lead, and I could hardly get through the day. Scared out of her mind, she called our doctor and made sure my blood results had come back clear. Shortly after, he called back with a new finding: my mono had returned.

            After the bad news, it did not take me long to approach my Resident Director and tell her I could no longer be a Resident Assistant. To my surprise, she was not disappointed but rather sympathetic and agreed that stepping down would be the best option.

            Now, I kept asking myself, why was everyone so gracious to me? I keep disappointing people and yet they keep giving me grace and love that I do not deserve. So, I began to take matters into my own hands. Instead of accepting the love and grace, I shut it out. I began to allow lies to seep into my life. I was disgusted with myself and was sure that everyone else was too.

            Before long, those around me began to see my personality change. I was sleeping more than 10 hours at night in addition to multiple naps during the day. Every time my friends would invite me somewhere I would decline. In addition, my boyfriend dumped me. The fog seemed so thick, I could not see any light.

            I decided it was time to at least try the anti-depressant. What did I have to lose? It was my last resort.  I began to take the medicine my doctor had prescribed. Unfortunately, the side effects were strong, and I was not willing to wait for it to level out. I took matters into my own hands and stopped my medicine abruptly­–the worst thing I could have done.

             I was spiraling down into the rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland with no hope, utter darkness, and despair. There was only one thing left to do ­– overdose.

             I contemplated it for a couple of days. It seemed to be the only way to ease the pain and misery. No one would miss me; if anything it would free everyone from all the worry and heartache I was causing.

            One September evening, I decided it was the night to end everything. I was sitting in my car after having a mild panic attack and was convinced I was going to take my life. Then I heard the phone ring. I was about to press the ignore button, but it was too late.  Kathryn was calling me, and I knew I had to pick up.

            Kathryn was one of the sweetest ladies I had ever met. She too had once struggled with depression. The minute I told her I was struggling, she was by my side. She would skype me every week to see how I was doing and faithfully prayed for me. God used her in a huge way in my life.

            I suppose the reason I picked up was out of mere curiosity. She wasn’t supposed to call me that night, and I had to know why she decided to call. It was a divine intervention, not a coincidence, that she called.

            “How are doing tonight, Eliza?” said Kathryn in her sweet tone. “Oh, I’m fine,” I said hoping she wouldn’t hear the pain in my voice. “No, how are you really doing?” she asked persistently.

            It was at that point that I knew I had to tell her everything. I had to tell her that I had contemplated suicide. I had to tell her that I was not okay and needed help. This was no coincidence; it was a sovereign act of God Almighty for her to call me so unexpectedly. I finally saw His face through the fog.

            With the help of Kathryn, I finally called my mom and told her that I had contemplated suicide. She immediately came to school and took me home. The next couple of months were some of the hardest and most painful months of my life. I had to withdraw from school, go to counseling once a week, and finally admit that I needed help.

            Nevertheless, if I had not gone through this trial, I never would  have understood the depth of love. I once heard a saying that “not everything that is good looks good, tastes good and feels good.” If I would have known the heartache and pain I would have to experience, I would have told God to choose something different. However, if that is what it took for me to know God’s love and my family’s love in a deeper way, it was worth it all.

            I finally made it up the Incline and I believe the same could be said after that difficult climb. It was tough. At times I felt like giving up but I did it with the help of God and those around me. I thought I had a good grasp on love, but I realized that sometimes it is in disguise and takes pain to understand its depths.