I have been working on this paper for English class for about two weeks now. I turned it in this afternoon. Due to some unexpected circumstances and poor choices on my part, I feel that even though I turned it in for school, it is not yet finished. But I wanted to post it so whoever wanted to could read it. And besides, this is just what I do : )
Beautiful Tall
By S.T. Harriot
“…I bless you that as you seek happiness, you will find it. For only in seeking will you truly find it…”
Trenton Hooker—my good friend whom I met in the Missionary Training Center—was giving me a blessing on this dark, cold, and lonely night at BYU-I. I trusted him because of the experiences we had in those nine long weeks of ‘prison’. After he pronounced theses words I felt a wave of warmth flow through my whole body like a soft warm breeze on a hot summer night. What Trenton said reminded me of Narnia and what Aslan says, “For all find what they truly seek.” This sunk deep into my soul and something stirred within the depths of me; like God was cheering for me, ‘Megan you can do this! I’m here with you.’
Trenton’s hands came down on my shoulders—having finished the blessing—and rested them there for a minute. I stepped up and we embraced.
“If you need anything, let me know, ok?”
“Ok,” I replied, nodding my head.
We embraced again. It was as if Heavenly Father was telling me everything is going to be fine.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you later, ok? Bye”
“Bye,” I said in return as Trenton strolls out of the dorm.
It was on the mission that I discovered I struggle with depression. My companion Sister Booth and I were sitting on her bed talking. And then she said it.
“Sister DeVocht, I think you have depression. I think you should meet with President Dunaway.”
“Why do you say that?” I nervously asked.
“I’ve been praying for you.”
Even with knowing that I struggle with depression, I still couldn't help but feel these awful feelings. Guilt crept into my heart as I thought about the things I did not do yesterday: homework, go to the temple, use my time wisely. I felt like a bug and wanted desperately to crawl underneath a rock. I quickly slinked into the unused closet, wanting to hide away from the world and my life. In the darkness of my black hole, I wept, cut my fingernails, and texted my younger sister and best friend, Jenny.
My heart was aching, aching from the need of desperate healing; healing from years of rejection, neglect, hurt, and loneliness. I was in desperate need and no one even knew. My mind drifted back to Junior High, my own personal hell. Where did these horrible feelings come from?
“Mom, Mom! Guess what? I got an A on my history test! Look, Mom look,” I excitedly yell, as I run inside from getting off the school bus, with a huge smile on my face.
“Ok, that’s nice. Now Megan, clean up the kitchen! The missionaries will be here in less than an hour, and this house is a pig sty,” my mother yells back to me, without the same enthusiasm as me. I walk towards the kitchen with my head hanging low, lip quivering, and tears streaming down my face. I can’t help but feel that I am totally worthless and no matter what I do it’s never enough for anyone.
Puberty hits and no one wants to listen to a lone, quiet, annoying, and ‘technical’ soon-to-be teenager. I try to talk, telling my family about my school day—trying to make my pathetic life sound somewhat interesting, when in reality the best thing that happened was that I saw Chuck, this boy I had crush on—wishing and praying that someone will hear me. I start to speak, and nothing. Something else is more important than I am; my fragile and wispy voice gets drowned out by a foghorn. No one hears me. I make a second attempt. Yes! I said something; however, no one is saying anything. They must think that what I say is worth less than buzzing flies around an old mule. No one listens and no one cares. Going to bed that night—crying and feeling the dagger sinking deeper into my heart—I conclude that the world does not want to hear from me. I will do them a favor and not say a word.
A knock on the door brings me back to the present.
“Sierra, are you expecting anyone? Someone just knocked on the door,” my short-redheaded room-mate Jessi screams.
Silence…and then,
“Hi! Is Megan here?” My visiting teacher asks with bounciness and loads of energy in her voice.
“No, she’s not here right now,” Jessi replies, having no clue that I am actually in the house, listening to this whole conversation.
“Oh, well we brought her cookies for her birthday yesterday; they are really good. Maybe she’ll let you have one. Make sure she gets them, ok?”
“Yeah, ok. Thanks, bye.”
Door closes and I am silent as a mouse. Invisibility mantles around my body, cutting me off from this strange world I was thrown into. Reality hits and I realize that I can’t hide in the closet forever.
With sweaty hands, deep-heavy breaths, and my heart pounding like a drum at a high school’s rival championship football game, I finally find the courage in my Creator to stand up and saunter out of the closet, this virtual escape I had created for myself. Ok, breathe, Megan, just breathe.
Stepping out of the closet, I try to find something to make me feel better. I remember my loving Father in Heaven. I curl up in a corner and grab my miniature Book of Mormon. For the first time in a long time, instead of talking to someone else, I read from the sacred scriptures. I read from first Nephi, the words rippling off my tongue and tasting so sweet to me. Stillness sweeps over my wounded soul; Heavenly Father is with me. For just a moment in time, I am alive again.
My whole body is exhausted and I fall asleep, feeling warm, protected, and loved. Two hours later when I wake up, all I want to do is pray. I kneel down and pray with such fervor and a heart full of love that it seems that all my worries are melting away. I can’t help but smile and feel relieved.
I think that this may have been the first time I actually turned to the Lord and asked Him for help with my depression. It felt so good, whole, and right. It was like sweet victory in a hard fight. And the best thing is the Lord was with me, 100% of the way. I just had to accept Him in and let Him do the healing instead of trying helplessly to do it myself.
With God as my doctor and the scriptures as my medicine, I am ready to face my challenges; because I am putting my trust in God and that gives me hope to go on. I understand that the road will still be hard and there will be those days when I fall down, but with God by my side I know He will always be there to lift me up again.
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." With God, all things are possible.
