Jealous of Death

One of our engagement pictures

16 years ago I found the love of my life and thought that all my problems, especially my struggle with depression, would be solved once I got married and started a family. But after the wedding I began to realize that marriage didn’t necessarily mean happily ever after.

I had been able to keep the depression at bay with starry-eyed love and some medication while I had dated Michael, got engaged and planned our wedding. But after just a few short weeks once all the festivities were over and the honeymoon phase had passed, it reared its ugly head back up stronger than it had ever been. 

Michael was working three jobs and I was going to school, but spent a lot of time alone in our little apartment. The adjustment to marriage had been much harder than I had anticipated and I blamed Michael for much of my misery.

I remember sitting alone in my dark apartment that winter wanting so badly to just stop existing. I thought about different ways that I could end my life, but was always too scared to actually try any of them.

Depression creates this deep, real, almost physical pain that is hard to explain. It makes it so that you stop caring about anyone else around you and what they might think or feel if you were to just disappear. You want to do whatever it takes to end the pain. 

I was absolutely miserable, and in being miserable I treated those around me with contempt and anger. Which only made me believe even more that being gone would actually truly be better for everyone. 

At the same time I was struggling with this, there was a girl in my church congregation who had just been diagnosed with a very advanced form of cancer. She was also a newlywed like me, but she was lucky enough to actually be dying.

I remember watching people taking her and her husband meals, flowers, and spending all kinds of time, money and love on them as she went through chemotherapy, surgery and other treatments. I watched with complete jealousy as those around me banded together to help her fight for her life. I felt like screaming, “What about me and my life? Am I not important too?”

Despite their efforts, endless prayers and fasting the day came when she passed away. I was completely jealous. I was so deeply ashamed of my jealousy of her death, that I couldn’t even bring myself to go to her funeral. Her pain was over and everyone championed her efforts and her strength. She was so brave and positive throughout the whole thing. She was gracious and loving, despite the pain she was in, as opposed to the monster I had become, using my pain and anguish to lash out at people and hide from the world.

I cried to God asking Him why He was relieving her of this miserable earthly existence, while I was forced to stay here in pain, and misery. Everyone wanted her to stay alive, she was well loved, while no one knew that I was disappearing into the darkness of my own mind. I honestly didn’t think that anyone would have noticed if I had just slipped away, and even if they did I wasn’t sure I cared, if it meant the pain would end.

Thankfully I was led to a wonderful therapist who helped me overcome some of the pressing darkness and immediate danger that I was to myself. Through the years I began to find healing in countless ways, through wonderful doctors, teachers, guides and healers. All of which added to my healing puzzle.  

Now 15 years later, I have five beautiful children, a wonderful husband who has put up with my ups and downs, and a life that has changed me for the better. This life has taught me what it feels like to be pressed down by the weight of a heavy thick cloud, to wonder if my existence even matters. And on the flip side, after clinging to what scraps of hope I could, I’ve been given the opportunity to experience life on wings of freedom and lightness.

While I have my depression far more under control it’s not perfect. I still have days when I struggle to love myself, I struggle to want to keep going, but it has taught me that I am so much more than my disease. I am Rachel, deep down, a beautiful soul who is loved by God, those around her, and even loved by herself. I am whole, exactly as I am, imperfections and all.

While I may not matter to everyone, I matter to a few people. I look at those around me and think of how important they are in my life, and hope that maybe I matter just a small percent to a few of those people. 

Mental illness is a real thing and for anyone else out there who may be struggling. I am here. I hear you. I see you. I understand.