January Twenty-Seventh: A Reflection

            I remember sitting last spring in my therapist office, bawling uncontrollable.  I don’t remember the conversation that prompted her question but I will always remember her saying, “Why? Why, Megan, do you think you’re experiencing depression? What do you hope to gain from it?” Quite the therapist technique, turning a horrible thing into something “good.” But I remember my answer.  “I have had many experiences that make me believe that my life is supposed to be an example to others. Throughout all my trials, I’ve always believed that I needed to talk about them in order to help myself and maybe inspire others. So, I guess I have depression to help myself as well as someone else.”

            January 27^th….a day that will go down in my life history as a huge turning point. Last year, on this day, I wrote a blog with the title “Megan, A Girl who Has a Hard Life” and that just doesn’t fit well with me . I kinda hate 23 year old Megan who titled her blog that because I don’t believe that anymore. I've learned a lot in a year, I guess.

           There are so many out there with worst trials than me but as the girls at the center would say, “BUT your problems are valid!”  True but I can now say that I believe I have been blessed throughout all these trials. Looking back, there were angels with me through the following summary of some of the hard times in my life. God has humbled me when I needed it and I am grateful for that.  I’m writing today to let you, dear reader, know that I know what it feels like when you’re hurt. When you’re sad and dealing with emotional problems. What it feels like when it seems like God has left you. When you’re sitting in the hospital because of other people. What it feels like to experience all these trials alone, with people reaching out but not quite understand, not validating what you feel, telling you to pray and trust in God when you do that every day and notice no difference. What it feels like when you just want someone to say with you "that sucks." But looking back at my trials, I know that God placed angels and friends and family in my life at that time to help me, to shape me into the servant I can be today.

            With that said, here’s a not-so-quick summary of January 27th, 2013.

The Colorado Road Trip that Ended with a BANG:
            I'll admit it. I was bored. My sophomore year at college wasn't living up to the carefree easy "who needs to study" days of freshman year.  This boredom caused me to plan a weekend trip with three of my friends to go to Colorado.  The trip was amazing.  We explored the great outdoors, saw the sights of Colorado Springs, and felt so carefree for a mere 48 hours. We decided to drive the rest of the way to Utah through Wyoming.  After stopping for lunch, I took the back seat and was hoping to catch up on sleep.

Suddenly, the car jerks.  All sound stops. I don't hear anything after the screeching of tires, the screech that leaves behind black hideous marks on the freeway. Everything is silent.  But with eyes wide open, I see my body turn twice. Rolling. My legs on the ceiling of the car for a spilt second. The car on its side. The car starting to roll once more. Trying to brace myself. Trying....to hold onto anything.  The car stops with a jolt.  The first sounds I hear are my friend’s hysterical cries "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."  From the front seat, "Is everyone okay?"  Then I hear deep, shallow breathing.  It is so loud.  I want the breaths to stop.  Then I realize it’s me.  And the air isn't filling my lungs.  Someone is in my face, "Megan, are you okay? Are you hurt? Megan, answer me." My hand is grabbed.  Tears start.  Shallow breathing continues.  I can’t get sounds or words out.  The back seat friend is in my face next, pulling on my hair, saying, "She's in shock. Megan, focus. You're okay." I realize he's pulling glass out of my hair and away from my eyes. Then, a stranger's face in the window. I don't remember the window being rolled down and that's when I realize it's smashed, the glass all over me. The face in window asks again, "Is everyone okay?"  I look at her blankly.  I hear the words, "We’re all fine except for her. We need to call an ambulance."

That's when reality snaps. No. I try again to speak, louder.  Nothing comes out. I practically scream “NO” and I’m asked if I can move my feet and my toes.  I nod.  The ambulance is called.  Breathing hurts.  My parents are called.  I cry more.  They promise to fly if anything serious happens at the hospital.  The paramedics arrive, another face in the window.  The “jaws of life” are used to open the door.  The wooden plastic hard stretcher comes in the car.  A paramedic puts a neck brace on me.  I'm cold.  It's windy.  I don't have shoes on.  I'm lifted into the ambulance.  I can't see anything.  I can't see my friends, the car, or anything.  I just see faces of paramedics who look concerned.  I'm lifted into the ambulance.  Doors are closed.  There's a tickling in my nose.  It’s an oxygen line.  The drive starts.  Forty long eternal minutes later, I’m at the hospital, in the middle of Wyoming.

After x-rays, more tears, blood tests, and laying for hours with that neck brace, I am discharged from the hospital with no broken bones. I thought I'm fine, until I walk.  Every step sends shooting pains through my back and neck.  I can't walk on my own.  We check into a Motel 6 and everyone stares at me as I am helped in bed.  I feel like screaming.  I can't stand their gazes.  I just want everything to be normal.  We stay overnight in Wyoming and I have the first of many sleepless nights to come, unable to get comfortable and stay asleep.

            To this day, I often wake up with slight pain in my back. I recently bought myself an amazing bed and better pillows so I’m not in pain so much anymore. Being in any kind of a car accident makes you realize that that life is short. I was angry, at first.  I was the only one hurt and coincidently the only one not planning on serving a mission.  However, I remember many sleepless nights where I cried out in prayer and was blessed with a few hours of sleep. Nights where I read my patriarchal blessing and knew Christ was there for me, feeling His arms comfort me.  Learning through study and prayer that the accident wasn’t a punishment.  Knowing that He cares for me.  Learning to forgive those.  Learning to have a new perspective on life.

But I keep reflecting this morning about timing.  The timing in my trials and the timing in my life.  And I strongly believe in having faith in God’s timing.  My mapped out “picture perfect” life has been anything but that. When I was in Young Woman’s, I planned to be married and have kids right away after high school…HA. I planned to leave BYU married…HA. I planned to be married first.  I planned to have kids by now…HA HA HA.  My life has been anything BUT what I planned for myself. I mean, I even planned to go live in California for grad school but it seems like that plan has changed too! But I never planned to have struggles with mental health, with depression and anxiety. But the timing of them…wow.

            To read the “full story” of my mental health struggles, you can find that post here. But it amazes me that my struggles started about a year ago.  The hard days still come and I’m learning that self-care really does help mixed with daily medication. But I truly believe that the depression came during that time to prepare me to be OKAY this year. This year has had it’s challenges already (yes, 27 days into January) but I can’t imagine what they’d be like if I hadn’t taken care of myself last year.  I believe they would be harder (And I bet $20 that Ethan is reading this going, “Babe, harder days????).  I believe that I’d have more breakdowns and more struggles with this nasty “winter” we’re having, without snow and with many, many grey days.  I strongly believe that my depression came to humble me, to realize that I can’t do this on my own.  I have a stronger testimony that God is here for us and He cares about everything—from the bad days to the achievements.

            So yes. Trials aren’t fun. I’m not always positive. But life is a gift. Life is a gift that is short. we have like, maybe 90 years? Sitting here as a 24 year old, I can’t imagine 90, that seems like a lifetime away.  However, I believe trials are for our good.  Maybe we will never find the reason.  Maybe we won’t know until after this life.  Maybe we won’t ever know.  But I have to believe that trials are for our good, to help those around me and not to consider myself as a “girl with a hard life.”