I don't remember the exact day, but I have an idea of when it started.
My rolemodel, friend, and fellow teammate took her life at the end of her senior year soccer season and it shattered mine. I woke up to a text from someone in my choir who had heard about her suicide and I felt the air leave my chest as I fell to the ground. I didn't believe them. Heather was such a happy and kind person to everyone around her. She was always volunteering to do things, a strong member of her church, and the kind of person I wanted to be. She was so confident and had so many talents and I just couldn't understand how someone like that could take her life.
(Heather is the girl on the left, closest to the bottom of the photo. I am opposite her with the dorky glasses.)
I found out at her celebration of life that she struggled with depression and felt the only way to leave behind a little light and make the world a better place was to snuff out the light she had been sent here with.
The next few months were a dark blur. I remember my parents asking multiple times if I was okay and my sister trying to get me out of the house because I didn't want to go anywhere. My whole team felt Heather's absence and some of my friends didn't play the next season because they didn't want to play without her. I started making some good progress but really struggled to understand why I was so heavily affected by Heather's passing. I felt like I shouldn't have been. After all, I had a testimony of the Plan of Salvation and I knew that God knew Heather better than I did. I knew that he would have a plan just for her. Something didn't sit well with me and as I turned to General Conference talks about suicide, it just got worse. Everything seemed to point to her not being able to live with God after this life and I found my soul "weighed down with much more desire and anxiety for the welfare of [her soul]" (Jacob 2:3, The Book of Mormon).
I studied the scriptures a lot, but felt like my answers didn't leap off the page as they had in the past and found myself in prayer much more than before. I received comfort that Heather was going to be okay and that God loved her, but I still felt uneasy about things and really struggled with my testimony for a bit.
That year during track season was the first time it happened. I was doing sprints and suddenly I couldn't breathe. My throat felt much smaller than it had been before and I didn't understand what was happening to me. It happened again before a few of my races and the more it happened the more and more worried I became. We went to the doctor and he diagnosed me with sports induced asthma. I was given an inhaler to use when the breathing spasms occurred in order to clear my airway and breathe. I hated when these attacks came on because I felt so helpless and I could barely even explain what was happening to others. The best I could do was choke out, "my inhaler" so that someone would fetch it for me.
The weird thing was I felt like the attacks happened at other times. Fights with my parents, arguments with my siblings, sometimes before a test. I was having them more and more often. I kept using my inhaler and it seemed to help a lot, but eventually my grandpa called and told me that he thought I might not have just sports-induced asthma. He told me that he had suffered from anxiety for a long time, and that what I was experiencing sounded very similar to what he had experienced. We talked about things that I could do to control my anxiety (exercise, meditation, journaling, and medication) and I decided to try a few things before I tried medication.
To this day I have never gone to see a doctor or psychiatrist about my anxiety, although I probably should. I have never taken medication, and haven't seen a reason to, but I know that anxiety is different for everyone and that the things that work for someone else will be very different for each person.
I found that my anxiety was better under control when I was reading my scriptures, writing in my journal, exercising, participating in service activities, and writing music. These things brought me so much peace and I could feel the spirit comfort me when I did them.
My senior year is when I started to do better with things. I still had mental breakdowns every so often, and I am so glad I had the best friends in the whole world who helped me calm down. Not all of them knew what I was going through, but each of them helped in small but really impactful ways.
When I left for college, I was nervous but excited to turn over a new leaf and make new memories. I was scared to be leaving so many people behind in my hometown, but I knew that it was important to get an education and wanted to get that started before I left on a mission. I had amazing roommates and was blessed to room with two girls from my hometown who were out at school in Provo. We did a lot of really fun things together and what I loved most about our tight-knit group was how open and vulnerable we were able to be with one another. It never felt like any of us had any secrets and I felt like I could truly be myself. I went the whole semester without a single anxiety attack.
When I left on my mission, I was determined to keep the streak going, but I also wanted my mission president to know what I struggled with. I told him that I was a recovering perfectionist and suffered from self-diagnosed anxiety, and he gave me very sound advice about how to deal with it. I did really well on my mission as well. I think I had an anxiety attack maybe 4 times in the course of 19 months.
When I came back from my mission and started school again, things got worse. I still had amazing roommates, and we lifted each other up through the lows, but I felt off. I felt for the first few months that I was disobedient because I wasn't living by all of the mission rules and just when I started getting into the swing of things, my schedule was thrown off and I started spiraling. The anxiety grew, and I felt like there was nothing I could do about it. I was taking way too many credits and working about 35 hours a week, which left little time for exercise, scriptures, or even sleep. My roommates were super supportive of me and even though our apartment was crazy, it was a great place to come home to.
My sister left on her mission shortly after the semester started and that was really hard for me. She had always been someone I could talk to about anything and the thought of not being able to call her for another 18 months really was hard for me to handle. I remember one day coming home and being so stressed out that I just collapsed on my bed in tears. One of my roommates must have had a similarly bad day because she came in about 10 minutes later and did the same. We held each other and cried for a long time, talking about the crap we were both dealing with. We went out for cheesecake that night and said a prayer together with a few of our other roommates.
After that experience, I feel like things actually started to get better. I found time to go to the Temple each week, started reading my scriptures more regularly, and even started exercising again. I also met my wonderful husband who helped me to stay grounded during any storm I ever had. He didn't mind that most of our time together was spent working on homework at the table or on the couch. He didn't mind that our date nights were often just a quick movie or making dinner together. He made me laugh when I felt like crying and for the first time since my anxiety started, I felt whole.
We've been married now for just over a year and 9 months and while we have had our share of ups and downs, we have lifted each other up through the lows and enjoyed the highs as they come. My hope is that this blog will be a place where people can feel comfortable in sharing their experiences with any struggles they might face and that we can each lift each other up when we are struggling. I also hope that we will share the things we do to cope healthily and how we overcome the struggles we face.
Please do not put others down or make any sort of negative comments to one another. We all have our struggles and everyone's look different. We should rejoice in the successes of others and not become envious or wallow in self-pity when someone else is having a good day. This quote says it all: Obviously we suffer a little when some misfortune befalls us, but envy requires us to suffer all good fortune that befalls everyone we know! What a bright prospect that is—downing another quart of pickle juice every time anyone around you has a happy moment! (Jeffrey R. Holland, The Laborers in the Vineyard).
I hope that this blog will be a place that you can come to in order to receive inspiration and that you feel the same love that I do from our Father in Heaven as he lifts you up and carries you during your trials.
Love,
Breanna
My rolemodel, friend, and fellow teammate took her life at the end of her senior year soccer season and it shattered mine. I woke up to a text from someone in my choir who had heard about her suicide and I felt the air leave my chest as I fell to the ground. I didn't believe them. Heather was such a happy and kind person to everyone around her. She was always volunteering to do things, a strong member of her church, and the kind of person I wanted to be. She was so confident and had so many talents and I just couldn't understand how someone like that could take her life.
(Heather is the girl on the left, closest to the bottom of the photo. I am opposite her with the dorky glasses.)
I found out at her celebration of life that she struggled with depression and felt the only way to leave behind a little light and make the world a better place was to snuff out the light she had been sent here with.
The next few months were a dark blur. I remember my parents asking multiple times if I was okay and my sister trying to get me out of the house because I didn't want to go anywhere. My whole team felt Heather's absence and some of my friends didn't play the next season because they didn't want to play without her. I started making some good progress but really struggled to understand why I was so heavily affected by Heather's passing. I felt like I shouldn't have been. After all, I had a testimony of the Plan of Salvation and I knew that God knew Heather better than I did. I knew that he would have a plan just for her. Something didn't sit well with me and as I turned to General Conference talks about suicide, it just got worse. Everything seemed to point to her not being able to live with God after this life and I found my soul "weighed down with much more desire and anxiety for the welfare of [her soul]" (Jacob 2:3, The Book of Mormon).
I studied the scriptures a lot, but felt like my answers didn't leap off the page as they had in the past and found myself in prayer much more than before. I received comfort that Heather was going to be okay and that God loved her, but I still felt uneasy about things and really struggled with my testimony for a bit.
That year during track season was the first time it happened. I was doing sprints and suddenly I couldn't breathe. My throat felt much smaller than it had been before and I didn't understand what was happening to me. It happened again before a few of my races and the more it happened the more and more worried I became. We went to the doctor and he diagnosed me with sports induced asthma. I was given an inhaler to use when the breathing spasms occurred in order to clear my airway and breathe. I hated when these attacks came on because I felt so helpless and I could barely even explain what was happening to others. The best I could do was choke out, "my inhaler" so that someone would fetch it for me.
The weird thing was I felt like the attacks happened at other times. Fights with my parents, arguments with my siblings, sometimes before a test. I was having them more and more often. I kept using my inhaler and it seemed to help a lot, but eventually my grandpa called and told me that he thought I might not have just sports-induced asthma. He told me that he had suffered from anxiety for a long time, and that what I was experiencing sounded very similar to what he had experienced. We talked about things that I could do to control my anxiety (exercise, meditation, journaling, and medication) and I decided to try a few things before I tried medication.
To this day I have never gone to see a doctor or psychiatrist about my anxiety, although I probably should. I have never taken medication, and haven't seen a reason to, but I know that anxiety is different for everyone and that the things that work for someone else will be very different for each person.
I found that my anxiety was better under control when I was reading my scriptures, writing in my journal, exercising, participating in service activities, and writing music. These things brought me so much peace and I could feel the spirit comfort me when I did them.
My senior year is when I started to do better with things. I still had mental breakdowns every so often, and I am so glad I had the best friends in the whole world who helped me calm down. Not all of them knew what I was going through, but each of them helped in small but really impactful ways.
When I left for college, I was nervous but excited to turn over a new leaf and make new memories. I was scared to be leaving so many people behind in my hometown, but I knew that it was important to get an education and wanted to get that started before I left on a mission. I had amazing roommates and was blessed to room with two girls from my hometown who were out at school in Provo. We did a lot of really fun things together and what I loved most about our tight-knit group was how open and vulnerable we were able to be with one another. It never felt like any of us had any secrets and I felt like I could truly be myself. I went the whole semester without a single anxiety attack.
When I left on my mission, I was determined to keep the streak going, but I also wanted my mission president to know what I struggled with. I told him that I was a recovering perfectionist and suffered from self-diagnosed anxiety, and he gave me very sound advice about how to deal with it. I did really well on my mission as well. I think I had an anxiety attack maybe 4 times in the course of 19 months.
When I came back from my mission and started school again, things got worse. I still had amazing roommates, and we lifted each other up through the lows, but I felt off. I felt for the first few months that I was disobedient because I wasn't living by all of the mission rules and just when I started getting into the swing of things, my schedule was thrown off and I started spiraling. The anxiety grew, and I felt like there was nothing I could do about it. I was taking way too many credits and working about 35 hours a week, which left little time for exercise, scriptures, or even sleep. My roommates were super supportive of me and even though our apartment was crazy, it was a great place to come home to.
My sister left on her mission shortly after the semester started and that was really hard for me. She had always been someone I could talk to about anything and the thought of not being able to call her for another 18 months really was hard for me to handle. I remember one day coming home and being so stressed out that I just collapsed on my bed in tears. One of my roommates must have had a similarly bad day because she came in about 10 minutes later and did the same. We held each other and cried for a long time, talking about the crap we were both dealing with. We went out for cheesecake that night and said a prayer together with a few of our other roommates.
After that experience, I feel like things actually started to get better. I found time to go to the Temple each week, started reading my scriptures more regularly, and even started exercising again. I also met my wonderful husband who helped me to stay grounded during any storm I ever had. He didn't mind that most of our time together was spent working on homework at the table or on the couch. He didn't mind that our date nights were often just a quick movie or making dinner together. He made me laugh when I felt like crying and for the first time since my anxiety started, I felt whole.
We've been married now for just over a year and 9 months and while we have had our share of ups and downs, we have lifted each other up through the lows and enjoyed the highs as they come. My hope is that this blog will be a place where people can feel comfortable in sharing their experiences with any struggles they might face and that we can each lift each other up when we are struggling. I also hope that we will share the things we do to cope healthily and how we overcome the struggles we face.
Please do not put others down or make any sort of negative comments to one another. We all have our struggles and everyone's look different. We should rejoice in the successes of others and not become envious or wallow in self-pity when someone else is having a good day. This quote says it all: Obviously we suffer a little when some misfortune befalls us, but envy requires us to suffer all good fortune that befalls everyone we know! What a bright prospect that is—downing another quart of pickle juice every time anyone around you has a happy moment! (Jeffrey R. Holland, The Laborers in the Vineyard).
I hope that this blog will be a place that you can come to in order to receive inspiration and that you feel the same love that I do from our Father in Heaven as he lifts you up and carries you during your trials.
Love,
Breanna
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