Books

“Trust in the Lord with All Thine Heart”
By G.G., Gregory, and David Vandagriff

Deliverance, Chapter 3

Editor’s note: If you missed the introduction and chapter 1 of Deliverance, you can read them here Please feel free to respond to any of the authors through G.G.’s website at www.GGVandagriff.com.

Recently, I heard a broadcast devotional given by President Hugh B. Brown about the night before he was called to be an assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He said:

I thought, “He is describing perfectly the depths of the depression I have suffered for twenty-five years.”

Shortly before April Conference, 2006, I was obliged to give up working in the temple because my panic attacks had grown so severe I couldn’t function. As the temple was my one source of refuge, I was hopeless and bitter. My life was utterly dark.

But we had conference tickets, and I was fortunate enough to hear Elder Holland’s talk, to which I have previously alluded – “Broken Things to Mend.” I sat in wonder as he described my state of mind:

He proceeded to counsel us that:

Oh! How I longed for that rest!

My husband recorded that talk onto a CD for me and I listened to it daily, sometimes several times as I endeavored to fight through my panic attacks. I visualized Peter walking towards the Lord on the water, full of faith and then, like me, doubting and falling into the water. Drowning. But the Savior’s arms were stretched out to him. He was rescued in spite of his doubts. I lay in bed, crying, wishing the Savior would come for me.

As I have said, faith had always been hard for me, because as one depressed, I was without hope. This condition was endemic to my illness. But as Elder Holland suggested in his address, I studied Alma 32 for perhaps the thousandth time. I had the desire. I gave, as he counseled, a “small place for the promises of God to find a home.”

In my despair, I spent literally hours on my knees petitioning the Lord for my survival, for some kind of deliverance. Heretofore, I had been hesitant to offer him my heart unconditionally, for I had one overriding fear – that if I offered him everything, he would take my husband. My abandonment issues were so deep, that this was my greatest fear.

But this time, I was utterly at the bottom. I said in essence, “Okay, Heavenly Father, I give up. I won’t keep anything back. I give my whole life to you to do with as you please. I relinquish all control. I place myself completely on the altar. I promise that I will trust you whatever happens, trust you not to try me beyond that which I can bear.” I made myself totally vulnerable, a very frightening prospect for me.

It is often through those near to us that the Lord answers our prayers. Though I was very ill, I endeavored to live as closely to the Lord as possible. One day, as I was visiting teaching a new sister with a new companion, I had a panic attack. Neither of them knew about my illness.

With my husband serving as campus bishop, I was very cut off from the members of my home ward aside from visiting teaching. As I explained to them, apologetically, the nature of my illness, both sisters became very concerned. They suggested a Relief Society fast.

I begged them not to do this. My depression was a twenty-five year old impossible affliction. There were too many other sisters who had far more serious problems. Two of them were dying. Nevertheless, without my knowing it at the time, my visiting teaching companion called several sisters and organized a fast for me. I don’t even know who all of them were.

I had another close friend whom I walked with on some mornings. She knew a lot about mental illness and had watched my recent decline with growing alarm. I had lost so much weight I was skeletal. I trembled constantly. I was afraid every minute of every day. I was angry that my one healing balm – temple service – had been denied me. I was bound by a blackness so profound I had great difficulty perceiving any light.

She told me, “G.G., you are very sick. I’ve watched you. You need to go to the doctor. There must be something they can do for you.” I told her, that on the contrary, my psychiatrist had told me there was nothing he could do for me. Every drug had been tried. Every treatment had been experimented with. I was on my own. As my therapist had told me, this was the way my body was wired. My friend persisted, begging me to give it one more try.

Not expecting much, I made an appointment with my family doctor, a personal friend in my ward. I thought at least he might be able to give me something to alleviate my immediate symptoms. I wasn’t able to get into see him until the Tuesday of the following week. I didn’t know it, but that was the same day my friends were fasting for me.

When my doctor entered my cubicle, before I could say a word, he asked me what medications my psychiatrist had me on for depression and anxiety. I told him. He said, “Let’s see if we can do better than that. I found out about some new medication yesterday. I have some samples. I’d like you to try it.” He also gave me two medications, both new.

Without much hope, I took those medications that night. I had been down this road so many times before, only to fail over and over. I knew anti-depressants took weeks to work. I had very little hope, but I was exercising my particle of faith as Elder Holland suggested.

The next morning, when I opened my eyes, the blackness was gone. Beautiful light streamed through my bedroom window and a feeling of deep spiritual well-being filled my soul. Fear was gone. Years and years of blackness were gone. I was anxious to go forth and begin this new day. I couldn’t believe it. I sat up. The world whirled around me and I lay back down.

Side effects. Was I going to be able to tolerate this new medication? At that moment, I decided I didn’t care if I had to live as a dizzy invalid, as long as I could be emotionally and mentally healthy. I had never felt this kind of peace in my life.

I called my doctor and he assured me, that in time, the side effects would go away. Over the next three weeks, I gradually began to feel better physically. Emotionally, I improved daily. I was very tentative. This was new ground for me. Living in the light was almost blinding. As my true personality emerged, I was like one starved, eating for the first time in years. Everything tasted wonderful. I was euphoric.

I spent more time on my knees. This time it was in tearful gratitude for the answer to twenty-five years of prayers. At last the magical chemicals had been delivered to my brain that allowed the synapses of my nervous system to function as they should.

When I went again to my therapist, he said, “Your family doctor was clearly inspired. If you had gone to a psychiatrist with the symptoms you presented, he never would have put you on those drugs. I really don’t understand how they are working.”

I knew throughout this miracle that I owed it all to my new understanding of the atonement. I was like a wind-up toy that had been fully wound, set in the right direction and released!

Because my crippling fear is gone, I can pray in faith now. I can actually feel the arms of my Savior’s love. I know my Master and he knows me. He has always known and loved me, but because of the mortal body I inherited, I was prevented from feeling it. Now, thanks to the grace and power of the atonement of Jesus Christ, I have had a mighty change of heart. I can manage my illness. It is a miracle I never expected in mortality.

Lest anyone wonder what exactly my magical combination of drugs was, let me say that it was a weird combination that could only have been hit upon by inspiration. Even my doctor didn’t know that. One of the drugs has a side effect of weight-gain. After gaining thirty-five pounds, I went to him and suggested we replace it with a different drug that had the same function.

As it wasn’t my anti-depressant, he had no qualms, and immediately prescribed another drug for me. Little by little, I spiraled into a mania that went completely out of control. This lasted for three weeks, during which time I hardly slept. Finally, I crashed. I slept around the clock for days. It was only then that I put together the incidence of my mania with my going off the other drug.

I began the original drug once more, and my mental equilibrium slowly came back. But it took weeks to get over the exhaustion and the fear that tampering with the inspired combination of chemicals had brought about.

Still, I did not wholly learn my lesson, nor did my doctor, who was not experienced in treating complex mental illness. About two months after the previous incident I went to him again, complaining of fatigue. I was sleeping round the clock. He looked at my medications and said, “I don’t know why I ever put you on this medication. It doesn’t make sense. Let’s take you off of it. It causes fatigue.”

A little wary this time, I nevertheless went off of it. Within a week I was in the pits of depression. I prayed fervently that I would know what to do. Immediately what came into my mind was to go back on the full dose of the discontinued medicine. (I had only been taking a half dose because of my fear of weight gain.) Not only did my depression immediately disappear, but so did my fatigue.

It became very clear to me at that time that this particular combination of medicines was directly inspired by the Lord, because the medicine that cured my depression wasn’t an anti-depressant, and the doctor didn’t know why he had given it to me. I am completely in the dark about why this medication works the way it does for me. In reading about it in all the pharmacological literature, there is no satisfactory explanation. It is simply the right chemical, in combination with my anti-depressant, that enables my brain chemistry to work as it should.

If you have had trouble finding the right medication, my advice is to never give up. Try everything. My medication was new. I had to learn to live with side effects I would have thought before to be intolerable, but they eventually went away (except for the weight gain. But I would rather be plump than suicidal). Don’t give up.

As Elder Holland promised, “His yoke is easy and His burden is light.” The time for me was finally right. All the pieces were in place. I was trying as best I could. My friends exercised their faith by fasting in my behalf. My doctor, who actually knew little about mental illness, had been given the samples of the new medications the day before he saw me. My life was changed forever.

Now I can press forward with that heretofore elusive “perfect brightness of hope,” to tackle new challenges, tethered in the faith in Jesus Christ that has been forged in the fire of my extremities.

A friend who has known me all these twenty-five years asked me recently if I was bitter that the healing took so long. I reflected and confided, “No. It’s kind of like the handcart pioneers. It took tremendous hardship for them to become acquainted with the Savior as a reality. The price I paid to know him was almost half my life, but after all, that’s what we came to earth for. To know God and his Only Begotten Son. Nothing else really matters.”