Cover of Our Journey from Darkness to Light by Patricia Potts, featuring blooming desert cacti beneath bold red lettering. The subtitle reads, “How 15 Women Chose Strength Over Weakness,” highlighting real-life stories of healing, faith, and resilience through grief, depression, and adversity.

Although Christmas season envelops many in its warmth and bright tree lights, this year I only hung a simple Christmas wreath on the door. I sat before a table piled high with manuscripts from various authors, with a deadline and anxiety as companions.

Unlike most women, my holiday spirit was channeled into a singular purpose: to collect the stories of fifteen women, including mine,  and make them engaging and life-changing. I had worked hard to make sure that each narrative would honestly describe the writer’s challenges as well as illustrate their path from darkness to light.  The desire of my heart was to offer a beacon of hope and guidance to others in their own troubled times.

Years ago, I self-published My Journey from Darkness to Light, a book born from my own battle with severe depression. I felt compelled to share the tools that aided my recovery. After it was published and I was able to share it by word of mouth and as a speaker, I never envisioned writing or publishing again.

One afternoon, a publishing company reached out with an intriguing proposal: to rebrand my book and reintroduce it to the market. This unexpected idea ignited a spark within me. I reflected on the lessons I had garnered since I wrote my first book, and once again I longed to share these additional insights.

Inspired, I envisioned a collection of stories from fifteen women, each recounting their own unique struggles and triumphs over adversity.  In an easy to read, story-like narrative as each learned to choose light in their own lives. This endeavor led me to an extraordinary publisher and subsequently to talented audio producers, including the remarkable Mariah Proctor, with Meridian Magazine.

Throughout this journey, I faced doubts that nearly led me to abandon my dream. Yet, I was often reminded of a powerful quote I had learned long ago: “Nothing can stop an idea whose time has come.”

Within the pages of this collection, readers will discover hope and actionable advice for overcoming challenges such as depression, anxiety, divorce, the loss of loved ones, illness and more.

Whether you prefer the tactile experience of a printed book or the convenience of an audiobook, I invite you to join us on this journey and find your own tools to transition from darkness to light.

The following is an excerpt from Our Journey from Darkness to Light which also appeared in the author’s own book After My Son’s Suicide: A Latter-day Saint Mother Finds Comfort in Christ and Strength to Go On:

After My Son’s Suicide 
By Darla Isaacson 

Author’s note: My dear friend for more than three decades, Darla Isackson, passed away in 2019. Dan and I, along with Darla’s husband, Doug, facilitated Darla’s book, “After My Son’s Suicide”, to become available as an audiobook on Audible and Mariah Proctor did an incredible job as the reader. Little did we know that two years later, while preparing this publication, I would desperately need to listen to it over and over again for my own healing after we lost our son. 

The following are excerpts from Darla’s book that I clung to, as well as an article she wrote for *Meridian Magazine*: 

“My eyes locked with his in a strange and joyous sense of reunion the night Brian, my second son, was born. From that time on, I had a special bond with him. When all five of my sons were little, I sometimes felt overwhelmed and exhausted. I ran into my bedroom and cried. Brian was the one who would follow me, pat me, and say, “What’s the matter? Mommy?” He was also the one who broke my heart.

When Brian was sixteen, he left our church. Attending with us all his life, one day he simply announced he was not going back. By then, he had been drawn into the drug scene, and we began to see signs such as decreased interest in school and sullen behavior. My formerly affectionate and kind son was suddenly rude, even to me. One day, after he snapped at me, I put my arms around him and said, “I love you, and I never talk to you like that; so please don’t talk that way to me again.” He didn’t, but mostly because he quit talking to me at all.

Brian was 26 before I learned that he had suffered from major depression from the onset of puberty. He withdrew from the family and  lived on his own from the time he graduated from high school. After years of refusing all but minimal contact, out of the blue, he called me in February of 1997. I dropped everything and went straight to his apartment, crying with joy that he would open the door to me again. He apologized for shutting me out, and we held on to each other and cried. The window opened, and we communicated heart to heart. He told me he had walked away from both his jobs and was suicidal. He was willing to move back home with us and get help. As we continued to talk, he told me he had first tried to kill himself at age 15. Nothing could have shocked me more.

In the months that followed, I was so grateful to get to know Brian as an adult and recognize that the traits I had loved in him when he was a child were still there.

After a year of counseling and staying drug-free, Brian got his real estate license and moved out on his own again. Although life was often up and down, he seemed to be coping well.

The morning of September 27, 2004, dawned bright and clear. I went about my morning chores, guessing that the day would bring me greater sorrow than I had ever known. Just before noon, three plainclothes members of the Salt Lake Police Department appeared at my door to bring me the news that my Brian, age 33, was dead,  by his own hand. Sometime during the night, he had slit his wrist and bled to death in the bathtub. His roommate had discovered him in the morning.

How does one assimilate such news? How can a mother’s heart bear such sorrow? How many tears can one person cry and not dry up and wither into nothingness? I found myself sobbing. I love my son with all my heart and can stand up under the realities of this situation only because I believe in the hereafter and in the love, mercy, and atonement of Christ. I choose faith now, not because I’m a rock or have any unusual spiritual strength, but because the alternative is unbearable..
and because I’ve received so many spiritual assurances. I am weak, but He is strong. I can’t imagine surviving such sorrow if I didn’t wholeheartedly believe in Christ.

I tried to find a book that could lead me through the turbulent waters, but I couldn’t find one that spoke to my heart. I am a mother who just happens to be a writer. As I have walked this difficult path, I keep having spiritual nudges telling me to share what I have learned. So, with a prayer in my heart, I proceeded to write the book, “After My Son’s Suicide”.

• Imagine having a mental illness, poor coping skills, perhaps an addiction to drugs or alcohol, failed romances and no personal hope for recovery. I believe that was the mindset of my Brian. I believe that it was as though he was in a burning building as real as the twin towers, and he felt there was no other way out except through a window.

• All of us living with the reality of the suicide of a loved one are literally dangling by a rope of faith over a precipice of sorrow – experiencing a true test. But the test is not so much in the strength of our own faith as it is our willingness to rely on the strength of Christ, who is mighty to save. Not one of us is strong enough by ourselves, but nothing is too hard with him by our side.

• Christ has been by my side. One of my most precious memories was about 7 ½ years after Brian died. I had left the living room to get a glass of water. During that walk, I was filled with light from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.  I knew then that Brian knew Jesus.  He was happy and progressing. I also knew that one day I would be with Brian again.

• I share this experience with you in the hope that you too may hold on. To hold on to the rope, the rope of faith, the only rope that will help us. Hang on and believe and trust and wait and pray.

• When I begin to recall the moment the police officers stood at my door, I choose to remember instead the moment Brian and I hugged each other and when he rubbed my feet when I was weary.  I’ve gone for help when I recognize negative dark feelings. I’ve consulted church leaders, professional counselors, medical and alternative specialists. Each contributed something valuable to getting back on track, whether it was good advice, medication, supplements, or tools for reprogramming my mind. Remember, we do not go for help because of what is wrong with us, but because of what is right with us. It makes no sense to struggle on and on with conditions that are treatable. Brian did that. I choose differently.

• Satan’s specialty is psychological warfare!  If he can turn us in our thoughts against God (“God let this happen and it’s not fair!”), against others (“They are to blame!”) or against ourselves) “It’s my fault!”) we won’t have the energy to fight the real enemy – him!” We can be certain that when we find ourselves thinking thoughts that make us miserable, they come from the Father of Misery. We can choose not to let Satan remain anonymous. We can call him out, saying something like, “Satan, I will not listen to you. I recognize your lies even when they are subtly mingled with truth, because they make me miserable. I refuse to believe them. I love Deanna Edward’s idea that, “Joy is not the absence of pain, but the presence of God.”

• I weep into the darkness and lonely night until Jesus comes, embracing me in light.

• We can choose in favor of the Lord, because the mind is the last bastion of agency (as long as one’s mind is not fettered with severe mental illness or addiction.)

• Those attending “Al Anon” support groups formed by loved ones of alcoholics, are told to remind themselves in regard to alcoholism, “I did not cause it, I cannot control it, and I cannot cure it.” We can apply these phrases to our own situation. We did not cause our loved ones to choose suicide. We absolutely had no control over that choice. (Heaven only knows if we could, we would have!)

• Counsel given me in a blessing, “Remember the Lord’s great love and mercy and that He is undoubtedly giving Brian the fullest measure possible, leading him lovingly to belief and to access the Atonement in his behalf.”

• My grief from my son included my grief for all my own lost dreams, for my absolute failure to create the ideal family that I was so certain of when I was young. I’ve learned that creating the ideal is not what life is all about. Instead, we are here to learn from our experiences and to recognize our dependence on the Lord. We all experience disillusion as we learn and grow. It’s an important part of life, a blessing because it means learning to see the truth more clearly.
• During my initial grieving process after my son’s death, I read many books, attended a grief recovery class and support group where others whose loved ones chose suicide shared their pain and their strength.  While solitary grieving was necessary, I also needed to tell my story and receive support from others. The most healing thing of all was my increased personal scripture study, prayer, and therapeutic writing, because those things opened me the most to the spirit. Other helpful things along the way: I went to the doctor and got the medical help I needed, I started exercising more and made sure to feed myself well; I listened to my body when I needed extra sleep (Grief work can be exhausting!) I went to counseling; I talked to my Bishop (the leader of our congregation) and received blessings.
The universality of grief, especially grief over the loss of a loved one, comes largely because of the universality of love. Love and grief are opposite sides of the same coin. One of the best lessons I’ve learned is to tell others today that we love them, that I love them. We (I) must not wait for a tomorrow that may never happen. I’ve often been bathed in love since Brian’s death and have tried to shower a lot around to others too. It is so easy to tell my grandchildren how much I love them, a little harder to tell my grown-up family members and friends, but I try to do it frequently. One never knows when one fleeting opportunity to express love could be the last in this life.
I praise the Lord for his plan, for the Comforter that has kept me sane, for the scriptures that daily feed my soul and remind me of sweet spiritual promises that can still be mine. I cling to the scriptural witness that. All things worked together for good to them that love God.” (Romans 8: 28)
The spirit has truly sustained me from day to day in the aftermath of my losses. My bear witness that there is nothing we need to fear in this life, as long as we hold fast to our connection with the Holy Spirit. My bear witness of this truth, of the truth of the 23rd Psalm, Though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”