Can I tell you about my season of being crazy? My doctor told me it’s not clinically correct or socially acceptable to call that journey crazy. But it is the word that best describes my state of mind in that season of a mental health struggle.

I have dreamed of writing for Jesus since I was 12 years old. Finally, after years of hit-and-miss writing, I plunged in with both feet. In September of 2018, I published my first blog, and about three weeks later, I signed up for a writing conference. And that’s when the crazy kicked in. Seemingly, out of nowhere, I woke up one morning shaking with fear, struggling to breathe, and thinking this is why people take their lives. At that moment, it even occurred that it might be the best course for me.

I never had a thought like that before; I could never understand what I considered such a selfish act. That the idea entered my head at all shook me to my core.

How in the world did I get here?

For years, the enemy watched me, talking and dreaming about writing for Jesus. Occasionally, someone would ask me to write something for them, and I would. But, every time I did that, something happened to keep me from writing more. I have this vision of Satan smiling and wringing his hands together as he listened to me talk about writing but not worrying until I took action.

I wrote two children’s devotions that were published. But then, my step-dad died, and I didn’t get back to it again.

My pastor had me write for our church publication, then my son went through a trauma that kept me from pursuing more.

I bought a computer, built a web page, and published a blog three weeks in a row and I woke up with suicidal ideations.

I felt this overwhelming hopelessness that I had never felt before and didn’t know how to deal with it.

I experienced complete separation from God. I prayed, praised and petitioned anyway. It didn’t bring down whatever walls were between us, so I prayed, “I am yours simply because you say so.” Hoping that He would honor my feeble attempts at worship.

Clinical depression with a side of anxiety is a strange disease. I could barely get out of bed; I remember calling my boss one morning at 9:30 and telling him I had on my pants and top; as soon as I could get my socks and shoes on, I would come in. I got there after 1 p.m.

Another day when we were expecting an ice storm, I was terrified the electricity would go out. I have been through plenty of power outages and never worried. We have all the things for just such an occasion. On this particular day, I would drive around every hour and look at the power lines; as soon as I saw ice on them, I went home to worry. The electricity never did go out that night.

And then there was the night I was laying in bed, certain I would dislocate my jaw when I fell asleep, if I could even get to sleep.

Do you see why the word crazy seems to fit my situation so well?

There was also a darkness that had never been a part of my life before. I remember sitting on the side of a hill, watching the autumn colors dance in the wind. The rich reds, warm oranges, and the sunny yellows leaping about should make my heart happy in my favorite season. But there was only a black cloud that took up the foggy recesses of my mind.

The fog was clawing at me, choking me, taking my breath away. It was taking my life away. I was exhausted, but there was no rest. I longed for the comfort of my Savior, but the shadows drove Him away. My soul wept.

I spent 74 days living in that darkness, wishing every day would be my last. I spent many hours with my face to the floor, begging for relief. I laid in bed at night, never sleeping, often reciting Psalm 34:4, “I sought the Lord, and He answered me, taking away all my fears.” Seemingly to no avail. For the first time in my life, I thought I had no hope.

Here’s one of the things I love about hope among Christians. When one person loses hope, there is a tribe of people with an abundance of it. So the one struggling can borrow that hope from their champions. That was my experience. When I had nothing left to give, my husband and close friends rallied around me, praying, encouraging me, and generally taking care of me. They carried the hope I couldn’t find in that season for me.

My girlfriends remind me of a tribe of elephant women. When an elephant is giving birth, the other women elephants in the tribe close ranks and surround her in a protective circle, so there is no view for potential predators to see her. First, they surround her, stomping their big, old feet and snorting through those long tusks to keep her safe from hyenas and lions while she is at her most vulnerable. Then, when the baby is born, they kick dirt on it so those same predators can’t track the smells. Finally, they trumpet in celebration of the new arrival only after they know the baby is safe and the mama is ok. What wonderful champions they are!

I love this beautiful force of nature. And this is what my friends did for me. They protected me with prayer, shouting the name of Jesus over me, so the enemy had to leave. They surrounded me with encouragement and love, cracking the darkness into slivers of light with that borrowed hope. And when I grabbed that borrowed hope and found the Light of Jesus again, we all celebrated with raised hands and loud praises.

There was beauty in the ashes of my mental illness. It took me a while to get there, but as God gently nudged me to tell my story, I was astonished at how many women reached out to me. My story resonated with them. They needed to hear there is hope. So I became the one who held out borrowed hope, sometimes for women I didn’t even know.

Today, with the help of Jesus, my champions and medication, I am my usual, happy self. God blessed me with the opportunity to start a ministry for women, He has given me an even bigger platform to share borrowed hope with those who need it

While I would never choose those 74 days, I am reminded of God’s promise in Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (NIV) Imagine how beautiful we will find eternity with Him if He can do this much good from my crazy here on earth!

If you or someone you love is facing a mental health challenge, there are so many resources to help you. Locally, Community Health and Wellness Partners was an amazing resource for me. They had me into the office just two hours after I called with suicidal ideations. 988 is a national hotline to help as well. You are not alone, reach out. If you need to talk to someone, e-mail your phone number to [email protected] and I will call you back. Friends, I have been there, I have borrowed hope and I want to offer that to you if you need it!