What A Long Strange Trip It’s Been part 2

My Senior Year

In 12^th grade things were much worse at home and my depression was raging. I drank almost every day. I continued to get A’s and B’s in my classes and I went to the library as often as possible. I’d meet up with friends and drink more. It’s all I could do to keep sane. I put on a lot of miles on my motorcycle riding up in the hills.

I must’ve felt something from up above because I was reading the scriptures regularly even though I was drinking. Was God really there? Did he care about me? A mission was “expected” after graduation. Did I want to go? It could be an escape for me. With the help of my friends and a wonderful Bishop, I turned things around and prepared to go on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Heavenly Tuggings

I put in my mission papers and the very next day I was in a motorcycle accident, breaking my leg. Thank goodness for nice boots and a helmet and angels watching over me. Apparently, it wasn’t my time to go yet. My parents were so grateful that I was alive, to my surprise, I didn’t even get a lecture! I had to wonder if he loved me after all. Since I had a broken leg, I wondered if my escape plan was thwarted.

I received my mission call to Zürich, Switzerland, German speaking. I was thrilled!! I had taken 6 years of German in school and loved the language. I went into the Mission Training Center in November, a week after my birthday. I found some great friends in the MTC, all of which helped me focus on being a missionary and forgetting about what I left behind. I was blessed to experience no depression or suicidal ideation during the 9 weeks in MTC.

Did I Get on the Wrong Flight?

I arrived in Switzerland in mid-January, one of the coldest winters on record in 30 years. When we were walking through the airport with our new mission president, I couldn’t understand anyone around me. What language had I been learning for the past 6 and a half years? My first companion was from East Germany and spoke no English, except a few swear words. I understood him better than the Swiss, but I had to resist contributing to his existing English list. He told me I talked in my sleep in English and German. We had some good experiences together.

In my next area, Langenthal, I got a new companion that I was having difficulty getting along with. He reminded me of my dad, always having to be right. I was feeling alone, homesick and depressed. I sat on my bed cross-legged and prayed. Immediately, I felt an overwhelming warmth and it was as if someone was giving me a big hug. I felt loved and cared for. The homesickness immediately went away. Looking back on this experience now, I know the hug came from my, yet to be conceived, daughter, Damia. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father for allowing me to have that experience. I went on my mission for the wrong reasons, but I stayed because I had a testimony of Jesus Christ and believed in sharing His gospel.

Home Again

Coming home from Switzerland was a culture shock. All through my mission I received happy letters from my parents. They painted a picture of a perfect, loving life at home. I thought they had changed for the better. I was so wrong. I realized things were even worse than before I left. There was more tension, more arguing, more verbal abuse. What made it even worse was that all my friends were on missions, had moved away to school, or were married. For two years, I had been free, now, the depression came back in full force. I needed an escape, so it wasn’t long before I began drinking again.