Everything Would Be Okay

So I finally fessed up. I got in contact with the mission nurse about my problems and she got the ball rolling. But nothing really happened for a week. Then Sweet Sister Caldwell, Sister Trainer Leader Extraordinaire, came to visit us. I couldn't exactly hide what was going on, so she observed and tattled to president. So Saturday afternoon I get a call from President Packard. The kind you never want to get.  He tells me that he knows my problems are worse than I let on, and he gave me an out. Let me know that honorable release was a wide open option. But in my mind, it SO WAS NOT. I assured him that with help, I'd be just fine. 

That day I met with a therapist for the first time and felt good about life. I could do this. No sweat. Then that night we got T-Texts. (The text messages that tell us whose getting transferred.) And I'm being transferred to Rhode Island. Away from my beloved SJ. The person who was forcing me to hold it together! But we trusted in the Lord and tried to move forward with a smile. My new comp Sister C was absolutely wonderful and the people of Westerly were a dream. But I was steadily getting worse. 

Just a week from that first phone call with President Packard, we were talking again, this time with me wondering if maybe, just maybe, he was right about me going home to get better. What created this sudden change?? Let me tell you.

Friday night, Sister C and were trying to go to sleep and I was having my usual bout of panic attacks. The poor girl fell asleep to me hyperventilating every night. She was listening carefully and goes "Sister Lewis, are you breathing??" So I started breathing again. Then a weird thought occurred to me:

What would happen if I stopped breathing?

What would that feel like?

So I tried it, and it hurt. So I breathed. 

But in that moment, I was terrified.

To my normal brain, the idea of suicide was utterly repulsive. But in my current state....it wasn't. 

And that scared me.

And so began the week of indecision: stay or go?

I wanted more than anything to stay and be a good missionary. But I was hurting. Getting out of bed was a marathon. Trying to focus on the needs of others was harder than it'd ever been. I was half a missionary. I prayed and prayed all week. I talked to my parents. I talked to numerous people on the mission, received priesthood blessings. Finally by Wednesday the answer came. It was time to go get healthy.

I made the choice, then went to a dinner appointment. Ate. Went to the bathroom and promptly threw up. What the ??? Was this a sign??? I was stressed. So that night, the zone leaders came to give me a blessing that filled me with such comfort. The next few days were rough. I had come to a point where I didn't trust myself anymore, my thoughts or my feelings. So I had to learn to trust those who were closest to the situation and cared about me. The list started to grow. 

President and Sister Packard

Sister C

SJ

Elder Weckesser (the zone leader)

Joey (My therapist in the field)

Sister Caldwell

All these people could see that I deserved to live better than the way I was. 

Coming home was terrifying. Once I stepped off the plane, I promptly began to have a panic attack that lasted until I got to end of the gate and saw my mom and sisters. That's when it hit me. 

I was home.

These people loved me.

Everything would be okay.