FAITH & INSPIRATION / MINISTRY IMPACT searching for answers Emily felt like she was drowning in depressi<strong>on</strong>, so she went looking for help BY THOMAS JEFFRIES PHOTOGRAPHY BY BRENT LOOYENGA 26 FOCUS ON THE FAMILY <strong>June</strong> / <strong>July</strong> <strong>2020</strong>
MINISTRY IMPACT / FAITH & INSPIRATION SHE WAS THE KIND OF GIRL who embraced life and <strong>the</strong> kind who couldn’t bear to live ano<strong>the</strong>r moment. Emily had spent her 19 years caring about certain people far more than <strong>the</strong>y ever cared about her, and that night she just stopped caring. The weight and <strong>the</strong> suffocating darkness she had experienced before—back when her fa<strong>the</strong>r aband<strong>on</strong>ed her— had returned, but this time it was all-c<strong>on</strong>suming. She was <strong>the</strong> kind of girl who didn’t have many friends her age, not because she wasn’t friendly, but because overachieving and overcommitting to every extracurricular activity in sight didn’t leave much time for relati<strong>on</strong>ships. So when <strong>on</strong>e of <strong>the</strong> few friends Emily did have was killed in a horrific accident, <strong>the</strong> ensuing grief was just <strong>on</strong>e more st<strong>on</strong>e in a tower of depressi<strong>on</strong> she’d been building for m<strong>on</strong>ths. Emily was still grieving a couple of weeks after <strong>the</strong> accident, yet she arrived <strong>on</strong> campus eager to present her class project. She was <strong>the</strong> kind of girl who earned straight A’s, not just because she could, but to build herself up and to prove—to whom? herself? God?—that she was worthy and smart and capable. But that night in class, as students milled around <strong>the</strong> tables looking at <strong>on</strong>e ano<strong>the</strong>r’s projects, a couple of <strong>the</strong>m started yawning and walked away in <strong>the</strong> middle of Emily’s talk. Her classmates didn’t realize it, but Emily left <strong>the</strong> college that night feeling invisible. I’ll never be enough. I’ll always be forgotten. I’ll never matter to any<strong>on</strong>e. Of course it wasn’t true, but Emily wasn’t thinking clearly that night. By <strong>the</strong> time she got <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> freeway, she could see no hope for <strong>the</strong> future. She was no l<strong>on</strong>ger in c<strong>on</strong>trol. The tears flowed as she pressed <strong>the</strong> accelerator and closed her eyes. Emily was 4 when her parents split— over her fa<strong>the</strong>r’s drug and alcohol addicti<strong>on</strong>s. She gave her heart to Jesus at 9, <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> log benches of Twin Lakes Friends Camp in nor<strong>the</strong>rn Idaho. It was that same summer Emily couldn’t read <strong>the</strong> scoreboard at a baseball game. She simply needed glasses, <strong>the</strong> family figured, but <strong>the</strong> ophthalmologist said Emily’s optic nerves were <strong>on</strong> fire. The diagnosis was uveitis—severe inflammati<strong>on</strong> of <strong>the</strong> eyes caused by an overactive immune system. She was in pain and practically blind in <strong>on</strong>e eye. Within a year she was also being treated for juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. So why would her fa<strong>the</strong>r pick this moment—when his daughter’s body was ravaged by medicati<strong>on</strong>s that made her nauseated and exhausted, her hair brittle and her face swollen—to simply stop showing up? Why did he disregard ph<strong>on</strong>e calls and letters from a 10-year-old girl who was c<strong>on</strong>vinced that her daddy’s disinterest was rooted in her appearance, her sickness, her value? Did he know that his absence in Emily’s time of need c<strong>on</strong>vinced her that she must be bad or dumb or annoying or just plain ugly? “For several m<strong>on</strong>ths I waited expectantly at <strong>the</strong> living room window every Sunday afterno<strong>on</strong>,” Emily said, “hoping that perhaps this time he would come down <strong>the</strong> street for our weekly visits like he did before. “But he never did.” Her eyesight and joint pain eventually, sporadically improved, but not her faith in fa<strong>the</strong>rs. Two years passed before Emily saw her dad again, <strong>the</strong>n a decade. Sure, Emily still had her loving mo<strong>the</strong>r and her beloved nieces and nephews. She still had her church family—mentors like Auntie Brenda and Pastor Mike, who called Emily “a joy to be around.” Pastor Mike even treated her like <strong>on</strong>e of his own. But high school . . . high school was a l<strong>on</strong>g stretch of l<strong>on</strong>ely, filled with weary days and “this seat is saved” in <strong>the</strong> cafeteria. One of Emily’s few friends was Mikelli, a girl from church. Mikelli was a freshman when Emily was a senior; <strong>the</strong>y shared a music class at school, and though she wasn’t sure why, Emily prayed for Mikelli a lot that year. Mikelli was <strong>on</strong> her way to <strong>the</strong> North Idaho College jazz festival when <strong>the</strong> car she was riding in was struck at a railroad crossing. Emily, now a college freshman, was sitting <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> couch when she got <strong>the</strong> text. At first she just stared at <strong>the</strong> screen, not understanding. Then she dropped to <strong>the</strong> floor and screamed. Her grief c<strong>on</strong>tributed to <strong>the</strong> sadness that was already sinking in that winter. For weeks Emily had tried to ignore her growing anxiety, hoping it would go away <strong>on</strong> its own. But it didn’t, and Mikelli’s death weighed heavily <strong>on</strong> her that night as she headed to her evening class. The hurt of her fa<strong>the</strong>r’s aband<strong>on</strong>ment had also crept back. When she finally departed <strong>the</strong> campus that night, Emily was drained and empty from trying to win <strong>the</strong> approval of o<strong>the</strong>rs. Once <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> freeway, she couldn’t stop sobbing. A decade of physical, emoti<strong>on</strong>al and family pain came to a head as she pushed harder and harder <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> accelerator. Then Emily let go of <strong>the</strong> steering wheel, and <strong>the</strong> car began to drift her toward eternity. Whe<strong>the</strong>r it was <strong>the</strong> sound of <strong>the</strong> rumble strips or a rock hitting her car, Emily isn’t quite sure. Today, all she knows is that she opened <strong>June</strong> / <strong>July</strong> <strong>2020</strong> FOCUS ON THE FAMILY 27
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