I published this 15-day grief journal with the hopes of it being a help and source of comfort to anyone also going through hardship, who is struggling to find direction and hope. In it, I reflect on the book of Job and how we can best respond, process and recover from grief.

Yesterday, at noon, I was discharged from my 4-day stay in the hospital. The first thing I had to do was go back to my place to collect what I needed for the weeks ahead. Back to the place where so many things had happened. A serious car accident. Times I’d blacked out while having borderline splits, or episodes. And, most recently, where I’d OD’d.

Woke up this morning listless and disinterested, reeking of shame and abandonment. I couldn’t stop thinking that nothing could be better than where my life was headed prior to recent events. I also had an awful sore throat thanks to the intubation, and ended up waiting on the bed for 30 mins for my teledoc to get on a call with me. Not that I minded.

Last night, I emailed my clinic to change the appointments I’d scheduled today with both my psychiatrist and psychologist to virtual ones. 

Last night we celebrated my dad’s birthday at my sister’s (Avril’s), then went to play a pickleball tournament that Avril had arranged. When I arrived at Avril’s, I was immediately disoriented by the number of people there. Truly, there weren't that many, it was just our family – big for a family, but not quite a crowd. Still, I felt giddy and my mind couldn’t focus. My vision was blurry, my balance compromised. It was as if I was on something.

Yesterday was a struggle. I was stuck in an endless loop, ruminating on all the things I had lost in life. The people I lost. The ministry I lost. How abruptly my recent relationship had ended. 

Yesterday was a rough day. I was feeling the pull of depression, and ignoring my depressive thoughts just wasn’t working. I tried to focus on the positive – I’ve got an instax Polaroid printer, so I printed out some photos of my kids and friends, and of myself on a solo road trip to the valley of fire in Vegas. 

Something that I’ve always had, but have lost in recent days, is my vision. In whatever season I’m in, wherever I am in life, I’ve always had a prophetic vision of where God is taking me. I now realise that for the past two weeks, I haven’t had any. What lies ahead is a dark smog, and I am afraid. I must choose: to lean on God, or to fade away. The missing vision points to two possibilities. Either there is nothing left for me, or I’m on a journey, and God is now putting me in a position where I have nothing but His grace and truth. 

I believe that the key to my recovery was accepting my circumstances. Today, for the third day in a row, I woke up not feeling completely frail and feeble. As I continue this journey day by day, reading through Job and studying the words, praying, worshiping, and talking to Reb, hope ever so slowly grows. 

Today is day 4 of feeling stronger, of waking up in optimism rather than inadequacy. As I read Job 18-22 today, my fixation is on maintenance. Maintenance of my soul and spirit. That my focus will always be on the Lord, and not on myself or others. I have begun to feel the first results of what God is doing in me. Right now, my greatest desire is no longer escape from my circumstances. Although admittedly, that would be amazing. 

I am writing this a few days later. Late on Thursday night, the 26th of September, I was triggered and impulsively OD’d again. After a bit of a tussle for my pills with Rebekah, I escaped downstairs with nothing but my iPad and wallet, bought an orange juice, and swallowed another 4k mg of amitriptyline. The general idea was to get into the tree line nearby, but I didn’t get very far before passing out on the sidewalk.  

Waking up in hospital after a second attempt feels silly. I woke up intubated, again. Everything was a blur. I’d been in a BPD split when I made this last attempt – I had no foresight. I’d never intended for this to happen. 

It's kind of strange to be writing a “12th day back” while still admitted for a second suicide attempt. But this is real, and it's raw, and I’m done making things look more sanitary than what they actually are for other peoples’ comfort. If anyone reads this, I trust that God will use this for good through His power. 

Well, I’m back again. I was discharged yesterday morning. It’s a scary thing, how a hopeful soul can plunge so quickly into hopelessness. I do think that we need to deeply reconsider the characteristics that makes one “at risk” for suicide. On Thursday, the day of my second attempt at suicide, I was actually feeling hopeful – as you can see in Day 9’s post. What I didn’t recognize was that I definitely wasn’t out of the tunnel yet. 

For the last two years, I took my life into my own hands. After being neglected in times of need in my ministry, and in complete emotional impoverishment, I totally changed how I approached life. I found people who would fully support me, who were fiercely loyal, and surrounded myself with them. I created an island where I was the supreme overlord. I had no trust for people, including those closest to me who only had only proven to be completely devoted. Most of all, I had no trust in myself. I’d traded a free life in Christ for something that I felt could keep me safe. It blew up in my face. 

This final chapter of Job has always been something I’ve looked to as the goal of any believer. It was how I concluded my very first sermon in 2018. Job achieves steadfastness here, and declares that while he had only heard of God before, now, he sees Him. It’s incredibly powerful.