Why I'm Glad I Went to a 12 Step Group When I Did

My brother and I were still living with our parents -- post his college graduation and my mental breakdown -- when this conversation happened. The four of us were having dinner together; I don't remember how we got on the topic, only that we discussed how my sister (who has a Masters in Psychology) is of the opinion that everyone ought to participate in a 12 step program because they're so helpful.

At this point in my life, I had just finished doing a show - my first show in more than 12 years and my very first show as musician - and, although my mental health had been stable for over a year, my stress level was still elevated from the show. That being said, I surprised myself by announcing that I'd be quite fine with going to a 12 step group -- if one existed for people with mental health struggles (I didn't want to go to an AA meeting even though I'm told that everyone is welcome there). And so from there, I emailed the therapist that I was seeing at the time and asked her if she knew of any 12 step groups that would be good for me. She knew of two; one was Emotions Anonymous (which I know nothing about) and the other was Celebrate Recovery. I got on Celebrate Recovery's website, found contact info for the group that was closest to me and emailed the leader. I received a warm, welcoming and inviting email back and, due to a previously scheduled conflict, put it on my calendar to go in a couple of weeks.

The day of, I went to work, per usual, and was insanely anxious the whole day in anticipation of going into something so unknown by myself. I was so determined to do it, though, so I took my emergency medication to help me calm down and texted my family to ask them for prayers. While the seconds ticked away at work, I was amused that I didn't mind any of the children's behavior since it worked as such a great distraction for me.

And then I went. It was one of the first times following my breakdown that I went to a new place for the first time without having driven there the day before to figure out where it was (my intention being to give myself one less thing to be anxious about). This time, I drove confidently and parked out of sight of the door. A few minutes before the meeting began, I finally took a deep breath and walked through the doors like I knew what I was doing. I walked up to a couple of people who were sitting at a table chatting. It turns out that one of them was the group's leader (who I had emailed) and the other a woman who would be in my small share group. I was warmly welcomed and was immediately aware of a strange confidence I had, despite my anxiety, that I was exactly where God wanted me to be.

The meeting went very well. I felt loved, included and understood. When I returned home, I told my mom that I would be going back the following week. And I did!

I attended every week for an entire year before COVID hit and in that time I formed friendships with people who I saw myself being friends with and even a few who I thought I'd never be friends with. Two of the girls I met there are now my best friends and, with a couple of other girls who we've brought in through different connections, we now do weekly movie nights. And each week as we're watching the movie, it's a wonder to me how I got here. Before my childhood best friend died, I was so lively and outgoing. Then, for 12 years, I lived in ignorance of the anxiety and isolation that I experienced every day. I finally got to therapy but only after a mental breakdown. Then came a show which gave me the courage to go to a 12 step group and I'm now the happiest I've been since childhood!

These life experiences and choices have been hard and, at times, excruciating but today I can confidently say that absolutely all of it has been so worth it. And Celebrate Recovery? Going was one of the best choices of my entire life.

I'm no longer able to allow comments on individual posts but you are welcome to email me your thoughts. I look forward to hearing from you! Keep your heart up!

SARAHFIDDL3R@GMAIL.COM

Praying Yourself to Sleep

Disclaimer: this post is not about the rosary.

I sometimes experience nights when falling asleep is the most stressful thing I've done all day. I'm literally lying there in bed trying to relax when the racing heartbeat comes and my mind starts telling me that I've forgotten how to fall asleep and then I get more anxious because I'm worried about getting enough sleep and hitting snooze in the morning because I didn't sleep well, but then being on time to work... and all the things.

Recently, I had the worst time trying to fall asleep which was surprising to me considering how tired I had been that day. I was feeling increasingly stressed so I got up, took my meds, got back in bed and began praying one of my favorite go-to prayers: "Come, Jesus, come!" (Catechism of the Catholic Church 2666).

I then did small exercises to help my body relax (tensing every muscle from feet to head for a few seconds, then relaxing). As I relaxed a bit, I let my mind drift to entertaining thoughts about Jesus. Specifically, I thought about the end of John's Gospel when Jesus makes breakfast for the Apostles on the beach. And for what was probably the first time in my life, I wondered how long Jesus had been there on the beach waiting for them.

Did he just show up, snap his fingers and everything was ready or did he get there early and prepare the same way any of us would have?

I entertained the latter thought. I put myself there in the scene with Jesus. And it was so relaxing and fulfilling, you know, hanging out with Jesus in the early morning on the beach, helping him get breakfast ready for the others. I could almost feel the wind against my face and blowing through my hair. Through squinty eyes in the wind, I looked at Jesus. He had already been gazing at me, his face so calm and his eyes so full of love. What great joy there is in two people who love each other deeply offering themselves in service of other people...

The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off the following morning and it was time to get ready for work.

I love the little bit I've learned about Ignatian prayer but I don't know that I'd ever experienced a moment of prayer that was as real as this was. It reminded me -- again -- of just how well Jesus knows my heart and how much he loves me. We could have been hiking or on a mountaintop, on a boat, out for a walk, or in any one of the parables or other bible stories. But we were on the beach in the early morning working together to prepare a meal for our closest friends. These are all things that are so dear to my heart -- and I can't even begin to comprehend how dear I am to His!

Dec. 28, 2016: The Day My Life Began to Change for the Better

One year ago today, I published my first post on this blog as a small celebration of the second anniversary of my mental breakdown.

My breakdown happened while I was visiting my parents and my sister had just finished giving me a haircut. After I fainted twice consecutively, I was transported to the ER where I was eventually sent home with the paper that tells you to follow up with your PCP within 48 hours of an ER visit.

I dreaded my first anniversary. My therapist tried hard to help me think of it in a new light but a "spiritual awakening" just didn't sit well with me. I told her that I was so afraid of having a panic attack and fainting again. At last, the only thing that helped even just a little bit was recognizing the significant amount of therapy I'd been through in the meantime and realizing that I was in much better health now then I was before.

Last year, as my second anniversary approached, I was still not excited about it but neither did I dread it. I quietly prepared to start my blog on the anniversary and, the day before, I stopped on my way home from work and bought a piece of tiramisu that I would eat at work the following day to celebrate my anniversary.

And that worked. Just that small, delicious celebration that I treated myself to completely changed my perspective on my anniversary and made it a day that I realized truly is one to celebrate. Though the immediate aftereffects of the day was the hardest experience of my life thus far, I now can see that December 28, 2016 is the day that my life began to change for the better.

Today is 3 years since my mental breakdown - something that seemed impossible to me during the intensity of my suicidal ideations. I've now been at my current job for as long as I was at my "dream job" (read my letter for reference) and I can't believe how much happier I am and how happy I am - but I sure am loving it! I did a holiday show again this year. Last year I was stressed out as I learned the process of creating a show (but I still had an overall incredible time!); this year, I was relaxed as I trusted the process while giving my all at work and at the theater. Today, I'm enjoying brunch and a movie with several friends -- most of whom I didn't even know at the time of my breakdown!

I am alive, happy and embracing opportunities I never thought I could and I truly believe that I am better for them. Lord, find me grateful!

15 Steps I Took When I Knew I Was Suicidal

Now that my letter has been published, you know more of my story and the journey that I’ve been on for most of my life. But there's only so much that can be included in a letter that’s meant to be no more than 1500 words, so I want to follow it up with this post to share what would have been much too long to share in the letter: the steps I took while being suicidal.

Although these are numbered, they are not necessarily numbered chronologically. I was in an emergency situation, had no guide book, and — out of fear — wouldn’t even tell my mom at first and didn’t know what to do (other than act on the ideations but, even then, that still, small voice inside me reminded me of my desire for Heaven and I knew that suicide was no guarantee that I would get there). Terrified and alone, the first thing I did was...

1. Told My Priest and my Doctor

This part of my story begins with a text message from my brother. Knowing I was struggling with depression and anxiety, he asked how I had been doing that day. “Other than thoughts of cutting my wrists, I’m great” was my reply (a dry sense of humor runs in the family). He immediately asked permission to call me and we spoke on the phone for the next two hours. I told him truthfully that I was not suicidal and, by the time we hung up, I was feeling pretty good.

But the very next morning, I awoke to a suicidal ideation which included a plan. Thankfully, I couldn’t act on that particular plan because I don’t own the instrument that I saw in the plan. It was, nonetheless, terrifying. My depression and anxiety triggered due to the ideation, I met with my priest after Mass that morning and told him of my ideation. He immediately prayed with and for me, which was helpful and I did relax a bit, but additional help and support was clearly necessary.

That night, my doctor called me and I told her that I was suicidal. She asked me to put my mom on the phone and told my mom that I would be spending the night at home and that, if my mom wouldn’t take me to the ER the next morning, she would.

2. Went to the ER

My Mom took me to the ER. I still hadn’t told her. I couldn’t. I was so scared. I told the nurse in triage. Then I saw my first psychiatrist who prescribed my first medication and also gave me the choice between hospitalization or Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP). I didn’t want hospitalization. By now my Mom knew and I had a surge of confidence in our ability to communicate so, if I had to do one or the other, it would be PHP. I was put on the waiting list. The waiting list was about a week long (which is forever for someone who was in my situation).

3. Told EVERYONE in My Family and Made Sure There was Always Someone With Me

Mom and I left the ER and went out for ice cream. I felt more confident since it seemed like we had an action plan. We now both knew that I was suicidal and I determined, hard as it would be, to call everyone in my immediate family (I have 5 siblings so this was a big commitment) and tell them that I was suicidal. I knew that if I had any chance whatsoever of survival, we all had to know. I needed that support.

As I began to communicate more openly with my family, gifts began to show up on our doorstep with my name on them. It was puzzling because I hadn't ordered anything. There was a fuzzy panda bear blanket from my brother and sister-in-law and a necklace with Philippians 4:13 on it from my sister. Though my love language is not gift giving or receiving, these little things from my further-away siblings went a long way in helping me to feel their love, support and encouragement.

Meanwhile, they also made sure that I was always with someone with whom I felt safe. The chances of attempting suicide are far less when with company so my local siblings, family members, and closest friends all jumped on board. I appreciated this very much, especially because my love language is quality time and so spending hours with people who I felt safe with was so good for me.

The occasion was my brother's college graduation. Remember that mental illness is a very hidden suffering: you would never know that I was depressed, anxious and suicidal; in fact, I hadn't eaten anything that day and was considering starvation. Please don't be afraid to ask your friends how they're doing. I mean, how they're *really* doing.

4. Switched Therapists

Within just a couple of days, I was admitted into a Partial Hospitalization Program but not the one whose waiting list I had been on. (My daily and nightly panic attacks were hospital level and very, very scary so my Mom and my Aunt did a lot of research while I was sleeping off some medication one afternoon and, when I woke up, they had my next step figured out.) At PHP, I met daily with a Psychiatrist and, due to schedules on their side, worked with two different therapists. My psychiatrist — who was absolutely wonderful to work with — recommended his practice for after my discharge not because I could continue working with him but because his colleagues have an excellent reputation. Longer story very short, I left my first therapist (who I mentioned in my letter. The reason is that we were not the right fit for each other) and switched to a group therapy at his practice. From there I stayed at that practice but eventually switched to individual therapy again to do CBT. That was an incredible experience and the story is in my letter.

5. Left My Job

The first 4 steps were chronologically what happened. Here, I’m transitioning out of the story and into the facts. Prior to my breakdown (please read my letter if you have not yet already), I could not admit that I was miserable. I wanted so much to love my job but I just didn’t. Since I was suicidal, my psychiatrist at PHP encouraged me to get a new job. Apparently, that’s the advice he gives to all patients who are suicidal and that makes sense. I did leave my job and accepted unemployment. I will forever be immensely grateful to my parents for welcoming me back home and caring for me.

6. Texted the Suicide Hotline Number

Once I learned of it a few months in, I began texting the National Suicide Hotline Number. I texted that number so many times that they recorded my name/number and would greet me by name when I texted (that was only creepy the first time). Was it helpful? Kinda... although I already knew the coping skills and breathing exercises that they recommended from my time in PHP. For me, it really was just a reason for me to not think (or not think entirely alone) about my ideations and severe anxiety.

7. Had a Physical List of People to Contact When I Needed To and was as Transparent as Possible

There’s nothing worse that being alone when you’re triggered. The isolation means that the lies swimming in your mind are suddenly on steroids, the battle feels too big and overwhelming and giving up seems the easiest way. At PHP, I created a physical list of people to contact in these moments and I would text all of them and engage with anyone who responded. In those moments, it’s literally ANYTHING you can do that keeps you from acting on the ideations. 

Further, I told my family and closest friends what I saw in my ideations. Subsequently, my parents hid the kitchen knives. To this day, I have no idea where they kept them for those several months. They only brought them out for cooking, then quickly cleaned them and put them right back in their hiding place.

8. Got a Temporary (“transition”) Job

I was unemployed and dreading employment, having lost trust in employers. I’m a preschool teacher and, as it turns out, the Preschool Director at our Church has a great relationship with our family. She offered me a very part time, temporary job and I reluctantly accepted it. It was a great choice and, within only two weeks of that job ending, I landed my current job where I am, to this day, very happy.

9. Using a Weighted Blanket

Simultaneously to getting a temporary job, we learned about weighted blankets and did our research about them. They are helpful for people who suffer from nightmares, anxiety, depression, sleeping disorders, etc. My mom bought me one and that coupled with a medication change and a new job seemed to work its magic on me and I finally began to be consistently better and better.

10. Met with My Priest on an As-Needed Basis

My priest has known me for half my life and, if my Mom texted him to ask for his soonest availability because I needed to talk to him, he was ready. I am painfully aware of how great a gift this is but I do encourage you to talk to a priest after Mass about your struggles if any of this resonates with you.

11. Prioritized Daily Mass, Listened, Prayed and Trusted

I prioritized daily Mass and that was the majority of my prayer life outside of my ultimate intention to offer up all of my suffering. There was no consolation at Mass except for the head-knowledge of Jesus’ True Presence in the Eucharist. At this point, it was more conviction than anything else. I was in intense physical pain, the anxiety was so great, and the only consolation the Eucharist gave me was the strength to keep fighting for another day. I received the Sacrament of Anointing several times throughout these 10 months of suffering and it’s really the graces of the Sacraments that kept me going.

People around me were praying for me and I leaned on their prayers. It was hard to trust God, hard to trust their prayers and hopes for me but, simultaneously, I literally had nothing better to do. I didn’t know when or if my suffering would end. They told me it would but I didn’t know if I could believe them. The only person who I came close to believing told me, with tears streaming down her face, that she had heard God whisper in her heart, “Soon, but not yet.” Within three months, I entered remission.

12. Wrote Letters

Several friends asked what they could do to help. There wasn’t much, honestly, because my group of trusted people was very small. I would always ask for their prayers and I would sometimes ask if they enjoyed letter writing. To my delight, I was able to exchange letters with several people for a few months. It’s also the little joys that kept me going.

13. Avoided Alcohol

Countless times while in PHP, I was asked when my last drink was. I’d self-medicated on alcohol in the past but, after my mental breakdown, I began to take my recovery seriously. I knew that if I wanted any chance of survival, alcohol wouldn’t be part of my journey. So my last drink before my breakdown was Christmas day and it would be months before I had another one. There was so much trial and error with different medications that I was grateful that alcohol had no influence on any of it.

14. Never Attempted Anything

As real as the ideations seemed, as intense as the pain was, as lonely as I felt, and as much as I wanted out (believing myself to be a burden to the world), I never attempted anything.  It seemed like I had every plan in the book and sometimes circumstances would reveal new plans. It was terrifying. And it’s only by the grace of God that any of this is true.

This is the baby who I so desperately wanted to meet, one of the forefront reasons in my mind for not acting on the ideations in those moments. Holding him for the first time was the moment that I chose life once and for all because I wanted to get to know him.

He is all joy and I've never once regretted that choice. Also, that necklace is the one from my sister with Philippians 4:13 on it.

15. Celebrated the Milestones

The therapist with whom I worked the longest (a year) and I celebrated together every milestone along my path to recovery. The first time that I talked myself out of a panic attack, we celebrated the following week with ice cream. It truly doesn’t take much to celebrate and it goes a long way for the client's recovery and for the relationship between therapist and client which, I believe, is what's more important: a therapist can give you the tools that you need but a good relationship with your therapist is really what makes all the difference.

My Family, Aug 2019

It's a hard journey but it's a worth-it journey. Life is worth living. Keep your heart up!

____________________________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for your positive response to my letter, for sharing it on your own social media accounts and to everyone who took the time to message me. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people in my age group (which is absolutely gut-wrenching and heartbreaking); I wrote my letter (and this post!) to be shared in hopes of helping others catch a glimpse of hope in the midst of their struggles. It's why I have this blog, why I've chosen to share my story and it's given greater meaning to all the suffering that I endured.

So thank you for your responses, your encouragement, and your prayers for me and for everyone who has read and will read my letter. I truly believe that prayer makes a difference!

I Talked Myself Out of a Panic Attack

I already knew that my anxiety was triggered. This was obvious because I could barely eat anything for dinner the night before. This, uncharacteristically of me, did not concern me too much even though a light dinner typically means a rough morning the following day. I've made some significant and successful changes to my early morning routine so I was feeling confident as I fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke up and knew immediately that my body was a little off. I still ate my protein bar first thing while sipping water, then took an extra minute in a slightly cooler than usual shower. I was starting to feel better.

After I spent some time in prayer accompanied by my iced tea, I put in an online order for a smoothie to top off my breakfast, got my lunch together and set off for another day with some of my favorite kids.

The weather was cooler, like Fall even though it's still early September and I live in Virgina. Still, it made our early morning outdoor time at school more enjoyable as we wrapped ourselves in sweaters.

Around 9:30, though, inside doing Circle Time with my class, I felt my stomach drop and, with it, my anxiety heighten. I quickly took off my sweater as I got hot and a bit lightheaded. My mind started telling me that I wouldn't make it through the day, working with kids is too stressful, I'll never live on my own because it's just not safe, I won't be able to keep my job because I'm not strong enough... all of it.

This is what anxiety does for me. I started that sentence in the last paragraph with "My mind started telling me" because not one of those things is true. And I know that when these racing thoughts come, they are lies and if I let myself dwell on them I will plunge myself into a downward spiral and end up in a panic attack. Typically, panic attacks last 20-30 minutes and you feel like you're going to die. (But you won't. No one has ever died of a panic attack.) I knew I had to get myself out of this thought pattern before I came to deeper waters.

The children now happily sitting around the tables eating their morning snack, I quickly took my emergency meds, grabbed my water bottle, sat down under the AC to slowly drink my water and started repeating over and over quietly in my head: "Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me...".

I continued repeating it. The Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 2666 says "The Name of Jesus is the only name that contains the presence it signifies." I knew that by praying His Name and saying this truth over myself, I was slowly bringing myself to an awareness of His presence right there and then, reminding myself also that life happens a day at a time, a moment at a time and all those lies that my mind was telling me are only empty words. They have no truth in them.

I continued praying "Jesus loves me" in my mind over and over and over as we took our class outside to read a book and explore the outdoors. Sitting around a picnic blanket with my class, I put my hand gently on top of the grass and I noticed how it felt on my hand. I took slow and steady deep breaths, noting how the air smelled and tasted. I looked around at my class and noticed each of my students' faces and outfits. I continued to note my breathing to make sure that it stayed calm. This is a practice of Mindfulness. My goal was to make sure that I stayed engaged with reality.

As the children scampered around like little squirrels exploring the outdoors, I continued to sip my water. I purposefully kept a little smile on my face because this relaxes my face and my body. All the while, I'm still praying - sometimes softly saying it aloud - "Jesus loves me... Jesus loves me...".

My body still felt heavy. But my mind was now in a place where I could think more rationally. I told myself that calm is contagious and that I was proud of myself for taking ownership of my body and of my mind, and for reaching out to Jesus for help.

By the time I was back to a place where I was confident about being at work and life in general, two whole hours had passed.

You'll read more about "young Sarah" (birth to age 12) in my letter when it's published on Sept 25. For now, I'd like to share that this "new Sarah" -- the Sarah that utilized her coping skills to make it through a hard morning at work --  is a lot like "young Sarah" but she's so much stronger now having gone through what you'll read about in my letter. It's not easy to share this story with you (my letter or this post). But I am because maybe you can relate to it and maybe you find peace and strength knowing that you're not alone.

Lord, find me grateful! _____________________________________________________________

Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. 

When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

As always, I'm also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there: @sarahloutherese God bless and keep your heart up! For more information on Mindfulness: https://catholicpsych.com/ Calligraphy by The Oodles of Doodles: Etsy shop and Instagram

Investing in a Passion

Last year, I did a show. I portrayed a poor musician in a community theater production of A Christmas Carol that was set in St. Louis in the 1930s. I played fiddle.

Intending to be honest with the director, I told her that I was terrified even though, upon request, I had no lines to memorize. I do love my instrument but I hadn’t played consistently in a while. I love the arts but I hadn’t been on stage in 16 years and my anxiety had been under control for almost a year but I still had my doubts. The director told me that she understood and literally promised me that I would fall in love with the process and come away from the experience having completely enjoyed myself. I think that’s what she would tell just about anyone but, I will say, she’s known me for 20 years. I chose to trust her.

Before the show opened, it had been about 6 weeks of daily rehearsals and feeling simultaneously overwhelmed and excited by it all when I came across this quote while looking at jewelry on Amazon. The necklace that I never bought had this etched on it: “To play a wrong note is insignificant. To play without passion is inexcusable.” (-Beethoven) It was at the core of what the more experienced musicians around me were telling me but it was hard for me to believe (further, it was not what I expected any of them to say). At this point, though, I began to trust it — partially because Beethoven knows what he’s talking about. I didn’t want the necklace but I still made the quote look cute in my violin case.

The show was amazing. Frankly, I can’t believe how much I loved it and I’m so grateful. Afterwards, while watching a recording of the show, I finally saw what everyone had been telling me all along. All those notes that I missed on stage and was so worried about? I still noticed but I finally saw that it really didn’t matter. The violin merely faded for a couple of beats then came back strong (but that’s really only my opinion as someone with a trained ear. The audience most likely didn’t notice anything remotely amiss). What I saw was that none of the perfectionism in me that was rallying my anxiety was worth it. Perhaps my skill level does not equate to concert violinist — as I once dreamed it would — but I’m realizing how grateful I am for that.

For the first 3 years after graduating college, I was basically a workaholic. It wasn’t by choice and the extreme lack of a balanced lifestyle nearly killed me. But due to exhaustion and a somewhat shy, introverted nature, I never did anything other than work and isolate myself when not at work. While recovering from my mental breakdown and in the midst of therapy, I learned a lot about the importance of self-care. I began thinking of a balanced lifestyle from the perspective of self-care and even began considering going to work for a healthy amount of time at a time as self-care. When not at work, I knew what wasn’t healthy for me and so, steadily over the last couple of years, I’ve been learning that it’s good to have fun and investing in something I’m passionate about is a good compass for having fun.

I’m still figuring things out but my first big priority did become investing in something that I’m passionate about. Violin isn’t my only instrument — it’s not even my first instrument! — but it is the instrument that I’m most passionate about. While preparing for the show, I found out that a friend’s husband teaches violin and I was able to meet with him before getting into the thick of rehearsals to help me get back into practice. 

There are purchases — big and little — that I regret; I’ve never once regretted what’s ultimately learning more about violin. Violin has always been a great joy for my heart and I love sharing that joy when I have the opportunity to. Once upon a time, I dreamed of seeing my name in lights. Now, I don’t care whether or not that ever happens. What’s important to me is that I love playing and it’s a great joy to do so. I don’t ever want to forget it.

________________________________________________________________________________

Hey friends! Thanks for being here and reading along with my pursuit of an abundant life (cf John 10:10)! I’m excited to share that my story with mental illness, written in the form of a letter for the blog The Catholic Woman and their series Letters to Women, will be published there on September 25. Please join me in praying for the letter and for everyone who will read it. When it is published, I need your help! I hope that this letter reaches many hearts but I can’t do that by myself. Please share my letter when it is published. Sometimes what people won’t hear from their family members they will from someone else. This story isn’t so much about mental illness as it is about God’s love and mercy and how I came to find my home in his heart.

As always, I’m also over on Instagram and I enjoy connecting with you there! @sarahloutherese.

God bless, and keep your heart up!

Scrupulosity and Divine Mercy

By Samantha Kopy

It was honestly an incredible miracle that I found the Catholic Church. I visited so many others and searched for years for the Truth, and when I was 17 I said yes and was Baptized. I was finally home. But soon after, I battled one of the biggest, longest and scariest battles of my life so far: scrupulosity. 

It turns out, being in a state of grace didn’t magically make my childhood wounds disappear. The anxiety I had unknowingly struggled with since grade school suddenly became manifest in a very specific way through my newfound faith (but I had no idea it was mental illness and not...just me). I became intensely fearful of going to hell. I was incredibly aware of how little I knew about the faith and I was so, so afraid I would do something serious without knowing it and damn myself eternally. I became obsessive about my thoughts and had intrusive blasphemous thoughts constantly. If I was doing something while I had one (for example, picking up a shirt), I would repetitively do that action while mentally rejecting the thought until it went away. There were other symptoms and thoughts I struggled with but this was the biggest one for me. 

At this point in my life, I was going to confession multiple times a week — sometimes multiple times a day.  It was embarrassing and I knew something was wrong but I was stuck. I couldn’t get passed the fear of going to hell; I was worried if I told someone what I was struggling with and got help that I would then relax too much and commit a mortal sin and go to hell. I decided I’d rather live in a constant state of anxiety than risk going to hell. 

Never once, though, did it occur to me that this could be the manifestation of a mental illness. Priests never suggested in confession that I could be struggling with scrupulosity. Heck, I didn’t even know what scrupulosity was at the time!! 

I was filled with so much shame. 

It’s incredible sad. I believed God would rather have me live an anxious life that “pleased” Him...when he really created me for freedom in Him. I was not living in His freedom whatsoever; I was so obsessed with staying away from mortal sin that I didn’t have any energy left to actual live the abundant life He promised me. 

I wish I could tell you that I went to therapy, got on meds, and found true healing that way.  But honestly...I kinda “forced” myself to “get better” on my own before I even had the chance to seek help in the ways I probably should have. 

However, I know one of the things that helped was Divine Mercy. 

I immersed myself in St. Faustina’s Diary of Divine Mercy and began praying the chaplet of Divine Mercy frequently. My mind was BLOWN that mercy is the greatest attribute of God. I asked myself if I was living as if it was — and I wasn’t. I was living as if I believed that judgement was. 

This post —  my story — it’s not going to heal you. But my hope and prayer for you is that it helps you feel less alone in this battle, less crazy, and gives you a glimmer of hope. 

So...what will heal you? Well, first of all, admitting to yourself that something is wrong. Secondly, reaching out for help. Potentially a combination of therapy, and meds but also...

I highly recommend diving into learning more about Divine Mercy and praying the chaplet daily. The Lord will work through these to heal your mind and heart. All I can say is God created you for MORE; more than just to do the bare minimum and “squeak” into heaven--He desires you to start living the freedom and joy of heaven now — on earth! And scrupulosity has no part in that. 

P.S. If you feel alone in your struggle with scrupulosity and feel you have no one who understands, please feel free to DM over on IG @samantha_kopy.

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Sam, thank you so much for sharing your heart and story with us! God bless you!

The Feast of Divine Mercy is this Sunday! I pray that you immerse yourself in His mercy in a new way and accept even more His deep, personal love for you. -Sarah

Let’s keep in touch!

Email: sarahtheresetypes@gmail.com

IG: @sarahloutherese