I've been reading my old journals quite a bit recently. There's something fascinating about
reading a book in my own handwriting without having a memory of what the pages contain.
There are some entries I've read often enough since regaining my ability to make new memories
that I can tell you about the experiences scrawled on the pages as though I remember when it
happened. But I can't.
Sometimes it's like a gripping story, where I wonder what on earth is on the next page (not that
my life was all that exciting). Other times I stare in pity or wonder at what I wrote, because the
life described couldn't possibly be mine.
How could I have felt so out of control? How could I have been so hopeless? How could I have
lived with such despair? Yet, page after page, I did. For 12 years, my life continued with
oppressive depression, delusions and hallucinations. For some reason, Heavenly Father allowed
me to emerge, pick up my life's broken shards, meld them into hope, education and advocacy and
then move forward.
At times I feel what I refer to "survivor's guilt." Like many people who survive harrowing life
experiences, leaving loved ones or cherished teammates behind and moving forward with life, I
too wonder at times why I've been so blessed to experience such wellness and why I can't extend
the same wellness to those who've stood alongside me in group homes and locked facilities.
It's not as though my illness is gone. I have a chronic mental illness and a serious one at that. It's
just that I'm learning how to deal with it better to the point that my symptoms don't debilitate me
as they once did.
But still, the question remains, do I honestly deserve wellness more than others? Is there
something about my life that qualified me to get better? I don't think so, and yet I look at my
friends who still struggle as I did and wonder how it was possible for me to get better, when
they're doing some of the same things I have yet still haven't escaped the mental illness' tight
grasp to enjoy life with symptoms not as severe.
Personally, I know that Heavenly Father doesn't reward some children while leaving others high
and dry. I know I wasn't given my illness because I or my parents had sinned. Nor do I buy into
the idea that somehow before this life I chose to live with mental illness.
While I struggled with my acute symptoms, I'd often wonder why on earth I would have chosen
such a fate. People frequently told me that I chose my diagnosis because I didn't know that living
in mortality would be like.
I really don't think that's how Heavenly Father works. Quite honestly, I don't have an idea what
is in God's mind, but I do believe that since everyone on this earth lived with our Heavenly
Father before life on earth, He witnessed our strength in a way none of us can remember.
It's my humble opinion that when we experience the shortcomings, trials, struggles and
inequalities of this life, the only reason He allows us to pass through such perceived horror is
because He wants us to recognize how strong we truly are.
How many times have we gone through things that occurred through no fault of our own? Had
trials that pushed us further than what we believed was our human capacity? Has it ever felt like
life has kicked the chair out from under us, and yet somehow we continue? How many times
have we been pushed beyond what we felt was our breaking point and yet not broken?
President Gordon B. Hinckley said, "In all of living, have much fun and laughter. Life is to be
enjoyed, not just endured." But I think that regardless of our circumstances, frequently we're so
focused on enduring that we can't see the strength we have within and embrace it.
Now that I'm working harder on recognizing my potential as a child of God, things don't feel
hopeless. I don't feel helpless. I don't feel that my illness is completely out of control. I feel like
a survivor because I am one.
Although at times I struggle, I don't consider myself suffering from mental illness. I'm not a
victim. I am a warrior and for now, I'm enjoying and grateful for the war.
Sarah Price Hancock, a graduate of San Diego State University's rehabilitation
counseling Masters of Science program with a certificate psychiatric
rehabilitation.
Having embarked on her own journey with a mental health diagnosis, she is
passionate about psychiatric recovery. She enjoys working as a lector
for universities, training upcoming mental health professionals.
Sarah also enjoys sharing insights with peers working to strengthen
their "recovery toolbox." With proper support, Sarah
knows psychiatric recovery isn’t just possible — it’s
probable.
Born and raised in San Diego, California, Sarah served a Spanish-speaking
and ASL mission for the LDS Church in the Texas Dallas Mission. She
was graduated from Ricks College and BYU. Sarah currently resides in
San Diego and inherited four amazing children when she married the
man of her dreams in 2011. She loves writing, public speaking,
ceramics, jewelry-making and kite-flying — not necessarily in
that order.