Joy at the End of the Tunnel: How I Gained Freedom from Depression

Joy at the End of the Tunnel

How I Gained Freedom from Depression

by Stephen D. Edwards

Published by Stephen D. Edwards

Edmonton, Alberta, Canada T6R 0E1

© 2022 Stephen D. Edwards

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher, a license from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency—is an infringement of the copyright law.

For permissions contact:

[email protected]

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Edwards, Stephen Douglas, 1964 –

The Joy at the End of the Tunnel / Stephen D. Edwards

Hard Cover ISBN: 978-1-9991514-8-5

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7778808-3-5

eBook ISBN: 978-1-7778808-2-8

Cover photograph by Marc-Olivier Jodoin

Website: Marc-Olivier Jodoin Photography

Instagram

In loving memory of Larry McClure

Contents

Introduction

Part One – Into the Tunnel

1 - That Is Not Who I Am Now

2 - Self-Destruct Mode

3 - The Optimism We Need

4 - Hate Speech

5 - The Darkness in the Sadness

6 - The Devastation in Anxiety

7 - The Pain of Addiction

Part Two – Joy in Light

8 - Boundaries for a Healthy Life

9 - Amends and Forgiveness

10 - Reconciling Friendships

11 - Thankfulness

12 - Joy to All of Us

13 - Hope for All Time

14 - The Struggle Continues

15 - Trust Your Higher Power

Appendix – The 12 Steps of Recovery

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Notes

Introduction

Let me give you a glimpse into my story. I suffered from depression for about 35 years, slogging through it without the benefit of drugs or psychotherapy. After gaining freedom from the dark hole, I felt that I had to share my story.

I know only one thing about depression: It is the most difficult thing I have ever had to bear, and my friends and family past and present have also had to bear it vicariously, even as I suffered without their knowledge. Depression also defies description, as my description will be different from how the next person might describe it, and once I start describing it, I might have to confess membership in an on-and-on anon group, because I won’t be able to stop. It is a deep, dark, inescapable pit where up and down cannot be discerned. It is a quagmire of derision from endless sources. It is a waterfall of a variety of poisons contaminating the most precious and sacred landscapes, causing outcries of horror. It is a darkness so dark that darkness would call it darker than itself. In truth, it is where the enemy wants us all to reside for eternity, and forever brainwashed to believe the perception that no solution exists. A deceptively lit tunnel that turns dark once we enter to any depth, we cannot exit the way we entered. Okay! I have to stop! This is taking up too much space!

The odd thing about writing this book for readers who don’t believe in Jesus was that this was the one I wanted to write first. The difficulty I had in the drafting and editing was that I didn’t know how to write for non-believers. Sadly, after I thought it was complete, it turned out to be more geared to believers. So I had more work to do! However, I pushed forward and published The Branch and the Vine for Christian believers, leaving me to tackle this one that you are reading now. Why did I want to write two memoirs on this subject? I’m glad you asked. The reason is that many non-believers would not get past the terminology I use to communicate to Christians. Therein lies the problem for me. Both groups of readers have vast numbers of people who suffer from the malady I want to help overcome, and I want to reach both groups. However, each group receives information in different ways.

In the first chapter of this book, I share the what-happened of my story. In the next six chapters, I look into the causes of my suffering through depression. Although the causes of depression may seem important, to my way of thinking they are less important than the solutions. However, discussing the causes allows me to highlight some activities and habits that need to stop for most if not all of us. None of these causes is the focus of this book. The focus is on what to do about getting free from depression.

And in the last seven chapters, I discuss the solutions to our problem that can bring us into a freedom we have never had before. It is possible that one single solution resolves the issues, while the others take the freedom to another level; however, most of us need to incorporate more of these strategies and plans into our lives.

To communicate the single-sentence idea behind these ideas might be good for some of us, but this would have left me with an insurmountable barrier of how to do one. So I discuss how each of these strategies and plans works.

I’ve researched these methods so that as the author of this book, I’m not merely some guy telling his story, which only gives the hope of how you as the reader of this book can emerge from the darkness where you find yourself stuck.

Now there are no guarantees in this life, but all my friends with whom I shared a beta draft of this book have gained freedom from depression and are quite certain that it will not return in their lifetimes, because they gained the tools necessary to stay away from the despair that previously stole their lives.

As I say, there is no guarantee this will work for anyone, because there are so many factors. Whether you are at the point of complete desperation or concerned about friends’ or relatives’ mental health, I offer hope through my story and this book.

Let’s get started!

Part One – Into the Tunnel

1 - That Is Not Who I Am Now

I am stronger than depression and I am braver than loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

–Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love ¹

My battle with depression was rough, and I talk about it in the past tense because I am certain it is behind me. However, to get to this point was a process, and I didn’t go through it alone. I have a mentor and accountability partners who helped and continue to help me. Before I get much further, I’ll just say that all is in the past and forgiven. Amends have been made and relationships reconciled. Most important to me, that includes my family.

I am the eldest of three siblings, born and raised in Latin America of British parents who loved us and did their best as parents. We moved every two to four years.

At age 10, I joined the Boy Scouts and began to learn and gain recognition for skills and knowledge. The merit badges I earned gave me recognition that fulfilled a need for approval. But they also sparked a dream to achieve greatness in the top rank of Eagle Scout. With that goal in mind, my leaders advised me to seek the mentorship of a local priest. Little did I know that my Boy Scout days would soon end, and I had to give up that pursuit.

Yet, I had another dream—a bigger dream. I’d flown on airplanes a few times and even been invited into a cockpit in flight. I dearly desired to become a pilot, not because it’s a high-paying job or holds any prestige; it was just cool!

At home, there was frequent bickering and quarreling between my siblings and me. The fighting led my parents to decide to send me to a military boarding school when I was 11. They included me in the decision, so I can’t put everything on them for this. The thought of flying lessons offered by the school—and graduates would have opportunities in the US Air Force or as civilian aircraft pilots—convinced me to go. I might learn to fly? I might be an airline pilot? Yet somehow, those flying lessons didn’t get started, even though my peers talked about their experiences in the flight program. Attending this school killed both of my dreams—to become an Eagle Scout and to be a pilot!

The teachers were strict and rarely encouraged students. Many of the other students attending were cool and good friends, but they were not family. The school also failed to teach me the wisdom of discipline, which was my parents’ intent in sending me there. Instead, I saw many boys rebel against authority in ways I had never heard of. I saw many boys bully and try to make themselves lords over others, demanding praise like gods, while I needed a fatherly role model to follow, not even God.

That experience was horrible, and for many of us it might be enough to send us spiraling into depression. But I know that it was only a factor. Deep within me, I landed in the deep, dark hole of depression because of what happened back in grade one five years earlier. The teacher had each student stand up individually to count to 100 once per day until achieved. When I did trip on a number, the teacher would stop me and tell me to sit down and try again the next day. My classmates jeered and mocked me, but as unbearable as that was, the teacher’s lack of grace was worse. I have noticed that even these days, I have a tendency to trip over my words while trying to perform the same feat.

I can’t really remember what the teacher looked like, but the tone of her voice telling me to sit down became terrifying. I remember feeling so traumatized that I sometimes forgot to go back to class after lunch or recess. It was a serious hit to my self-esteem and confidence. I didn’t tell my parents about this issue, but soon after that, fights with my brother became quite frequent when I was at home.

Fast forward to the boarding school of bullies and derision. After three semesters, my parents allowed me to come home. But the family reunion would only last a year as my parents separated and later divorced. They decided that my brother and sister would move to Canada with my mother, while I stayed in Brazil with my father. Although I had a part in that decision, living with my father was a bad decision for me. I know that he loved me, but he didn’t father me and worshiped the gods of golf and other weekend pleasures. Even while at home the rest of the week, he was very distant. And in my earthly father’s abandonment, there was no one else I could trust enough to unload my burdens.

I began to lose sight of the light and joy at the end of my tunnel and become lost in darkness.

I sought the attention and approval of my peers, through partying and alcohol. It was during this time that I began to believe some lies about myself:

I’m not good at anything.

I have no talent.

I’m not smart.

I’m not manly nor courageous.

I have no future.

Nobody can forgive what I’ve done.

I’ll never change.

I need to fix these problems on my own.

Because of these lies, the light at the end of the tunnel was a mere glimmer in my minds eye. In my senior year of high school, I willfully turned away from God, telling my father that He could not possibly exist. I turned to Atheism. His dismay surprises me even now, because we did not attend a church except maybe once or twice through those high school years. My view of the end of the tunnel was more like a cul-de-sac in an unlit cave.

Academically, I was doing fairly well, but I had no plans beyond high school. It was as if I thought the plans would