The Little Town That Could

January 25, 2016 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 6 Comments

You know what I mean if you’re from a small town. You’re used to it – the laughs, the snickers from those “city-folk” who seem to think they have it all figured out. But there are just some things that they can’t understand – and won’t unless they become a part of a small community, just another name for a really big family.

I’m from small town Nebraska. And I couldn’t be more proud.

So where exactly am I from?

I’m from sledding down the overpass with the entire community after a snowfall.

I’m from vegetable soup brought over by friends the minute they hear you’re sick.

I’m from community fundraisers for anyone struggling with anything when the entire town comes out together in support.

I’m from sharing the reality with the world that your husband has attempted suicide five times and being terrified of what people think – except for the 4,000 or so you know will have your back. (read more of our story at www.jeremyandbailey.com)

Jeremy designed the cover of our book himself as this was such a personal endeavor.

Why be silent? We all have a reality.

I’m from a Facebook post about your lost dog that soon goes “Dawson County viral” because nobody wants your little boy to be sad for a minute longer about the fact that he can’t find his puppy.

I’m from quick grocery store trips that turn into hours because you found 40 or so people you just had to catch up with.

I’m from gravel roads and wood-burning stoves.

I’m from one stoplight (or none…I lost count).

I’m from one of the only video rental stores left in the state.

I’m from small-town businesses that consist of a greenhouse and nursery in the spring and summer and turn into a paint-your-own pottery and canvas art studio in the winter just to give families and friends something else to do.

I’m from sledding behind a four-wheeler.

I’m from driving around for hours drinking hot chocolate while looking at Christmas lights of your “neighbors” miles around.

I’m from holiday home tours and Mario Kart competitions.

I’m from every weekend at the lake in the summer (and often after work during the week too).

I’m from where people say “smells like money” when we take a whiff of the nearest feedlot.

I’m from Nebraska beef (enough said).

I’m from husbands and wives working together to run their family businesses.

I’m from gourd and pumpkin launching in cornfields.

I’m from chili and cinnamon rolls.

I’m from Runza.

I’m from Jesus.

I’m from asking for prayers and feeling the results.

I’m from volunteer fire and rescue teams.

I’m from life flights and town sirens that cause the community to all stop and pray (and I’m from the people who know what it feels like to need those prayers).

Jeremy’s truck after the accident in 2012. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to the Cozad Fire and Rescue team and to all doctors, nurses, ambulance, and flight staff.

I’m from angel trees and selflessness.

I’m from support groups and church families.

I’m from teaching the family business.

I’m from vacations to the big city that result in desperately just wanting to go home.

I’m from following tractors and cattle drives – and strongly preferring it to following bumper-to-bumper traffic.

I’m from high school sweethearts.

Jeremy and I had been dating for a little over a month in this picture…I was 16 (junior in high school) and he was 18 (senior). 🙂

I’m from knowing all the names and families of the custodians, mail persons, mechanics, etc. who take such good care of my family and friends.

I’m from in-home daycare providers who become family because they love your kids as much as you do.

I’m from 8-man football. (Go Eustis-Farnam Knights!)

I’m from Friday night lights and pee-wee flag football.

I’m from small-town fairs and church lawn gatherings.

I’m from bonfires and booze cruises (Disclaimer – the rule is drivers don’t drink in case you’re not from here.)

I’m from rescuing every pet you have ever found in the lake, on the side of the road, or in the shed.

I’m from community art & music events that bring out the entire town in support.

I’m from grandma and grandpa just down the road.

I’m from “It takes a village to raise a child.”

I’m from hay bales and highways.

I’m from a phone call from the neighbor telling you they saw your child act like an asshole and they know you’ll want to “take care of it.”

I’m from climbing the roof to see the storm.

The sun still beams through storms over Cozad, Nebraska in June of 2014.

I’m from friends in low places.

I’m from hunting and fishing.

I’m from cream cheese pickle rolls.

I’m from family game night.

I’m from small town Nebraska, and I’m me because of it. I would never raise my boys anywhere else.

I’m from the little town that could…you know, that town nobody understands unless they live here, that town so many believed would “go under” so many times, that town that continues to be the best place in the world to live. Yeah…that town.

Follow our story:

www.jeremyandbailey.com

www.jeremyandbaileyblog.com

Like Jeremy & Bailey Koch on Facebook

The Myth that is Valentine’s Day

January 16, 2016January 16, 2016 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / Leave a comment

“Beep. Swoosh. Beep. Swoosh. Beep. Swoosh.”

I sat next to my husband as I stared out the window of the ICU on the third floor at Creighton University Medical Center in Omaha, Nebraska. I listened as the machines breathed for him and closely monitored his heart. He had made it through one surgery, but many more were to come. His abdomen lay open with only a clear plastic covering over it; I was told this was necessary to continue draining his body of the toxins leaking from his fractured pancreas and to allow surgeons “easy access” should my husband code.

Jeremy in ICU, February 17, 2012.

I asked the same question over and over. “Is he going to live through this?” Nobody would give any answer other than, “We are going to do everything we can.” They gently handed the papers to me to sign; I knew Jeremy would want to donate his organs if anything could be saved. I signed them wondering if Hudson, age 5, and Asher, age 2, would remember their daddy. That’s the hardest memory, the one that makes me look like this today, January 16, 2016, as I write this post for you. I believe in honesty, I believe in being open with our story for the world to hear, but it’s never easy to relive all the details.

It was February 16, 2012, when I got the call that Jeremy had been in a car accident. We had no idea how bad it was at that time. Jeremy was life-flighted from Cozad, Nebraska to Kearney, Nebraska and then on again to Omaha when doctors discovered the severity of his internal injuries.

Truth be told, I immediately began questioning if Jeremy had done it, if he had succeeded in a suicide attempt.

After being diagnosed with depression in 2009, Jeremy’s mental health continued to deteriorate. To this day, Jeremy has survived five suicide attempts and the near-death car accident in 2012 directly after he began a new depression medication that caused him to black out at the wheel. He went straight into a semi-truck at 60 miles per hour. Yes, I said near-death. Jeremy survived. I’ll never forget his surgeon coming to me after the last surgery; he looked me in the eyes and said, “Aren’t you going to ask me the question?”

I couldn’t breathe anymore. Through gasps and uncontrollable tears, I managed to say, “Is he going to live?” one last time. Dr. Forse smiled and winked. “Yes.”

Jeremy’s truck after the accident in 2012.

Our family on Christmas Eve, 2015.

At this point, you are likely wondering what this post has to do with the myth that is Valentine’s Day. You may or may not have noticed the date of Jeremy’s accident, February 16, 2012 – two days after Valentine’s Day.

As I sat in the ICU listening to the machines keep my husband alive, I stared at the last picture of Jeremy and I on my phone.

It was Valentine’s Day, and it was a reason to tell each other we still love each other, to have a glass of wine together, and to actually get a babysitter and go out for an hour-long meal…just us, just to talk, just to have an excuse to be husband and wife without other distractions. Why? Because it was Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that what we are supposed to do one time a year?

I can’t tell you how disgusted I was staring at this picture as I sat next to my husband while he fought for his life. I remembered taking it over and over because I wanted my nails to look nice. I remembered Jeremy politely going along with my orders as I struggled to get it just right. I wanted the perfect picture to put on social media. My focus wasn’t on enjoying time with my husband, it wasn’t on truly showing him how much he means to me, it was on the world and how they believed our relationship should be.

I listened to the beeps and swooshes as they mocked me. I had become that wife. I had allowed life’s distractions to come before my marriage. I had used Valentine’s Day, one day a year, to make a big deal about my marriage. And even then, I failed miserably. I still didn’t focus on Jeremy, I focused on the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and society told me I was supposed to act a certain way, do a certain thing, and say certain words.

And two days later, two days after I behaved as Valentine’s Day told me I should, I was about to be a widow. This man. This man who had changed everything about me, loved every part of me, even and especially the parts of me I hated, was fighting for his life. Not only that, he fought every single day before this. I just refused to see it. I refused to see the callus, landscaper hands that worked so hard to plant trees and provide for our family. I refused to see the gentle man he became when he sat next to our boys and said bedtime prayers or held a beautiful baby boy in his arms, one he created with me. I refused to put him first, before our children, before our other family members, before our friends. I refused to show him every single day how much he means to me, that my world would stop turning without him. I refused. I had a choice, and I didn’t do it.

But what hurt the most is the fact that I refused to see how hard he fought his depression. Every day, no matter what, he tried with everything he had to get up when his brain told him to stay in bed. He fought his dark thoughts as best he could and chose to believe there had to be some reason, something good about living with depression and suicidal thoughts. There had to be a reason God continued to keep him here on this earth. Every day he fought his brain to still be here and be the man he knew we needed him to be. I realized I’ve never met anyone stronger, anyone with more love or passion in his heart. And I made a big deal over him on one day of the year.

My thoughts overtook me as my sight shifted from staring out the window to the beeping machines and back to my husband.

Why didn’t I do this every day? Why didn’t I get a babysitter once a week and take time to just be together? Why didn’t I hold him and tell him how proud of him I am, how much I love him for how hard he fights? Why didn’t I hold him and tell him we would get through this hell that is depression together? Why did I let him believe he had to fight this demon alone? He’s human just like me, he needs to know how much I care and that he’s not alone just as much as I do.

I believe Valentine’s Day is a myth. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad thing to have a day when you celebrate how much you love someone, but to only do it because society tells you to, that’s where the myth comes in. I learned a lesson I was not ready for, I did not want, but I desperately needed. I learned to love my husband. It took me nearly losing him many times to understand, and I pray you will learn from my mistakes. Love each other every day. Take time together. Put your marriage before your children; trust me, it’s the best gift you can give to your children. They will grow to understand love and to know how to love their spouse. Pray together. It is true that we never know when the last “See you later.” on this Earth will be.

After Jeremy survived five suicide attempts and the accident, we learned we had work to do. We learned the world needed to hear our story. Many need to understand there is hope even in mental illness. Our mission is to provide hope for mental health anchored in Jesus’ promise of eternal life. We will spend our lives thanking God for allowing us the chance to continue being a family. Jeremy continues to fight his depression daily, but we have learned how to take what Satan meant for evil and use it for God’s good. Read our story in “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith” by Jeremy and Bailey Koch. Follow us by liking Jeremy and Bailey Koch on Facebook. We share our life because we live a reality so similar to so many. We have found hope and healing, and we pray the same for you. We have learned to live, not just stay alive.

~ Jeremy and Bailey Koch
January 16, 2016

To 911 – “I Can’t Find My Son.”

January 13, 2016January 13, 2016 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 2 Comments

A parent’s worst nightmare. And today, I believed it had happened to me.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“Oh God! I can’t find my son. I can’t find him. He’s with another little boy. ASHER!!!”

“Okay, mam. It’s okay. Where are you?”

“I’m in Cozad. They were playing. Oh, please God. They were playing in the back yard and they’re gone. They’re gone! ASHER!!!”

“Okay. It’s okay. We’re going to help. Can you tell me your address?”

“Oh, God. I should have checked on them more. I’m not home. I’m driving around trying to…”

“It’s okay. I’m getting the police…”

“ASHER!!! WHERE ARE….OH GOD! I FOUND THEM!!! ASHER!!! I FOUND THEM!!! I’m sorry!

“Oh thank God. Okay. It’s okay mam. It’s okay. I’m so glad…”

“ASHER!!! Oh thank God!!! You get your ass in this car right now! You scared…”

I shifted my car and jumped out so fast that my van kept moving backward. Reverse. Not park. Try again. I jumped back in my moving vehicle and shifted up one more. Car stopped. I ran as fast as I could to my little boy and his friend, screaming every curse word that came to my mind, screaming at these beautiful boys covered in ditch water (where they had decided to escape for play time) that they scared us to death.

Truth be told. I did not handle today well.

Yes, we had a happy ending today. Yes, they are okay. But those 15 minutes of running around, driving around, and screaming at the top of our lungs for our six-year-old were undoubtedly the longest of my life.

I didn’t protect him. I should have checked on him more. I should have…

Every part of me truly believed someone had taken him, someone had harmed the innocent hairs on his head. Someone had my son.

The ditch. Am I looking for a body? What if he slipped and hit his head… He’s so little. We’ve talked about strangers. But would he do it? Would he get in a car with someone?

I tried to pray, but I believed so hard that someone had taken him, all I wanted to do was hurt whomever had him.

I’ll kill them. If someone hurts my baby. I’ll do it.

I can’t even believe my mind was capable of thinking this way. For 31 years of life, I have said I will act one way, I will do one thing, I will say these words, all if I were to experience what they experienced. I won’t judge someone. I could never hurt someone. I could never want another person to suffer no matter what they did.

And today, I learned the true reality of the terror of losing a child. I learned I had no control. I learned what my mind is capable, or incapable, of.

The panic overtook everything in my body. I did not think clearly. I had never had so much energy in my life. It has now been over two hours since our terrifying 15 minutes, and I still can’t calm down. But what is baffling is I can’t believe what my brain thought, what my conversation with the 911 operator consisted of, and especially what I honestly believed to be true. I thought nothing good. Everything in my brain told me the worst case scenario. And now, I sit here trying to process it all.

The fear took over every logical thought in my mind. It dominated my thinking, my prayers, even my words. I was the crazy woman who the 911 operator couldn’t understand. I was the mother who believed I had lost my son.

So now I sit here and wonder, could I forgive someone who may hurt my child? Could I be the Christian I claim to be. Could I put my fears completely on God? Could I find good in losing my child? In that moment when I believed Asher was gone, I failed miserably.

I do not know if my mind is capable of forgiving someone who would hurt my child. I do not know how my world would keep turning if I lost my child. I do not know how I would react if I ever lose my child. I do not know…

None of us know. We do not know how we would feel, how we would react, what we would do, until we experience it ourselves. And even then, it’s not the same. I learned a terrifying lesson today. It was not a wanted lesson, but I understand why it happened. I needed to be humbled again. I needed to realize I am not strong enough without my God, without support.

Most importantly, I am not in control, even of my children’s destiny.

What many of us do have in common is our faith and the fact that many of us are parents. So now I know, all I can do is pray. I can pray for my ability to be a good mother, and to behave and act with grace using His truth. I can pray God will take my parenting anxieties. I can pray God will protect my boys and give me the strength to be everything they need.

So after my lesson today…

Heavenly Father,

I pray for the strength to look to You, to look to the good before ever choosing to first believe the evil. Today, I failed at this, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t give you my fears immediately. I pray I have learned my lesson. I pray I can truly forgive as I say I will. I pray I will not judge another or believe I would know how I would react in any situation. I especially pray for your protection over my children. I pray for the opportunity for my children to outlive me. I pray for those whom have lost children, please give them peace, strength, and grace. Please surround them with people who will love them and fill them with Your truth. Please give us all the strength and peace to think of You first.

I’m not strong enough to be a parent without You. And today, I let my parenting fears overtake me.

In Jesus’ Name.

Amen.

Cozad, NE Mental Health Support Group “Anchoring Hope” Officially Began

January 5, 2016January 5, 2016 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / Leave a comment

We believe there is a time for everything, and everything has to come in His time, not ours. For years, we have wanted to begin a support group in Central Nebraska for those suffering from mental illness or supporting a loved one. We drove to Kearney on Monday nights for a long time, as Kearney had the closest support group. But we stopped going when the drive and time away from our boys started making advocating for our mental health that much harder.

But we missed it terribly. Being surrounded by others who truly understand your reality is liberating, healing, and needed.

The support group was one of the first times we truly opened up. We said it out loud…

“Hi, my name is Jeremy and I have severe depression. I have been hospitalized inpatient twice and I have attempted suicide five times. I was nearly killed in a car accident we believe was caused by a depression medication failure.”

“Hi, my name is Bailey and I’m Jeremy’s wife. Being the primary support person is hard. It’s hard not to take the symptoms personal. I also have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperativity Disorder).”

It still feels good to say it out loud, to truly own it. We laugh about our reality often. We joke that either Jeremy really sucks at trying to kill himself, or we are still here together on this Earth for a reason. It may be both.

“But finding good in this evil is our way of telling Satan to go to hell and stay there.” – from our “Depression Yesterday. Depression Today.” blog post.

So nearly seven years after the initial depression diagnosis, it’s time to advocate for mental health. It’s time to help others understand you are not alone. It’s time for us to take what we have learned and show those suffering or supporting that there is hope, that life is worth living, and that God is good, even when circumstances aren’t.

The first “Anchoring Hope” support group is officially created. And its home is right here in Central Nebraska, Cozad to be exact.

The brochure pictures below have a lot of information on them about who we are, why we want to help, and what we believe about mental health.

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We hope this is the first support group of many. We hope to expand support groups one day. But a journey of a thousand miles begins with a first step. Thank you for being a part of our first step.

If you would like to join us, please do. If you are struggling with mental illness or trying to support a loved one, please come. Please know you are not alone. Please know we are all in this together and God wants us to fight. We are stronger together.

The “Anchoring Hope” for mental health support group of Cozad will meet every Monday evening from 6:30 to 7:30 p.m. at United Way (105 East Hwy 30) just south of the 100th Meridian sign.

Be sure to like “Anchoring Hope” on Facebook to stay up to date on support group information (weather and holiday cancellations included) as well as “Jeremy & Bailey Koch: Anchoring Hope for Mental Health Ministry” to follow our personal story and journey.

We are blessed and beyond thrilled to be finally be taking another step toward doing what we know God has planned for our lives. Mental health advocacy is our passion and our purpose. You are the reason we are here and we pray we can help each other.

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We would especially like to thank United Way for providing us a place to meet free of charge; you are such a blessing to us and many. Additionally, we plan to have a middle or high school student there during meetings to provide care for children in a separate room…just another way we would like you to know your priorities are important, but advocating for your mental health keeps you around for your family. If you do bring your children, we suggest a $2.50 donation per child to the person watching kids for the hour, but of course there is absolutely no cost for attending the support group and if you cannot afford a child care donation, your mental health comes first. We understand.

Please share with anyone who you may feel would benefit from attending the “Anchoring Hope” for mental health support group in Cozad, Nebraska on Monday nights from 6:30 to 7:30 p.m. at United Way (105 East Hwy 30) just south of the 100th Meridian sign. The first meeting will take place Monday, January 11, 2016 and will continue weekly pending no weather or holidays (watch Facebook for any cancellations).

Thank you for support and God bless. We are so excited to be taking this step in our mental health ministry.

Our links:

Anchoring Hope on Facebook

Jeremy & Bailey Koch: Anchoring Hope for Mental Health Ministry on Facebook

www.jeremyandbailey.com

www.jeremyandbaileyblog.com

“Never Alone” in eBook format on Amazon

Depression Yesterday. Depression Today.

January 3, 2016January 3, 2016 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 25 Comments

Yesterday, I wanted to kill myself.

You see, I was diagnosed with severe depression in 2009. I’ve tried so many different medications, my wife and I lost count. It wasn’t until 2012, after five failed suicide attempts and a near-death car accident, when I finally told my wife about the reality of my brain.

Each suicidal thought that creeps into my brain makes me want to just end it all. “Anywhere else has got to be better than living in this hell,” my brain tells me. “My family doesn’t deserve this. They will be so much happier if I am just gone.”

Lies.

Each time I tried to kill myself, at the very last minute before I would take my last breath on this earth, I would get a vision. I always saw my boys; I am father to two young sons. Most of the time, they waved goodbye from a window as tears streaked their faces.

And that would do it.

I pressed the button on the garage door to let fresh air flow in and I gasped as the poison I had just put in my lungs began to leave me. I ripped the bag off my head just before I ran out of oxygen. I put the gun down and slammed my fists on the floor so hard my hands bruised.

But I won. In those moments, I won.

I finally told my wife about the true terror of my suicidal thoughts in a suicide note one night as she slept in September of 2012. That night was going to be the end of me on this earth. I planned how I would hang myself in our garage, just behind our back yard where our boys play with our dogs. I told my wife not to come find me, that I didn’t want her to see me that way.

I won again that night. As I typed the suicide note, I felt a demon inside of me release. I learned the power of honesty.

I just passed another year with my family. Welcome to 2016. I still have depression. I take my medication every day. I surround myself with other believers, people who are willing to admit we need each other. We are God’s army; we in all our sinful human nature are here on this earth to support each other, to love each other, to help each other understand God is good all the time no matter our circumstances. I am not strong enough to battle this demon without support.

I learned God has not forgotten me. He has been preparing me for war.

My wife and I can laugh, most days, about the reality of my suicidal thoughts. We understand now that God was beside me every time I wanted to end my life, and He was desperately trying to get my attention. I imagine Him holding my head and placing images of my sons in my mind. I imagine Him telling my grandmother to go check on me just before she knocked on our door and caused me to pull the bag off my head. I imagine Him holding the hands of the pharmacists, scientists, and doctors as they created and prescribed medications to help me with my chemical imbalance.

So the truth we have learned to embrace is the humor even in mental illness. Finding good in this evil is our way of telling Satan to go to hell and stay there.

So either I completely suck at trying to kill myself, or God has a much greater purpose for my pain. It may be both. But either way, I refuse to live my life allowing Satan to win.

So yesterday. Yesterday, I began having suicidal thoughts. I felt defeated. “Son of a bitch,” I thought. “They’re back. They were gone and now they’re back. Will this ever end? Will this ever go away completely? It had been so long since I felt this defeated. I had hope this would never happen. Now that hope is gone. I need to be gone. I need to end this. My family doesn’t deserve this.”

More lies.

So now came the hard part. For a few hours, I said nothing. I was quiet, empty. I had no hope. And then it happened, the first of God’s attempts to snap me back to His reality. My wife looked at me and said, “You’re quiet today. Are you okay?”

Before I would ignore it. I would have said I’m okay and I would have gone on to fight this beast within myself alone. I’m strong enough, right?

Wrong.

I made a choice. “I’m quiet because I haven’t been feeling well.”

“Suicidal thoughts?” She questioned.

I made another choice. “Yes.”

Did the suicidal thoughts immediately stop? No. But now I didn’t have to fight them alone. We’ve been through this before. Bailey knows what to ask. Did I have a plan for my death? No. Were the thoughts overwhelming or fleeting? Fleeting. Did I feel like there was any hope? No. Did I feel like I had been locked in a battle? Yes.

Who was going to win this battle this time? God.

When we went to bed together last night, we prayed as we always do. But our prayers this time did not center around fix me, make me better. Don’t get me wrong, we pray for that too. But I had just worked my way through a battle between good and evil in my own brain, and I did it with much greater success than I ever have. Now, our prayers center around allowing God to use us to help you. “Use this pain for Your good, Father. Help us reach others through our experiences and give them hope.”

I have information others need to know. I have a plan for defeating this demon of depression that lives inside so many. I can help those suffering from suicidal thoughts to understand there is hope, and you can win. How can I do this? Because I live this reality and I know life is worth living. I know God is here with us.

And this morning, my wife, the talented writer, woke up feeling inspired. Our prayer is being answered as you read. Will this post save lives? Will this post, this positive message of true healing, go viral over the negative posts that so often surround us on social media? Will this post be there to save lives of those who believe there is no hope? We believe in our message, our mission. We share our truth because you are loved.

Yesterday, I wanted to kill myself. Today, I live as an example that life does go on, that life is worth fighting for, and that God did not forget you. He has placed good everywhere in our lives. See Him.

I won again yesterday. I won because I have learned how to ask for help. My God, my wife, my sons, my medication, my family, my friends, my doctors, my church family, my counselor…the list goes on and on. There are so many who are willing to help. I know I am never alone.

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Our book, our very personal story, was published in May of 2015. It is there for the world. What do we have to hide? Nothing if it helps save lives. Link to purchase either the paperback or eBook at www.jeremyandbailey.com.

So today depression is there, but it did not win yesterday. Will my suicidal thoughts come back? They very well may. But they will not win. I know how to fight my illness. I know how to ask for help. I know how to live even when my brain tells me there is no hope. There is always hope.

Today, I don’t want to kill myself. Today, I celebrate another triumph. Today, I ask you to take a stand for the reality of depression with me. Today, we win because God has a plan, a mission if you will. I know my mission, and I will take the evil Satan intended to destroy me with and I will allow God to use it for His good.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.” Genesis 50:20

Today, I am alive with my family for another day. Today, depression lost.

~ Jeremy & Bailey Koch

New Year. New Me.

January 2, 2016January 2, 2016 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / Leave a comment

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

I’ve lost weight before – 65 pounds to be exact. In case any of you weren’t friends with me in 2009, I was up to 226 pounds on the day I delivered our youngest son. After having Asher, my body quickly lost 25…literally overnight. So…201 was the number. I’m on the right holding our oldest son, Hudson. I was visiting my friend, Angela, holding Asher, our youngest son.

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But it wasn’t the number that got me. It was the way I felt. It was the constant back pain, the zero energy, the self-confidence issues. Those are what mattered. It took me a while to find the motivation, but once I found it, the journey started. And I wouldn’t stop. At my best friend’s wedding in 2014, I weighed 140 pounds (actually too thin for me). I had worked my ass off. No sugar-coating that word; it’s true. I maintained a healthy weight at 150 for quite a while.

But it was almost April last year when I realized my weight was creeping up again. I had left my job as a special educator, one in which I walked miles every day around the school, and took up focus on my doctoral degree and working from home. You can imagine how much my exercise level had changed. But I kept pushing it off. I kept saying 160 is okay, I can stay there. But I changed no habits. All of the sudden, I was 170 and could stay there. But I changed no habits. Now here I am. Christmas is over and I weigh 184.6 pounds (well 180.6 since I started a couple days ago). My back hurts so freaking bad, I can’t sit on the floor and play games with my son. I have zero energy to do any physical exercise. And my body is literally falling apart. I now proudly (and embarrassingly) display scars from 5 knee surgeries and 1 ankle surgery. What would this have to do with weight, you ask? Everything. I have extremely weak joints, as do many people. But for those of us who do, muscles hold us together well…unless you’re me and you have no muscle. So I fall apart. I sublux (dislocate and immediately pop back in). It started in middle school with my knees. The ankle began in September and I have since undergone surgery there. And this just in…my shoulder began subluxing while I was in my boot for my ankle and I refused to do anything or tell anyone because it’s freaking embarrassing and ridiculous how damn clumsy I seem. In reality, while I am clumsy, I’m put together horrible. And I’m getting older. I have to do something, and I have to do it better than I ever have before.

My goal is 145 pounds, but I believe the scale lies. Today, I am 181 so I have 36 pounds to go. I don’t know what my body will be like as this is the first time I will be actively trying to gain muscle. I’m basing this more off of the mirror and how I feel. I’ve started my diet and walking on the treadmill, but I start the 21 day challenge workouts on Monday. And I will do them. And I will hate them. But after a while, the workouts will get easier. I will look at myself in the mirror and smile as I will see progress. I will notice my clothes fitting different…or fitting at all.

I’m very blessed that after 15 years, I still look at my husband and think he’s totally a hottie. I know he feels this way about me too, but I’m ready to believe him when he tells me this. So why am I sharing? Because I know there are so many of you whom have told yourself you will lose weight before. I have been doing it for a long time, but I also have lost a lot of weight before. I know it’s not easy to lose weight. I know it’s easy to put it back on. I’ve done both. Time to lose it and keep it gone. I’m ready to get healthy. Feel free to join me. And no this isn’t just another resolution nobody keeps. This is learning to live healthy. It takes time. I will falter sometimes, but I will get back up and keep going. It’s life.

What do you have to lose? I’m looking forward to losing back pain, losing my lack of energy, losing the possibilities of more surgeries, and losing my fear of full body pictures. 🙂 So it begins…

Confessions from an Outsider

November 16, 2015November 16, 2015 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 1 Comment

There are a lot of areas in life where I just don’t fit in. I’ve learned to accept this fact. When I was younger, I didn’t understand why I just didn’t seem to “get” normal social guidelines. Something in me never seemed to click and I didn’t understand why so many acted the way they did and covered up so much of who they really were just to abide by someone else’s set of expectations. I said the wrong things at the wrong times, I shared way more information than anyone often wanted to know, and I generally made people uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to see, still isn’t at times. I remember saying something and immediately regretting it because it wasn’t “okay” based upon what somebody else thought. I saw so many others acting completely different for different people; personalities adjusted to the situations. And while it works for some, and may even be necessary at times for some people, I just didn’t (and don’t) get it.

There were some people who would truly turn their backs and just walk away from me. It’s not hard to see, or even feel, an awkward hello or an eye roll. While it hurt my feelings long ago, I laugh about it now. This is me. This is who I am. And it’s okay. If someone doesn’t know how to handle my personality, I don’t believe that should be my problem. I’m annoying and odd. And I’m okay with that.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized there are so many of us “outsiders” who don’t like, or don’t know how, to play by the normal rules. And my reality now is that this is who I am, and if some don’t know how to take me, they don’t have to. It’s okay. Those who truly don’t know how to talk to or handle anything out of their comfort zones are really no different from me; we just have different comfort zones. Hiding makes me uncomfortable. I know everything about my close friends and family; I can’t handle hiding.

And now I get it. I get why I am the way I am. This “weirdness” is a God-given strength, and it got my family and I out of the hell we were living in behind the scenes. My being an outsider is the best thing that ever happened to me, but it took me years to embrace it.

Do you know how I actually started learning to accept who I am? My husband, the show “Friends”, and the song “Firecracker” by Josh Turner. Sound strange? Get used to it; not much is normal when I’m around. One day while cooking supper, I had my favorite show playing in the background. Phoebe was getting married in the snow in the street, and her soon-to-be husband said to her, “You’re so wonderfully weird.” Jeremy turned to me and said, “You know. That’s so true. You’re my Phoebe. You’re so wonderfully weird.” Jeremy loved that about me. He always loved and appreciated the me that so many made me believe I needed to cover up. I started learning to embrace my outsider status outside of our private life because he let me.

Then there was the song. Another day, a few years later, I was driving and talking on the phone with Jeremy. Over his radio, Josh Turner started singing “Firecracker.” Jeremy turned it up so I could hear. In his wonderfully off-tune voice, he sang…

“When I light the fuse I gotta get back quick.
You gotta be careful with a dynamite stick.
Son of a gun she’s fun to handle,
and she packs a punch like a roman candle.
She’s a pack of black cats in a red paper wrapper.
My little darlin’ is a Firecracker.”

And again, my confidence started to grow. Maybe being an outsider was okay. Maybe I was good enough. And I started putting it together. Jeremy had been the reason I was learning to be okay with who I am, now it was my turn to help him be okay.

Jeremy was diagnosed with severe depression in 2009; we lived a terrible secret for more than three years because he was ashamed of what his brain would do to him. Between 2009 and 2012, Jeremy attempted suicide five times. I flushed countless medications that caused his suicidal thoughts to escalate, and he was nearly killed in a head-on collision with a semi truck.

Jeremy’s truck after the accident in 2012.

But it was later in 2012, after God gave him the strength to leave the suicide note on our computer for me to read even after He saved my husband yet again, when I figured it out. Unfortunately, I found the note before I found that Jeremy was still alive; that was the most terrifying night of my life. Fortunately, Jeremy finally shared the truth, the whole truth, and began healing. I realized being open and honest is what would save my husband. I realized my outsider status may just have not been an accident.

We found true faith because of two things we believed were the worst that had ever happened to us: outsider status and depression. I remember the first time I said something about Jeremy’s depression in public. We were walking around in Menards in Kearney, Nebraska and ran into some friends. They asked what we were doing in Kearney that evening. Without thinking, I said, “Jeremy suffers from depression and our support group is here in town.”

You wouldn’t believe how fast Jeremy’s head spun toward me. He gave me this look of, “I can’t believe you just told them that.” I didn’t care. It was a God moment; He put the words in my mouth. But do you know what happened next? Our friend answered, “I have depression too. It’s so hard sometimes. What support group do you go to?”

Destiny. Support. We learned to be open in every aspect of life. It was excruciating for Jeremy at first, but it didn’t take him long to realize we were helping people. We were allowing people to be honest and open about their realities too. We were allowing God to take something meant to harm us and use it for His good.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.” Genesis 50:20 (NLT)

Now published authors, we shared our entire truth with the world. Why? Because it’s okay, and because God will use us to help people. “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith” was our destiny. We wrote, now we want to travel the country and speak to anyone and everyone who will listen or who needs to hear the truth that there is hope in mental illness, there is hope for healing, and God gives us that hope if we learn to see Him and accept His good. We share more at www.jeremyandbailey.com and post almost daily on our Jeremy and Bailey Koch Facebook page in order to continue inspiring and providing hope.

I won’t hide who I am now. I won’t be ashamed, and I won’t hold anything back. For every person I annoy or make uncomfortable, I have two more who message me or tell me thank you for making them smile today because they needed it. My husband began healing when God showed him what it felt like to be honest. So when God puts it on my heart to say something, I’m going to say it. And while it may make some uncomfortable or even annoyed now, I know those people will know they can come to me and be completely honest when they need to, when they allow themselves.

I may be an outsider. I may have been misunderstood my entire life, but there is a reason God made me the way I am. There is a reason He made you the way you are. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Learn to embrace who you are and find your reason. Be okay with you; I’m okay with you.

Be your own kind of outsider, because, let’s face it, we are all outsiders. None of us are “normal” because there is no normal. God made us so we could use who we are for His good.

Learn more about our mission and our book at www.jeremyandbailey.com. Like our Jeremy and Bailey Koch Facebook page. Thank you for your support. Thank you for allowing us to be weird.

I watched my husband cry today. I watched my husband heal today.

September 8, 2015September 8, 2015 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 8 Comments

Today has been a hard day, like, really hard. Today, I held my friend as she sobbed on my shoulder. We stood together next to her son lying peacefully in his casket. Barton was 34 years old, and we paid our final respects at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church in Holdrege, Nebraska. Barton had a good life and he was loved by many, but the challenges he faced on this earth were too great. He had hundreds of friends and family members who supported him and tried to help him in this life, but ultimately, a disease had a strong hold on Barton.

We have an amazing God, and He called Barton home to give him peace. I know with all my heart that Barton is walking with our Father because God decided he had struggled with his illness for long enough. Now comes the beautiful truth that Barton is whole again. He is at peace. I know Sherry’s faith, my friend and Barton’s mother. We shared many stories of faith, healing, and signs from God in the years we shared an office as special education teachers. So today I was heartbroken when I saw the gray skies. Just what she needs, cloudy skies, I thought. So I did what I have learned to do on so many occasions.

Heavenly Father, I know You are here with us.
I know you know Sherry and the family, so I am asking you now.
Please give them light – Your light, sunlight, light in their hearts.
Help them see through the darkness they are feeling.
Help us all see You.
In Your Son’s holy and precious name. Amen.

The pastor who spoke at this funeral withheld nothing; he discussed that those of us whom are left on this earth to try to heal without someone we loved have it the worst. Could we have done more? Would Barton have accepted help if we had shown up on his doorstep just one more time? The answer lies in understanding that we will never have answers. God places good in our lives everywhere; but we have to choose to see the good. We have to choose to live every single day. And if we can’t do that on this earth, because God sent His son for us, we can be at peace knowing that our God is all-forgiving. He is only good. And those we loved so wholly get to be whole once again.

Did you know there is no time in Heaven? When I spoke to Sherry the day after Barton passed, I shared with her what a faith mentor of mine helped me understand. I struggled when friends lost their children; I imagined that all these children in Heaven only want one thing…their parents. It’s hard to imagine a world without fear, without pain, without questions; we can’t even fathom it. So I struggled with the idea that if I lose my children, they won’t miss me? How can that be? How can my children not miss me when my heart is breaking for them?

“But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord, one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.” 2 Peter 3:8 (ESV)

And I understood. When those we love walk through Heaven’s gates and meet Jesus, they may very well ask, “Where is my mom?” And I imagine that Jesus may answer something like, She will be here any minute. There. Behind you.

Barton is okay. As I sat silent next to my husband, I watched the clouds outside the enormous picture windows part. I watched the blue sky emerge as hundreds shed tears of pain and cleansing, of forgiveness and faith, and of hope. I leaned in and told my husband what I had prayed. He answered, “I noticed that too.”

But my story doesn’t end here – I know God makes good come from every situation. And even as I sat mourning for my friend midst the loss of her son, I felt healing. More importantly, I witnessed healing on behalf of my husband, who came with me to this funeral in support of Sherry and I. But he was there for a much greater purpose, and now we understand.

Jeremy has fought illness very similar to Barton’s for years. Barton struggled with alcoholism because he didn’t understand his brain, but Jeremy has suffered from severe suicidal thoughts, often not understanding why he should have to take on such a monster within himself. The Why me? is very dangerous, but it is also very common. It is a stage of grief before acceptance of mental illness is possible. After years of battling by himself because of his refusal to let anyone in, Jeremy finally began accepting help. He finally understood that God had placed good everywhere in his life to help him see Him. He survived five suicide attempts, a near-death car accident likely caused by a medication failure, and an awful lot of medication adjustments because of meds that caused him to black out or have horrible suicidal thoughts.

It seemed like hell on earth, but do you know why he fought? He fought for us.

Jeremy is a daddy. He is a husband, a son, a brother, a son-in-law, brother-in-law, nephew, grandson, cousin, friend…everything. He is everything to many. And when we walked out of that funeral and shut the door to our van, Jeremy hung his head and sobbed.

“It was like sitting at my own funeral. It was like watching the pain left behind,” Jeremy said through tears. “That could have been me. That could have been you.”

His tears dropped one after another into his lap and I joined. We tried to console each other, but mostly we just cried together. Jeremy and I had not said a word to each other as we sat there looking through the glass at a wall of windows with enormous and breathtaking crosses towering outside, but we both felt it. I shed tears as I remembered those days not knowing if I was about to begin planning my husband’s funeral. Watching hearts break on this earth because of missing someone so desperately is torture. Even with the faith in knowing our loved ones are whole again, it is still hard. And that’s okay. We can all learn from loss. We can choose to let sadness envelop us, or we can choose to see the good.

Jeremy this afternoon.

We said goodbye today and we supported Barton’s family and friends. But God helped us heal ourselves at the same time. He let us see what it would be like to lose Jeremy to his illness, to be separated on this earth, to not follow what we completely understand to be our mission in this life. We are still here together for a reason.

We are ready to dedicate ourselves to helping others understand there is hope in mental illness. It’s okay to accept help; it doesn’t make us weak. Today, we can say that Jeremy’s depression is the best thing that ever happened to us; it led us to our faith in God and our purpose in life.

Jeremy designed the cover of our book himself as this was such a personal endeavor.

Our book, “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith”, was published this year. It tells our past story of hurt, anger, and finding faith and healing, but now we think it’s time to write more because we continue to see God at work in our lives. It’s time to keep the story moving, to explain how submitting to God’s will and embracing the past, rather than being afraid of it, continues to help us heal as we share our story – complete with tears and triumphs. We found hope and we pray we can help others find it too.

As we continued to drive home talking about our faith and our trust in knowing we are on the right path, I noticed a voice mail on my phone. Last night, I wrote a simple thank you letter to the staff and administration at Richard Young Hospital in Kearney, the place I brought my husband to on September 11, 2009 the first time he tried to take his life. I brought him there to keep him safe from himself, and it was one of the hardest days of my life. But it began our journey toward the acceptance of faith and healing. The voicemail was from a woman named Marsha at CHI Health Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney; she received our thank you and asked if we would be willing to share our story with many at the Light Up the Night walk for mental health awareness this Friday night, September 11, 2015 in Kearney. The tears continued to fall as Jeremy said the dates are not a coincidence. The walk is six years to the day from his first mental health hospitalization. And we were already signed up to attend and support others and ourselves since Jeremy’s sister demanded our presence with her; she desperately wanted to walk in support of us and in healing herself. Watching your brother live with mental illness is not easy; supporting is not easy. But Jacqui, you are an inspiration to us all and you never would take no for an answer. We love that about you. So Friday, on the six year anniversary of the first time Jeremy fought the darkness so hard, we are humbled to speak at the Light Up the Night walk for mental health awareness in Kearney.

Healing Via Walking

We had a breakthrough today as we said goodbye to Barton and supported his family and friends. Good has already come from this and I can’t imagine the peace Barton has now, it’s impossible to comprehend. Today, I watched my husband cry. I watched my husband heal. I watched my husband get truly fired up for his purpose while he is here on this earth with us.

To the family and friends of Barton, please take pride in knowing we feel Barton with us. We didn’t know him well, but we know his mother well. We know her desire to do anything to help others, and we imagine Barton is just like her cheering us on in Heaven. While a disease on earth held Barton back from being whole, he is whole again now and he is already doing amazing things. It’s time to help others. God bless you all.

Learn more about us, Jeremy and Bailey Koch, on our website. There, you can find our story and even purchase our book, “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith”, on Amazon or from us directly in paperback.

Healing Via Walking

September 7, 2015 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 1 Comment

I’ll admit it, I never really understood the point behind a bunch of people walking for a cause, no matter the purpose. For all I knew, it was about raising money, and that I understood. I believed that people wouldn’t donate unless they had something to do or to gain. I figured a walking event was the easiest thing these organizations could think of to do in order to raise needed money for therapies, finding cures, etc.; that made sense to me. So I donated, but I never walked; and I’m ashamed to admit that. Because now, I get it.

It may be about raising money, but it is also about raising hope. It is about being surrounded by others whom have fought a similar battle and won, or at least understood the pain. It is about knowing we are never alone.

We will walk this Friday, September 11, 2015…exactly six years after the first time Jeremy tried to take his life. We are healing via walking.

On September 11, 2009, I arrived home from a normal day at work; except it was anything but normal. I fought myself all day that day; I didn’t believe I should have left my husband, Jeremy, at home alone. Jeremy had been diagnosed with severe depression that past May, and he seemed to be steadily losing his passion for life. There was less light in his eyes by the day, but it was easier for me to ignore my fears and believe him when he told me he was “fine.” He wasn’t fine. But what would the world think if they knew the truth? So we both ignored it, and it tore us up. But that day, we couldn’t ignore it anymore. Jeremy had been locked in an intense battle between himself and his brain all day long. His dark thoughts almost won.

Years later, and after five suicide attempts, a near-death car accident likely caused by a medication failure, countless medications we flushed or adjusted, and a trip to California to allow Jeremy access to cutting-edge technology in order to actually see what his brain was doing to him, we are survivors. We are supporters. My husband fights depression every day, but the healing and understanding we have all found, including family, friends, and supporters, has been incredible. Jeremy’s symptoms are under control for the most part, and he readily accepts help. He understands his illness. But most importantly, Jeremy understands the fact that his illness is the best thing that ever happened to us. Depression led us to God; it led us to our purpose. Our purpose is to support and help others find the hope that we found.

I would like to share with you an excerpt from our book. We knew what we had to do, so we shared our entire truth. “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith” was published by Jacol Publishing in April of 2015.

Jeremy and I (click that link to go straight to our website and learn more) made a commitment to withhold nothing and share our reality. These words are straight from Jeremy and detail his battle with his brain on September 11, 2009. But I must warn you, this is very graphic. It is the reality of a person who suffers from suicidal thoughts. But we know that we have to share, and I want you to understand why we will walk this Friday…

It seemed to be just another day, another struggle with my depression, when our employee showed up for work. I was beyond tired of the constant battle between myself and my brain. I could feel the walls closing in; I felt so alone, but I didn’t say a word. I went through my usual routine, giving her some tasks to complete for the day, and I went inside to continue along my path of shame and self-destruction. Nobody had any idea of what truly went on inside my head or of how low I had allowed myself to fall. Bailey had left for work because I had assured her that, yes, I was “fine.”

I went into our bedroom and closed the blinds. I fell into bed and tried to sleep the pain away, but the suicidal thoughts quickly flooded in and intensified minute by minute. The thoughts broke in like water rushing through a shattered levee, “Drive into an oncoming semi truck…lay under a train…jump off the roof head-first. Just do something, fast! End this all!”

I remember thinking to myself, “You won’t go grab the shot gun in your gun closet.” It was as if a challenge happened within me. Making fun and putting myself down was, and still is, easy to do. I beat up on myself constantly; I’m my own bully. And this day would turn out to be a pretty tough fight.

I rose from bed and slowly walked over to the gun cabinet, feeling an extreme desire to stop the thoughts, no matter what it took. I understand now that a suicide attempt is not somebody’s desire to end his or her life, but rather an intense longing to live fully and completely. My grandfather’s hand-made, wooden gun cabinet was the “safe place” for me to store the three guns I have in my collection. I grabbed my black, twelve gauge, Benelli shotgun; the metal felt colder and heavier than it ever had before. I sat on the edge of the bed and remember feeling amazed I had the guts to make it this far.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I felt the extreme power of the shotgun pulsing through my hands and into my body. I placed the unloaded barrel of the gun under my chin and began shaking. I jumped up and ran to put the gun back in the cabinet. I gasped and sucked in a huge breath of oxygen, relieved for what would only be seconds. I walked out into living room and quickly closed all of the blinds; I couldn’t let anyone know what was going on in our house. I fell to my knees on the floor in the middle of the living room and pounded my fists on the carpet with the intensity of an ape. I felt unfathomable rage as I took all my frustration and fear out on the carpet. Yet, at the same time, the thoughts terrified me that I just couldn’t stop. “It’s all my fault. Snap out of it!”

The voice inside my head spoke up as I lay on the floor with tears streaming down my face. “You won’t grab a shell and load it in the gun.” I needed to stop the thoughts racing in my brain. With determination I walked back into the dark bedroom, grabbed the twelve-gauge again, and popped a shell into the empty chamber. I sat on the corner of the bed and thought about where I wanted to be found. Not wanting to end my life in the bedroom I shared with my love, I walked into the office and sat in my chair at my desk. Thoughts of Bailey and the boys entered my mind long enough for me to decide they would be better off without me. I leaned the loaded gun against my desk and distracted myself with email. This might sound like a random thought; but I know now God walked with me through this terrifying ordeal. He fought to help me see my purpose. I clicked on “compose” and started an email to Bailey. I began the email with “Come home if you can” when my eyes welled up with tears and I could no longer see the computer screen.

As I sat there, the terrifying thoughts grew louder again. “You won’t hold that gun to your head and take the safety off!” I grabbed the loaded gun, more than ready to silence the thoughts, placed it under my chin and un-latched the safety. Placing my index finger on the trigger, I closed my eyes. This was it. I still struggle with this painful memory to this day and know I will forever. As tears ran down my face, I had a vision. I saw Hudson, our oldest son, standing in the white-framed window of his daycare that morning. He waved goodbye.

I dropped the gun and fell to my knees. God had to work hard to win the battle for me that day; I wasn’t strong enough without Him. But He won. He showed me my purpose with a vision that will forever be etched in my memory.

The rest of the day is a blur. I ended up putting the safety back on, unloading the gun and placing it back in the gun case. I fought through the constant onslaught of suicidal thoughts until Bailey arrived home from school. I remember sitting on the edge of the chair with my tearful head in my hands while telling Bailey the PG version of what had happened that day. She immediately recognized I needed help and drove me through the rain to the mental health hospital in Kearney; a quiet trip that went by quickly. The long day of fighting had exhausted me and I knew I needed help.

Upon arriving at the hospital, a nurse, Bailey, and I sat in a small white room with pamphlets titled things like, “So You’ve Thought of Suicide” and “When the Voices Won’t Stop.” The nurse asked me to discuss my issues. I asked Bailey to leave the room because I wanted to protect her from the wretched truth of my day. Bailey stepped out and I unloaded the real version of what had taken place. I told the nurse I would be fine and wanted to go home, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Then it was official, they committed me. I was a danger to myself, and even I knew it. The staff began the intake process for new patients while Bailey sat, trying hard to be strong. But I still didn’t see her, not really anyway; this was all about me. This was happening to me. I felt all alone. Even though Bailey sat beside me and refused to leave my side until they made her. In removing my belt and shoelaces, I thought to myself, “What in the hell are you doing here? You don’t belong at a place like this!” I walked around in my socks and judged others in the hospital. I believed I was unique and didn’t need to be here; I was better than this.

Two of my first visitors were my dad and father-in-law. The two men rode together from home in complete support of one another and of what they wanted to do to support us. As they walked in, I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed. I looked at them and said, “I don’t belong here. The people here are crazy!” I terrified both of them with that statement. They knew I needed to be there for some serious help. My eyes had lost the light. But for now, because I got in the car when Bailey said it was time to get help, I was safe.

Jeremy is safe still. And while what you just read was not easy to live, we understand now there are many more who live it. Jeremy survived many more days similar to this before we found our hope; God never gave up on us. There are countless people who live in silence, in fear of being open about their own realities. So we will walk to show there is hope. We will walk to support Jeremy and all those living with mental illness or trying desperately to support someone or cope with the loss of someone. There is a lot of healing that comes in understanding the reality of the illness and especially in understanding that none of us are ever alone.

Our family. Jeremy, Bailey, Hudson (almost 9), and Asher (age 6), we support mental health awareness because we live the reality.

We support mental health awareness because we live the reality. Hudson (right, age almost 9) and Asher (left, age 6) know the reality of almost losing their daddy many times. The truth continues in our home; our boys will walk with us.

Please join us. Please walk with us in support of mental health awareness and suicide prevention. The very place, the safe place, I brought my husband to on that night six years ago is sponsoring this walk for hope. It is impossible to express my thanks to them. Richard Young Hospital was part of the good that God had placed in our lives to help Jeremy find hope in his illness. So on September 11, 2009, we felt defeated. But our journey toward hope and healing began. And this Friday, on September 11, 2015, exactly six years from the first time Jeremy tried to take his life, we will walk as living examples that life goes on and healing happens. We overcame battles we never asked to fight. We found hope. We found faith. We found out who we really are and why we are here on this earth. Please walk with us in Kearney on Friday, September 11, 2015.

Light Up the Night for Mental Health Awareness and Break the Stigma! Registration begins at 7:00 pm on Friday, September 11 and the walk begins at 8 at Yanney Park.

Learn more about us, Jeremy and Bailey Koch, on our website. There, you will find links to purchase a signed paperback copy of Never Alone directly from us. You can also purchase the Kindle version on Amazon. Thank you so much for your never-ending support. God bless.

Light Up the Night for Mental Health Awareness: Break the Stigma

August 11, 2015August 11, 2015 / Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / Leave a comment

Do you know where you will be one month from today? We do! And we are thrilled to ask you to join us!

We will be lighting up the night for the mental health awareness 5K walk/run on Friday, September 11th at Yanney Park in Kearney, Nebraska with registration beginning at 7:00 and the race beginning at 8:00.

The walk is put on by Richard Young Behavioral Health (CHI Health). Proceeds will go to the National Alliance for Mental Illness (NAMI) and Richard Young Fund at CHI Health Good Samaritan Foundation.

Feel free to save this image and send in for your registration!

This race comes six years to the day from the terrifying moment I first walked into Richard Young Hospital with my husband who had nearly attempted suicide earlier that day. September 11, 2009 was the first day of our journey toward hope, healing, and acceptance of our reality. Jeremy has survived because of God and the good that He placed in our lives. Richard Young Hospital is part of that good.

So here is a little background information regarding why this event is so important to us…

We have talked about it before in great detail and we will continue to work hard to help anyone suffering from an unseen illness or supporting someone suffering to get to our book. “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith” is our life, and there is no sugar coating our reality. The book is now available in both eBook and paperback format. You can purchase either here on our website using the “Purchase” tab.

We wrote our true life story detailing Jeremy’s struggles with a severe depression diagnosis, five suicide attempts, and a near-death accident likely caused by a medication failure in order to help society understand the reality of depression. We wrote it to help those suffering from suicidal thoughts or other forms of depression understand that it is okay to ask for help; in fact, it only makes you stronger. We wrote it to help you understand that mental illness is real and those suffering should never be made to feel ashamed. We wrote it to help those supporting someone suffering understand that mental illness affects many, not just the person with the diagnosis. We wrote it especially to help everyone find the hope we found in Christ. Healing can happen with the acceptance of the reality that is mental illness, with the acceptance of help from the good God has placed in all of our lives (like mental health professionals, friends, and family), and with the belief that healing can come when we put our faith in God.

We choose every day to fight mental illness. Jeremy takes his medications faithfully, visits his mental health doctors and therapists regularly, and openly expresses his reality to me, his primary support person. It is a conscious decision to live. It is a desire to provide hope to those who may be suffering like we did or attempting to support a loved one struggling. There is hope, but you have to choose to fight the illness. In order to fight, we must break the stigma attached to mental illness. Awareness is key because those suffering deserve good care, support, and the hope of healing.

The following is a post detailing our emotions the day that our book was published in March of 2015…

From Nightmare to Dream Come True

Five times…and he described every single suicide attempt in detail to me that night in late 2012. My entire body shook and I said nothing; it was obvious Jeremy needed to say everything out loud. I took it all in and tried hard not to blame myself for not knowing. But something else was happening that had nothing to do with my shock and fear; Jeremy was healing.

In 2012, months after his near-death car accident, Jeremy wrote me a suicide note on my computer and left it open on our kitchen counter. He typed out all of his thoughts and attempts, everything he had been keeping inside and fighting alone for years. It wasn’t fair to anyone. My nightmare of losing my husband was very possible, but my nightmare of losing him was nothing compared to his nightmare of losing himself. I read the note and believed he was gone. I screamed in my head and ran in every direction at 3:00 in the morning to find him, thinking I would only find his lifeless body. But instead, I found him very much alive and asleep on our couch in the living room. Our lives changed.

Jeremy and I began sharing with each other first. We began writing our nightmares…our reality. We opened up to each other about our fears and truly learned to communicate. We learned to fight this demon together. We learned to accept that there is a lot of healing that comes with being open and accepting the reality of a mental illness, of accepting help, and most importantly of accepting God. We wrote our story.

It took us a long time to see how God would take something so terrible and change it for His good. But He did. He took two bruised and beat down Christians who were undeniably angry at Him and opened our eyes to the possibility that we could do more. We could pick ourselves up off the floor and choose to see His good in every situation. We could begin to share with others and inspire hope in those who may be now where we were then. We could help society understand that mental illnesses are real and that those suffering should never be made to feel ashamed or weak. We could help those suffering understand God is always with them and there are many others who understand the struggle. We could be open. We could learn to live for God and for others all while healing ourselves too. We could find God’s good even in something so terrible.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.” Genesis 50:20

We began writing to heal ourselves; it was therapy for us. But God revealed our purpose as we wrote. We learned He wanted us to share, to help others come to Him and see His good. So we kept writing. And today, our nightmare became a dream come true.

The tears won’t stop; they are as abundant as before, only very different. These are happy tears…tears of healing, peace, and strength. They are no longer tears of terror. We have been working on this book for over three years. We are finally published authors and our book is ready for the world. We want everyone to know and we won’t hold back. The lives of those suffering are worth us sharing our reality. God is good, and Jeremy is still here for a reason. Maybe you are that reason. You are never alone.

“Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith” is now available in both eBook and paperback format. You can purchase either here on our website using the “Purchase” tab. Thank you for supporting us as we share and helping us help others. God bless you all.

~ Jeremy and Bailey Koch

You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people. Genesis 50:20

www.jeremyandbailey.com

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You can also follow our blog at http://jeremyandbaileyblog.com

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