faith

I saw Jesus.

/ Anchoring Hope for Mental Health / 1 Comment

They say He meets us at our worst…that He’s made strong in our weakness.

But we have to let Him.

For three years, I tried to be the reason my husband was okay. With constant suicidal thoughts, and more attempts than I knew about, Jeremy lived in a dark and terrifying brain. I knew some of his pain, but he had made it clear to me he didn’t want the world to know his reality.

So we lived in silence. Sometimes communicating. Mostly ignoring.

But to the world, we were the perfect couple. High-school sweethearts who had it all together. Two kids. A home. College grads both in careers we loved. Side note…did you know mental illness doesn’t care about all that?

Loneliness was all I knew. Independence was what I thrived on. My husband’s mental illness caused him to physically and emotionally check out, detach from the world…detach from us. I was a solo parent. Most mornings, I got our boys up, fed, ready for the day, and off to daycare without even seeing Jeremy. If he was sleeping, and I could tell he was still breathing, that was a win. If he came out of the bedroom to say goodbye to the boys, I actually worried more.

Was this him accepting suicide as his fate? Was he saying goodbye to us for good?

Turns out, on February 16, 2012, he was doing just that.

Jeremy, in suicide attempt number four, drove directly into a semi truck on the highway. No, I didn’t know how many attempts he had before that. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure this was that. Or…I didn’t want to know that truth. This was the first time I saw him…

Severely broken. This time, not only mentally. Jeremy’s leg was shattered, his femur protruding from his upper hip. His punctured lung, fractured pancreas, brain bleed, and severe colon trauma called for a medically-induced coma and for the machines to do the living for him. I remember looking at my husband in this state wondering if this was the most alive he’d felt in years…trapped in a brain that wanted nothing more than for him to die.

Under that hospital gown, Jeremy’s abdomen was open…covered by nothing more than what I assumed to be grocery store saran wrap. The surgeons assured me this was completely safe; they simply needed to be able to intervene faster than closing and reopening his abdomen over and over would allow. And it was now, the fourth surgery on February 19, 2012, that would prove to be more than I could handle alone.

We had family and friends who knew little of our reality. They knew Jeremy had Depression, some even knew he had had an inpatient mental health hospital stay, but they had no idea of the severity of his condition. And here they sat with me, lights flickering in a dark waiting room of Creighton University Medical Center in Omaha, waiting for the surgeon to explain how this most crucial surgery would go.

“Short surgery…good,” Dr. Forse explained. “That will mean the body is healing itself. A couple hours would be ideal; I should be able to tell by then if I’ll need to intervene more. But a long surgery is a bad sign; we want the body, not me, to do most of the work.”

And his disappeared behind steel doors, followed closely by six eager surgical interns. I remember imagining that Dr. McDreamy was back there somewhere, and everything would have to be okay then.

I felt more alone in that moment than I ever had. Surrounded by friends and family, I saw nothing but the absence of my husband’s surgeon, a man who now held my husband’s life in his hands. And I lost it…finally.

I screamed at God. With every negative word I could come up with, I cursed Him. “WHY?! WHY HIM? WHAT HAVE WE DONE TO DESERVE THIS?! FUCK YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

Everything in my body released three years of frustration, sadness, loneliness, and confusion in one fit of anger, and I directed it at the One I needed desperately, but refused to see. When my sobs ultimately ceased, and I lifted my head to see the family who had desperately tried to support us for years, there was only One I saw.

There, on a chair in front of my crumpled body on the floor, sat my sister-in-law…nineteen years young, her face soaked with tears. The sadness was palpable. But as my teary vision cleared up, I realized that the tear-soaked face I was looking at was not Jacqui…it was Jesus.

My Light in the darkness. I saw Jesus. And He wasn’t laughing…taking pleasure in the terror and anger I was living in as I felt He must have been.

He was destroyed…His face streaked with tears knowing how badly His daughter needed her Father. But she wouldn’t turn to Him. She refused to submit. She dismissed His attempts to help her see Him. She continued to live a lonely existence.

I understood in that moment. Jesus hated this for me.

I saw Jesus. He showed Himself to me in my weakest moment. On February 19, 2012, on my knees in a surgical waiting room, I gave my life to Christ.

Remember I said a two-hour surgery would be a good sign?

Dr. Forse walked back through those steel doors 45 minutes later.

My husband’s broken body was healing itself, and this surgeon had no explanation.

But I knew.

March 2012
February 2022

Follow our journey with mental illness, a daily reality we continue to manage, @anchoringhopeformentalhealth on Facebook and Instagram. Now we live.

  • Jeremy & Bailey Koch (Hudson and Asher)

I Prayed For My Husband To Die

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*** Trigger warning: mental illness and suicide. But also hope after hell. ***

Surrendering to God’s will looks a lot different than you might think. 

I never thought this would be possible. You know…watching my husband walk alongside his teen and pre-teen sons. I thought I would be telling these boys stories of how much their father loved them. Of how much he wanted to watch them grow up, but mental illness just wouldn’t let him. 

I fought for years to try and be the reason my husband was alive. To control his journey. To force ignorance and fake smiles. To stay awake and vigilant so as to never leave him alone…for fear suicide would claim him once and for all. But I reached a point of loss. Loss of myself. Loss of my marriage as I had known it. Loss of all joy. Loss of all hope. 

I remember yelling…screaming at God for giving this mental illness, this hell, to my husband. I cried and fell to my knees in agony. Looking back, I can see it was a moment of complete surrender. 

In that moment, I prayed for my husband to die. Suicide had to be the only answer…that’s what my husband’s brain thought. Maybe he was right. So I did it. I prayed to God to take my husband…to release him from the pain, no…the agony, of the hell he lived on this earth. I didn’t want him to suffer. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve these relentless suicidal thoughts.

I prayed for my “Plan B,” because my Plan A clearly wasn’t happening. I would be okay without my husband. I knew I would be okay. I would raise our boys to know and love their father…the man he was before mental illness took over. For the first time in years, I felt at peace.

I imagined Hudson’s birthday party. Our son was only 4 at that time, but I imagined his 13th birthday. I knelt down next to him as he forced a smile glowing behind 13 burning candles. “I just wish dad could be here, mom.” 

“I know, baby.” I would say. “He wanted to be here too.” I would hug him and tell him how proud his father would be of the man he was becoming. I knew how I would handle every conversation. I couldn’t control my husband’s mental illness, but I could control how I would raise our boys after my husband would pass. 

I surrendered to His will. All I had been doing was fight Him. All I had been doing was trying to control. So I gave in. God’s will had to be for my husband to die. Why else would we be living this? I let go and allowed God to move us. I was ready. I was exhausted. I was done.

I know now that as I prayed for my husband to die, God rejoiced.

God moved us so far beyond where I thought he was going to move us that it took me years to figure out my prayers for my husband’s death were prayers of surrender. I didn’t want my husband to die; I wanted him to be healed. And in my brain, healing could only take place in death…because mental illness had tricked my brain too.

In my heart, I wanted my husband back…but more, I wanted to be held by my Father.

Thank God, He heard the prayer of my heart and not of my brain. And He blessed us more than we ever could have imagined. He turned our story of tragedy into a story of hope. He worked on our hearts for years…that one day we would be willing to share our journey. From start to finish and everything in between. From avoidance and terror to the acceptance of help and healing.

That’s my husband in the photo. And that boy on the left with his hands in his pockets…he’s 14. And his dad was there for his 13th birthday, in mind and in body.

God can’t move unless we let Him. And when we let Him…oh wow. Just wait for the lights to light up the darkness brighter than you ever imagined.

*** If you are experiencing any of the feelings described in this post…loss of hope or the desire to end life on this earth, please know there is hope. We have been there and it can get better with the acceptance of help. Please reach out to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255, contact a counselor (we are big believers in talk therapy and continue to this day), contact a doctor (yes, we do take medications daily…not everyone needs to, but that needs to be a conversation between you and your doctor), or even go to the emergency room or nearest mental health facility if you don’t feel safe. Tell someone. You’re not alone and you are so very loved by Him. Why else would these words have made their way to you today? Who do you think may be trying to get your attention? Trust Him. Accept help.

Mental Illness is NOT an Excuse

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Hi there.

I’m about to strike a nerve in the world of mental illness. And you know what? I’m already not sorry. Because here comes the firecracker in me…

So what do I know about mental illness? Quite a bit actually. We’ll start with the professional…I’m finishing up my doctorate degree in Special Education. I’ve studied the brain, learning, disabilities, and yes, mental illness as it relates to learning. And I’m not done; I love education. I believe in its importance.

Answers come with education, and I was DESPERATE to understand what my husband was going through.

So it’s time to move onto the personal experience…my husband, Jeremy, is a five-time suicide attempt survivor. He has held a bag over his head until his grandma knocked on the door and he pulled it off – just before he lost consciousness. He has locked himself in a garage with an engine running and dashed to open the door when the fumes started burning his lungs because he got a vision of our two sons waving goodbye. It terrified him. He has put a gun to his head and thankfully didn’t pull the trigger thanks to another vision. And he has been in a car accident that nearly claimed his life in which he drove into a semi-truck at highway speeds.

And he’s still here. I thank God every day he’s still here.

But we believe there’s a reason Jeremy is still alive; and part of that reason is to be advocates for mental health. A huge part. What am I saying? That’s it…all of it. It is our personal calling to spread the truth. So there are two parts to mental illness we need you to understand…

  1. MENTAL ILLNESSES ARE REAL. AND A REAL PAIN.We get it. We 100% get it. It is hard to deal with a mental illness of any kind. Some days, even getting out of bed is challenge. Some days, the colors of the world just seem dull. Some days, the light is too bright, people talk too loud or too much about things you don’t want to hear, and others just don’t get it. Some days, it’s easier to cancel that counseling appointment. Some days, it’s easier to not take the medication the doctor prescribed. Some days, it’s easier to just stay away from everyone.

    And worse…

    Some days, alcohol or cutting seem to feel better than reality. And some days, it seems like the best idea is to just end it all. You think you’re a burden, right? You think the world will be better off without you?

    Guess what? Your brain is messing with you. It’s not your fault, but it’s also not okay.

    Am I right? Did I say something above that sounded familiar. Then you have a mental illness. It is what it is. We deal with it too, that’s why we get it and why so much of what I just wrote sounds familiar. We do understand you. You’re not alone.

    So onto my most important point…

  2. MENTAL ILLNESSES WILL NOT GO AWAY WITHOUT A FIGHT.Here’s where I may strike a nerve.

    There’s a reason I wrote “some days” above. Because I know the truth of mental illness. I know where it starts and how it progresses. I know how it goes from fleeting thoughts… What if I just drive my car off the road?

    Wait…what the heck was that? I would never do that. Too many people love me.

    …back into what we call “moments of clarity.” You wonder where those thoughts came from or why you would think them. You wonder if that’s normal? Sometimes you even try to convince yourself that it is (stop it).

    IT IS THE MOMENTS OF CLARITY THAT WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE.

    It is then, after you’ve experienced suicidal thoughts or even a profound feeling of sadness, mania, etc., and you come back to being yourself, that you NEED TO ASK FOR HELP.

    And if there are “triggers” around you, you need to learn how to deal with those. You need to accept help to the point where you are okay…truly okay. You need to learn how to reach out to your support system when you do experience those triggers. And it is absolutely possible, but it takes help from many around you. You are not alone, nor are you be expected to be.

    There is nothing…NOTHING…noble about trying to fight mental illness alone. No matter who you are. No matter what your support system consists of. We all have a support system in some way. This can consist of family, friends, counselors, doctors, nurses, churches, pastors, teachers, waitresses, librarians, meter readers…see where I’m going with this.

    I couldn’t care less who you tell. You just need to learn to say it.

    “I think my brain is lying to me. And I think I need help before it gets worse.”

    Now that’s noble.

    Mental illness is not an excuse; it’s a reason to fight harder.

    Accept help. FIGHT. And it will get better.

~ Jeremy & Bailey Koch

Purchase our books and find more about us at www.jeremyandbailey.com
Follow our journey on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jeremyandbailey/
@jeremyandbailey on Instagram & Twitter

 

What does an “Anchoring Hope” support group meeting consist of?

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The “Anchoring Hope” support group of Cozad began in January of 2016. For the very first meeting, we had four people (including Jeremy and I). Steadily over the weeks of meetings, more and more people have joined our discussions. So now, the most common questions we are asked include:

“Who attends Anchoring Hope?”
“Is Anchoring Hope the right place for me?”
“What does an Anchoring Hope support group meeting consist of?”
“Is there a charge to attend Anchoring Hope?
“How do I stay up-to-date on meetings and any changes for Anchoring Hope?”

So I’ll start to answer your questions by telling you a bit about us. Jeremy and I (Bailey) have been together for over 15 years and have been through a lot…like A LOT. In 2009, Jeremy was diagnosed with severe depression. Since then, he has survived five suicide attempts, multiple medication failures causing him to be hospitalized in Richard Young Hospital (an inpatient mental health facility in Kearney) three times, and a near-death car accident. We have learned to find humor in our reality. Why? We tried it the other way and it didn’t work. We have learned to embrace the crazy (Haha…get it? Cause society would love to believe Jeremy’s just crazy rather than having a legitimate brain disability?). And most importantly, we have learned that we are still here on this earth together for a reason – to help others who struggle to understand mental illness the way we once did. We share our reality to help you; God has made it very clear to us that we have work to do in order to help you understand you are never alone.

Anyone is welcome to join us at Anchoring Hope. We meet every Monday evening from 6:30 to 7:30 at United Way in Cozad, 105 East Highway 30 (the train station).

Why be silent? We all have a reality.

Now let’s officially answer your questions:

“Who attends Anchoring Hope?”

At Anchoring Hope, you can find those who struggle with mental illness themselves, others who support loved ones struggling, some who just want to understand mental illness on a deeper level, and ones whom are suffering from the loss of a loved one to suicide. We often have individuals who visit from the healthcare field in order to get a better view of how to help their patients with mental illness and we welcome them in to our discussions as well. We have some whom have struggled with alcohol, drug abuse, or self-harm because of many of life’s difficulties, from mental illness to hardships. In short, all are welcome and none are exempt.

“Is Anchoring Hope the right place for me?”

From depression, bi-polar disorder, and schizophrenia to alcoholism, grief, and the quest for understanding, you have a seat at Anchoring Hope.

“What does an Anchoring Hope support group meeting consist of?”

When you attend an Anchoring Hope meeting, you’ll be greeted by Jeremy and/or Bailey. While we try to both attend weekly, sometimes life happens, but you’ll at least get one of us. The most important thing to understand is that Anchoring Hope is literally just a place to get together and talk. We usually start by sharing a little bit about ourselves. For example, I would share that I am Jeremy’s primary support person and I also struggle with control issues and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) as well as Celiac Disease. Jeremy would share that he is diagnosed with severe depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), sleep apnea, and Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) and has survived multiple suicide attempts, hospitalizations, and (this just in) a paranoid schizophrenia episode. But remember Jeremy and I have grown very comfortable with sharing our reality; we also remember what it was like to not be so comfortable with it. You only have to share what you are comfortable sharing. You do not have to say a word if you are first just wanting to take it all in. In time, your comfort level with adjust. You will learn to understand we have a safe and nonjudgmental environment at Anchoring Hope. You will learn to understand your feelings, experiences, diagnoses, etc. are all very real and very okay. You will learn to be open, but it takes time. We will never push you to share anything and we will never share your name or information with anyone. Trust is key at Anchoring Hope. We just talk. As conversations continue, it’s always easy to tell who needs to talk more that week. At the end of the hour, we share what we are most looking forward to that week. It’s important to end on a positive note, and I never let that one slide. There is always, Always, ALWAYS something to be thankful for…something good.

“Is there a charge to attend Anchoring Hope?”

No. Jeremy and I began this mission out of a desire to help others who may be struggling the way we once did. I wouldn’t pay to talk about stuff I used to not want to talk about. Why should you? Additionally, we are extremely blessed by United Way as they have allowed us their facility to use as a meeting place weekly free of charge. We meet because we care about you, plain and simple.

“How do I stay up-to-date on meetings and any changes for Anchoring Hope?”

Like our Facebook pages. I’m much better at putting everything on “Jeremy & Bailey Koch: Anchoring Hope for Mental Health Ministry” than anywhere else. Also like “Anchoring Hope” specifically for group information. If we have to cancel a meeting due to weather or any other reason, you’ll find that info on both of those pages. But you can pretty much count on the fact that we will meet every Monday evening from 6:30 to 7:30 in Cozad at United Way. Join us.

You can find more information about us on our website at www.jeremyandbailey.com. On that site, you can also link to purchase our book, “Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith,” in eBook on Amazon or in paperback directly from us. Follow our blog here at www.jeremyandbaileyblog.com. I write randomly and about whatever I want so I hope you enjoy it; it’s my own therapy.

We would love to welcome you to our Anchoring Hope meetings. As always, please do not hesitate to message us on Facebook or email us at jeremyandbaileykoch@yahoo.com if you have any questions at all. Remember, Anchoring Hope meets every Monday from 6:30 to 7:30 at United Way in Cozad, 105 East Highway 30 (the train station).

What Makes a Strong Man?

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I see these “relationship goals” all over the Internet. Pictures of men carrying their women or even bench-pressing them. Pictures of “the perfect date” when you come walking in to a room filled with roses and your man is some high-paid financial wonder. Well, nothing against your relationship goals, but after 15 1/2 years together with the love of my life, I can tell you my true prayer for your relationship.

I pray you find a man who loves God first and you second. I pray you find a man who loves you and his purpose so much that he will fight every single day just to be here with you on this earth. That’s it. That’s all. Relationship goals.

I sit here next to my husband in the hospital today; we’ve been here a lot. To be honest, it never gets any easier. But the reality is that we understand God is good, even when circumstances are not. We are so unbelievably blessed; we found our mission in life and we get to fight for our purpose every single day. We are Christian co-authors and motivational speakers, and our mission is to provide hope for mental health anchored in Jesus’ promise of eternal life. Why? Because we know what it feels like to not have any hope and to not understand why God allowed so much hurt.

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“Never Alone: A Husband and Wife’s Journey with Depression and Faith” was just a first step toward our mission. We began by sharing our story, our reality, struggles, fears, triumphs…truth.

Finding our mission has been far from easy. But to truly understand the truth that by sharing our reality with the world, we are helping many find hope in Christ…does it get any better than that? We don’t think so.

So here we are. Jeremy is stuck in the hospital with an NG (nasogastric) tube shoved up his nose, through his esophagus, and down into his stomach. The tube intermittently empties the contents of the stomach to allow the intestines and stomach to rest and heal. Truth be told, the tube sucks (pun intended). Jeremy’s nose and throat hurt horribly, but his stomach pain has decreased from a pain level 7 down to a 1. So the NG tube is doing its job. And this hospital stay is a direct result of a previous month hospital stay. Like I said, we’ve been here a lot.

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Jeremy’s truck after the accident in 2012.

In 2012, Jeremy was in a near-fatal car accident when his truck went head-on into a semi truck at highway speeds. Throughout the healing process, my husband underwent two flight for life helicopter rides on to larger hospitals equipped to handle his injuries, a leg severely broken in four places and repaired with metal rods, a punctured lung, brain bleed, and fractured pancreas. But the surgery causing the issues now was the complete colon reconstruction he endured. Doctors had to take his intestines apart, cut out all the bad, and piece them back together like a jigsaw puzzle. There was a lot of surgical intervention needed there. I never met anyone during that time of our lives who understood how on earth Jeremy could survive that accident…surgeons included.

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Jeremy in ICU, February 17, 2012.

We get it now.

Because you know what? This wasn’t the first of our struggles. Jeremy was diagnosed with severe depression in 2009. He has survived five suicide attempts, the near-death car accident, multiple medication failures, and a heart attack the day before he turned 33. Most importantly, Jeremy has survived to understand there is hope even when it feels all is lost, even when you are fighting your hardest against your own body just to stay alive, even when life just seems to keep beating you down to the ground.

You get the freak back up. You fight back. Because this life is worth living. Helping others who suffer to understand there is hope is an enormous push for us to keep sharing, keep healing, keep fighting. Every day.

So this is my husband right now…

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The scar tissue from his previous surgeries has built up and caused a bowel obstruction. He is in a tremendous amount of pain. His NG tube is doing its job (allowing the stomach and intestines to rest), but having a tube shoved up your nose, down your esophagus, and into your stomach is anything but pleasant. It’s especially lovely because the tube is clear and Jeremy can see the junk going out from the suction. Yummy. Perhaps you can’t see our invention in the picture? Jeremy’s tube right by his nose where his eyes can see the crud moving is now covered with a handy-dandy gum wrapper and tape. Problem solved. But no, he’s not enjoying it. No, he’s not super pumped to be going through yet another trial. Yes, he knows it’s temporary. But sometimes life just plain sucks.

The reality is we are likely not done with this fight. We are likely not done with hospital stays and surgeries to remove scar tissue and build-up. Jeremy heals; and he does it really well. He is currently over-healing. The scar tissue in his intestines has created a belt and is not allowing anything through. Over time, it will get to the point where he will need surgery again to remove that portion of his bowel. It may be now…we don’t know yet. Surgeons referred to him as the “patchwork colon man” because of how much surgery was needed to repair the damage from the accident. It’s a part of our life, and it’s not easy. Depression is a part of our life, and it’s not easy. Suicidal thoughts and attempts are a part of our life, and it’s not easy. Knee and ankle surgeries (those are me) are a part of our life, and it’s not easy. Possible complications from previous surgeries (like now) are a part of our life, and it’s not easy. Heart attacks are a part of our life, and it’s not easy.

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Yep. On July 4, 2015, Jeremy had a heart attack at age 32 and 364 days. That challenge revealed a heart spasm now controlled with daily heart medication.

Life is not easy…for anyone. We all have different challenges, different battles we are fighting. The key is to understand it is a heck of a lot easier to get through them when you accept help, accept support and prayers from those who love you, and accept the reality that God is good all the time. He will take what was meant to harm and He will make it work 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

This, too, shall pass. Jeremy will heal. We are so blessed to understand this is just another bump in the road. We can help so many, ourselves included. God has entrusted us with an incredible gift, with an incredible mission. We know Jesus. We have a relationship with God. We will spend eternity with our King, and we want to help as many as possible understand what we know to be true.

God is real. There is hope. You have a purpose. Life is not easy, but it is worth the fight. Healing happens. While we are here, though, we have to fight. We have to choose to see Him when surrounded by darkness. We have to fight to see the light.

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This is a strong man, ladies. This is a man who loves God so much that he fights every day to continue his mission on this earth before eternity begins. This is a man who works his butt off to provide for his family. This is a man who is allowed to struggle, allowed to need help, allowed to be angry that life isn’t easy all the time. Why? Because this is also a man who is man enough to understand he needs help. He needs God. He needs support and prayers. He needs hope…and hope he has found in Christ. THIS is strong. My relationship goals consist of this and only this. I would not change a thing.

Our struggles are what brought us to the true understanding that we are never alone. Pain and frustration are eased with trials when we learn to give everything to God, ask for prayers, and accept help.

I’ll leave you with this…

I want you to imagine a rope. You are holding one end of this rope with your fist. You are hanging on for dear life and you cannot see the end of this rope. There is no end. It goes on forever. You look toward where you believe the end of the rope should be and all you can see is that the rope continues far off into an orange and yellow sunset. It continues far beyond our human potential allows us to see…eternity. Now slowly loosen your grip and look at this tiny part of the rope you hold in your hand. This part of the rope is your time on earth. It is such a tiny, insignificant piece of the rope, yet it consumes us. Loosen your grip and allow Him to control this part of your life, too.

Choose to consume yourself with the rest of the rope. Choose to understand this is our time to fight, but the fight is more than worth the reward…eternity.

Purchase our book either in eBook format on Amazon or directly from us in paperback at www.jeremyandbailey.com. Follow our daily journey by liking Jeremy & Bailey Koch on Facebook. As always, thank you so much for your never-ending support. God bless.

To 911 – “I Can’t Find My Son.”

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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.

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

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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.

/ 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.

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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

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

/ 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.

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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 today.

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.

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

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.

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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

/ 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.

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.

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

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.

Healing Via Walking

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.