depression

      I was serving as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and was not having too good of a time. I was trying to excel in the things I could, but the tasks I couldn't do well REALLY weighed me down; I became measurably depressed. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how fervently I prayed, I started realizing I just wasn't meant to succeed. Surely, God would help! 

      My depression was getting so that I didn't even want to wake each morning, let alone get out and work. I couldn't go home, though; a mission for young men is a two-year commitment. As I considered returning home early - and the stigma that comes with it - I became even more depressed. Suicide entered my thoughts. My mission leaders helped me decide to return home to get help.

      Weeks after I returned home. Still distraught, my mom had learned about Larry and had invited him to our home to assess my issues. He asked about my depression and a number of other things, and my mind reeled when he asked about whether or not I was a poor reader. When I answered, "I have dyslexia," his whole countenance changed. 

      "What type?" he asked. 

      I explained to him what happened to words on a page when I read - that they swirled around and it was like looking down though the eye of a storm. He answered back, "How depressed would you be if you were no longer dyslexic?"

      Eight hours. I'm no longer depressed. 

      Eight hours. I no longer have debilitating dyslexia. 

      Eight hours is all it took for my whole world to change. It's been years since that incredible day. I went to college, got married and now work as a Computer Programmer - a job that I enjoy immensely and that involves a LOT of reading 😂. 

      The dyslexia, the depression and the suicidal thoughts are a thing of the past. For which, I'm eternally grateful!