I’m going to take a brief pause from my typical Wordy Wednesday posts to talk about a special anniversary that happened exactly six years ago:

The day I entered the MTC.

I sort of remember that day – not as clearly as I’d like. But I remember the cool fall air, walking the Provo Temple grounds with my parents, and the anticipation of finally, after nine years of preparation, starting my mission. I felt ready.

And then the horror that filled me when I got to my MTC classroom and heard my teachers talking to me in rapid-fire Spanish.

I need to leave, I thought in a panic. This was a mistake. I can’t do this. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and chase down my parents’ rented car.

That was my first indication that I was in over my head, that this wasn’t going to be easy.

I think I knew then that I had begun something that would change my life, but I didn’t exactly understand how it would impact me. The moment I stepped onto that MTC pavement and started walking to my room, I was leaving behind a life of being timid, uncertain, and believing I wasn’t worth anything. I was walking into an 18-month period that would start molding me and shaping me into the person I am today.

My mission was really the first time I had to come face-to-face with my depression. It was the first time I really had to admit to myself I am depressed. And it was the first time I rubbed shoulders with people who not only didn’t understand, but were not equipped to dealing with depression. They didn’t take the time to validate how I felt. Instead, I was told over and over that I was wrong – I was wrong to feel the way I did, that I had no right as a missionary to be depressed, that it essentially wasn’t allowed.

I broke on my mission. I mentally collapsed and had no one there for me. I felt what it truly means to be alone. I know what it’s like to sob uncontrollably because you feel like you can’t leave that dark place. I know what it’s like to want to scream out for help but know that no one will come to help. I know what it’s like for people to think you are weak and incapable to rise above.

October 10th, the day I entered the MTC, is also World Mental Health Day. I find comfort in that. I battled my mental health issues every day for 18 months and now I’m preparing to work in that field so I can be the light to others that I never received when I needed it most.

Though I can never say my mission was the best 18 months of my life, I cherish it. I love my mission and all of its hardships and miracles. There are so many things I wish I could do over. I can’t wait to serve another mission and, maybe, do things right this time.

More than anything, I’m grateful how my mission changed me. I’m thankful that I became more humble, more open, more willing to listen to others. I’m glad my heart was softened. It was hard, but I survived.

The hymn “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go” is typically thought of as a missionary song, but it means so much more to me now. I think of it as a guiding anthem for my life.