Seven years ago, after dealing with various degrees of Depression for about a year, I was laying on my bed unable to move and completely overwhelmed with hopelessness. I was experiencing the awful truth of the adage ‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick‘ and wrote the following:

 I feel hollow. All I can feel is my heart beating and I just want it to stop.

Today, despite dreading the wetness and jumpsuits and the wetness of the jumpsuits, I went to the temple for the first time in eight years. My endowed friend graciously agreed to join me at 6:30am on a Tuesday, which was important as I am not at my best in the morning and I don’t love the fact that I am twice as old as many of the others who have limited-use recommends (also known as the 12 year-old recommend). My best intentions would not have been enough to get me there without knowing a friend was making that effort for me. The baptistery was almost empty, but full of temple workers, so we moved through the baptisms and confirmations quickly without much time to sit and think. Thankfully, after we were done we were able to sit in the chapel for a few minutes where I experienced a familiar sensation.

All I could feel was my heart beating. But in this case it wasn’t a hollow feeling, and I wasn’t wishing for relief. My heart felt full, a cliche but the only accurate description I can come up with. 

Today I called to remembrance my song in the night of Depression, and was amazed at the difference I felt in communing with mine own heart.