This is the first time in my life that I have publicly shared my story. Only a handful of people know it, mostly family, but I am convinced that God has been preparing me for this exact moment here with you today.

My journey with Jesus began at a very young age and I’m so blessed to not remember a time without Him. The spring of my freshman year in H.S. my family moved from PA to FL where I completed High School.

After graduating I felt the Lord calling me to switch from my declared communications major to music. Wouldn’t it happen that the new head of vocal studies at FGCU moved in right across the street from where I lived!? She was influential in recruiting me for the new music program and so began the whirlwind that is being a Music Major.

I was the underdog from day one, with no past voice or piano lessons and surrounded by colleagues classically trained since age 5. According to Berklee College of Music, the national dropout rate for first year music students is just under 30% and I witnessed this statistic. I remember being so sick of music, almost giving up multiple times because it was so difficult.

Not even halfway into my first year, I began feeling dizzy all the time. After multiple doctor visits, none could figure out the problem. The floor seemed to be moving up and down, and my ears would randomly make super loud noises. I began having trouble walking without holding onto someones arm, let alone driving by myself. It affected my singing lessons and at one point I was told that my condition might prevent me from pursuing a music degree. Meniers disease was ruled out after two awful tests where I was blindfolded while they poured warm water into my ears to induce dizziness and test my equilibrium.

The stresses of not feeling well 90% the time while being a first year music student sent me over the edge. Driving home from a dinner date with my boyfriend now husband Jonathan, completely out of the blue, I felt shortness of breath, racing heartbeat, spinning vision and uncontrollable shaking in my legs. I thought I was about to die. Jonathan called my mom, who just left for Publix but immediately turned around. As soon as she was in arms reach I grabbed onto her for dear life, so afraid that I thought my eyes might rupture right out of my head. I sobbed “Help me, Jesus! Jesus help me!” My mom held me tightly saying, “I’ve got you, Katy, I’m not letting go. I think you’re having a panic attack.”

This was the first of many, and coupled with my other systems made my condition plainly obvious to my doctor. At 19 I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder which had escalated into full blown depression as well.

At first I felt ashamed to have this struggle as a Christian. It was frustrating and confusing to have known Jesus my whole life, never doubting that he was in control, but somehow having a body that reacted in opposition to the truths I so strongly believed.

It became my deepest secret, and even in this moment, it would be easier for me to tell you that I had diabetes or a thyroid condition vs. a mental illness.

Anxiety and depression can certainly be helped with counseling and God’s word, but for some like me it requires medication too. Taking medicine was a humbling surrender to something outside of my control and I ended up exercising more faith in taking it than not. I learned that true faith in God is absent of strings attached to my own confidences; my confidence must simply rest in Him. I no longer mistake medication as weakness, but a tool that God has equipped me with to best serve my family, friends and others for His glory. I rather be dependent on Jesus via His blessing of medicine, than trying to do it all on my own, ultimately glorifying myself and not Him.

I ended up graduating with my degree in Music Education in 4 years and somehow in the top of my class. God worked a miracle in not only getting me through the program, but surpassing my wildest expectations for success, all in spite of my unstable health. I began to learn that God wants his children to rest in Him alone, to not rely on their own strengths but on His perfect strength. 2 Corinthians 12: 9 “My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

In summer of 2011 right after graduating, I married my High School sweetheart, moved out of my parents house for the first time and acquired my first job teaching music at a public elementary school in Lehigh Acres. That fall over 700 students began rotating through my classroom, and while I was prepared to teach all things music, I was unequipped to deal with the extreme behavior issues plaguing the student body. Their parents were in jail, fourth graders were bringing knives to school and some were so violent that an adult was paired with them at all times. At times I even felt afraid for my own safety and after only two months I resigned for health reasons, feeling like such a failure.

My alternate plan was Barefoot Saturday, the new acoustic duet that I started with a buddy from High School. After just releasing our 5 song EP, we acquired an offer from a producer based in Los Angeles whose clientele included those such as Jason Mraz. The offer to produce our first album was beyond exciting, and I was devastated when my friend bowed out to pursue a career in law enforcement. I began to wonder what my purpose in this life would be and which path I was supposed to take.

My breakthrough finally happened on a cruise with Jonathan and some friends. At an evening karaoke session, I happened to perform a hymn. As I was singing, (I need Thee oh I need Thee, every hour I need Thee) the lyrics pierced my spirit, and I became overwhelmed, breaking down on that very stage. Unable to pull myself together I walked off – something you NEVER do as a professional performer.

My hubby trailed behind me as I rushed back to our cabin. I told him I’d be find after a good cry. As soon as the door latched, I sobbed, “God what are you doing! Why did you call me to this?! How am I supposed sing if I can’t even get through one song. What is my purpose!?” That instant I heard from the Lord louder than I ever have, not audibly but in my spirit. I became aware that I was pregnant.. with Emma Michelle (the name we’d discussed should we ever have a little girl). With this surprising revelation came an overwhelming peace – this was my new purpose, to be a mom. I secretly bought a pregnancy test on the drive home from port and 9 months later the very best surprise of our life was born, Emma Michelle Weirich.

While I was fortunate the LA producer offered to work with me as a solo artist after the duet split, I didn’t feel right about pursuing the endeavor while becoming a new mom. Looking back I realize I was pretty depressed before and during my entire pregnancy with Emma and soon after her birth I battled postpartum depression.

“The journey of motherhood will sometimes leave you feeling like your fighting in the trenches with your comrades just trying to survive. But the journey for a mother with a mental illness can be an isolated one, constantly bombarded by the enemy, trapped or wounded in a foxhole waiting to be rescued from it all” (Kelly Downin). Postpartum depression is ugly. I remember thinking about how I might describe it someday and my reality in that moment has since become my definition for the illness: holding a treasure from the Lord but feeling utterly miserable, helpless and afraid, drenching your little one’s head with your tears.

“Choosing to swim upstream and rise above your feelings is an epic battle, a war of monstrous proportions. It will take every ounce of your reliance on God and what you know of Him, His word, and His promises to fight your negative feelings” (Kelly Downin) That three month journey was exhausting and I remember vowing not to have any more children. But over the next couple years I had a change of heart and three years after Emma’s birth we had our second baby girl, Ainsley Rose.

I guess I hoped that my first experience with PPD was isolated. I was so wrong. This time was debilitating. I remember holding Ainsley right before a panic attack would strike, yelling for someone nearby to take her before my legs gave out. I never lost conscience, but simply shut down with no strength to stand. While hugging my husband goodbye before leaving for work, I’d cry “I can’t do this, I can’t do this” and collapse in his arms. He’d calmly carry me to the couch saying “lets pray for mommy” to Emma.

I was disappointed with God and questioned his plan “Why did you give these precious babies to me!? I’m not worthy of this calling – I’m not meant for this. They deserve better, my husband deserves better.” I stopped singing or enjoying much of anything. I didn’t want to be alive. My only peace was at night when I was sleeping and I hated waking up. My worst days I found it difficult getting through the next hour, feeling trapped in the nightmare of my thoughts. Because of Jesus and believing my life was not my own, but His, I never considered harming myself, even when the thoughts and urges to do so were incredibly strong.

The worst panic attack of my life was on a beautiful sunny morning. My dad was over to keep me company and thankfully rescued Ainsley from my arms just before I collapsed on the couch nearby. I wept prayers begging the Lord to take me home, saying “I don’t want to be here anymore.” Then silence as the attack left me unable to speak. I later heard my mom and Jonathan come through the front door after an emergency call from my Dad. They found me laying limp, eyes closed, speechless, but with tears streaming down my face. I remember listening to the whispering prayers of my mom, kneeled by my side. Jonathan stayed home for the next 6 weeks to take care of me until I was stable. It would take 6 months for full recovery.

The reason I’m standing in front of you now is because God is faithful. He doesn’t give us more than we can bear. He carries us through life’s darkest storms, lighting them with the truth of His word. Matthew 11: 28-30 Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

I forgot in my quest for purpose that I am first His; this is my highest calling. I was seeking more satisfaction in my roles as a musician, wife and even as a mother than my role as a daughter of the most High. It wasn’t until I felt stripped of everything that I was asked this sobering question from the Lord, “am I enough, just Me?”

Those 6 months of sharpening have transformed my relationship with God. They have rerouted my path, reshaped my mission on this earth and I wouldn’t trade them for anything because of the closeness I experienced with Jesus walking under his yolk. To be in a place where we need him every hour is right where we should want to be – humility is the first step in experiencing true contentment and peace. Yes, I was right to question my worthiness as a mom, but He reminded me that motherhood is for His glory, not mine, and that I am made worthy by the blood He shed for me on the cross.

Friends, have you experienced the extravagant, relentless love that Jesus has for you? Have you surrendered your heart to Him? If you haven’t, please join me in prayer and make these words your own:

Dear Jesus,

I don’t want to do this life without You anymore. I want to spend the rest of my days needing You every hour. I believe that You alone are enough for me, that while I can’t, You can. I’m reaching for your hand, opening my heart and asking You to come inside, as my Lord, Savior, Father and Best Friend. Thank you for making me worthy through your sacrifice on the cross.

I love you, Jesus.

Amen