Julia Gaughan had a plan. A plan for how she would die.

It was December 2015. She planned to drive her car off the road on her way to work in Topeka in an apparent accident. She would wait until after the holidays so she could spend the time with her husband, Mike, and son, Kiernan, who was 7 at the time.

But on Dec. 21, the day before her birthday, Julia, who was a practicing attorney at the time, attended a baby shower for a coworker. She was an emotional wreck. Her heart was breaking because she didn’t want to leave Mike and Kiernan — they mean everything to her. But she couldn’t live with the mental pain. It was all too much.

She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t know how to stay.

In the midst of all that inner turmoil, she summoned the strength to reach out to a friend. She asked the friend if she could pick her up and take her to Lawrence Memorial Hospital. She called Mike, who is a Douglas County Commissioner, and asked him to meet her there. Eventually, Julia was admitted to Stormont Vail, an inpatient behavioral health center in Topeka, where she stayed for several days.

Upon her release, Julia began receiving services for anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation at the Bert Nash Community Mental Health Center. That put her on the path to recovery. A path she is still on.

“I still get sad sometimes, but I am so thankful to be alive,” she said.

Life wasn’t easy for Julia growing up, though outwardly she hid what she was feeling. Throughout her school years, she earned good grades and high test scores, starred in plays and served as student council president. But thoughts about dying and the specific ways she would die were a preoccupation.

“Since I was 12, I had regularly — and at times, unceasingly — planned my death,” Julia said.

Afraid what other people would think if she confided in them, she hid her feelings about death. Outwardly, she projected a positive outlook. She tried not to think about dying. She would even pray about it.

“I grew up in a very religious home and I was certain I would go to hell if I killed myself,” Julia said. “I felt like an outcast. I figured out early on that if I said these things out loud, people would think something was wrong with me. And I was determined to not let anyone think something was wrong with me.”

She went to law school. She figured if she accomplished the next thing on her goal list, she would no longer think about dying. But the thoughts persisted. Eventually, she did seek help from a therapist for anxiety. But she couldn’t open up about her feelings of wanting to die.

That is, until Dec. 21, 2015, when she reached out for help. That was the first time Julia talked to someone about the frequency and intensity of her thoughts about death. 

“You feel so isolated, but once you start sharing it, it normalizes an experience you think is really abnormal,” she said. “That was one of the good things about group therapy, sharing your story in a safe place. A lot of what I’ve worked on has to do with accepting myself, forgiving myself, learning to sit still and feel instead of doing everything possible to avoid feeling. And to understand that thoughts can just be thoughts.”

Julia hasn’t returned to practicing law. She volunteers for community groups and she works at The Willow Domestic Violence Center. She has also started blogging, where she has written openly about her clinical depression and anxiety disorder. She is grateful for all of the support she has received.

“Mike has been incredible,” Julia said of her husband. “I’ve had a lot of layers of support, between family and friends.”

It hasn’t been easy. There are still bad days. But there are more good days than bad. And she is grateful to be alive.

“I am still working on owning my full story,” Julia said. “Not every day is good. But more days feel like a place that I don’t even remember knowing. A place where I’m all there. A place where I show up. Whole.”