I was lying on the floor in my bedroom experiencing a crippling panic attack, one of many that day. I had just returned home early from serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I felt like a failure. The ensuing months involved bouts of debilitating depression, numerous medication prescriptions, countless therapy visits, and feelings of wanting to end it all, at times. It was in these moments that I learned a valuable lesson: we all have a mission, both in and out of the Church, and there is meaning in our missions. Regardless of what we may be going through: struggling with addiction, lack of testimony, same-sex attraction, feeling lonely, forgotten, or not good enough, experiencing mental illness and discouragement, etc, there is purpose behind our pain, and there is hope in our struggle. It's up to us, are we going to go through life, or grow through life?