By Natalia Andreas // Books // EEW Magazine Online

American Idol alum and Christian singer Mandisa has made it no secret that she battles depression and anxiety, often medicating her pain with food.

In her new memoir Out of the Dark: My Journey Through the Shadows to Find God's Joy, released on Tuesday, she discusses how important good friends are in helping her deal with mental health issues.

In book excerpts released exclusively to People, the Grammy-winning “Overcomer” singer, 45, gets personal about how God sent people into her life to stage a much-needed intervention and pull her out of unhealthy isolation.

Chapter 7: It's Not Over

Since this was the first time I had left my house, I took advantage of being out and decided to trade in my recliner for the recliner seats at Regal Cinemas and treat myself to a movie.

By the time the second movie ended, I had been inside that theater for over four hours. When I walked out into the parking lot, I noticed something strange about my red Toyota Solara. I squinted my eyes. The light speckles all over the car were yellow sticky notes! As I got closer, I was able to read what they said:

We love you. We miss you. Come back to us.

Some of the notes had scriptures written on them. When I looked up, I saw several of my friends getting out of their cars. They had been waiting for me for four hours! My friend Laura, who had organized the intervention, had gone to my house earlier and become convinced I was home but ignoring her incessant knocking. My offhanded mention of my movie plans to my keyboard player, Jon, became a clue to Inspector Laura as to my whereabouts. I later discovered that my friends had driven to several theaters in town until they found my car. They'd covered it with their sticky-note encouragements and then waited until the movie was over. They hadn't expected me to watch two films!

At first I was annoyed. They had invaded my privacy.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, a scowl on my face. "How did you find me?" My friends were like little lightbulbs walking around, and their brightness was uncomfortable.

"We just want to sit and talk with you for a few minutes," Laura said. "This has been going on for too long."

"No! I'm going home!"

"Disa," Tammy said gently. "Please. Just a few minutes." I knew they weren't going to leave me alone until I agreed.

"Fine, whatever." The looks of sorrow and concern on their faces made me feel horrible. They had already picked out an outdoor area beside the Panera Bread next door. My friends circled around me for an intervention. Each of them took a turn telling me what I meant to them and ending with why they were concerned with the present state of affairs. I don't know if you've ever been on the receiving end of an intervention, but it's not pleasant. I couldn't be angry at them because of their kindness, but I was annoyed at their interference. Light.

"We love you." "We can't let you keep doing this." "We're fighting for you." One of my friends said, "Disa, we love you just the way you are." I'd heard those words before, and my friend could tell I was beginning to check out. But she continued, "No, hear this. We want you to know we love you just the way you are. But we love you too much to leave you there." That felt like God speaking directly to me

I could hear Him saying, "I will take you at four hundred pounds and love you no matter how much you weigh and how much you try to push Me away. But I love you too much to leave you in that place."

Finally, after everyone had said their peace [sic], with my walls still up but not quite as formidable, I asked, "What do you want me to do?

They told me they wanted me to get counseling, and Dan had already found someone I could meet with. I agreed to it, maybe just to get them off my back, or maybe knowing I needed professional help. Either way, that uncomfortable, awkward, embarrassing alfresco meeting was a turning point. The darkness felt a little less dark. I could see a small flicker. Light was beginning to break through.