a letter to you

dear person,

Please. Hear me out. I know it's been a couple of years since I reached out and said ‘hello’. I bet you're wondering where I went, and why I obsess and stress over the little things. The reality is, I want you to be prepared. So, please. Just hear me out. I promise I won’t keep you long.

Have you heard of this funny thing?

It’s called loneliness. You ought to have met it at some point. Have you shaken hands with it? It’s very abstract, mind you. From isolation, rejection, abandonment…so many puzzle pieces that scatter across your mind; leaving you wondering what the full picture might look like. 

Loneliness, oh, it starts out small. An empty feeling in your chest...a lack of empathy, perhaps? A lack of love? Physical connection? Spiritual connection? The funny thing we call ‘loneliness’ now grows; it spreads its roots and latches onto us, refusing to let go. Not so funny anymore, I guess. It is with this emotion, I fell into the age-old trap. The very one that I had sworn I wouldn't fall prey to: depression. Welcome to depression: there should have been a road sign that said that. But instead, I ended up driving to a place with no map. I was spinning in the pit, running in the ditch. Toppled over my car, crushed. Shattered glass clung to my flesh as I frantically tried to shift my life into reverse. Bleeding from wounds that I couldn’t see. I ache. I felt too far gone. Every little thing just seemed mundane. I felt trapped in a box with sides all around me. There were no holes for air. there was no exit, nor entry. I was just... there. In that box, I was suffocating. I clawed at my neck for air. I fought back the demons that danced in my head. I screamed. I shoved. I pushed. I fainted. I fell. I stood back up again,

fighting...pleading...for a way out of the torture. I was alone. Forgotten. The road called depression, shaped into a monster...a friend. An ugly, manipulative thing. I watched my self-esteem go up in flames, in a roaring fire.

God, religion, peace, shalom...all of these things faded. I was breathing, not living. alive, but not functioning. and the devil LOVED it. He devoured my stupidity like candy. promising me through doubt that I would find everything I ever needed in him. His words were like velvet to my ears. I

could not forsake them. for I had shoved the Spirit of discernment further down than I had ever then. I didn't understand right or wrong. I just was. As I fell apart, whispers of my past taunted me day and night. in dreams and daydreams, I saw darkness and it hovered over my body. Worthless. Disgusting. Unworthy. Unloved. Idiotic. insult after insult, day after day, on and on this went. attacking me. until I was left torn, beaten, whipped, and cut by crippling fear.

As a little kid, I promised myself I wouldn't fall knee-deep into it. I had seen the effects on others. I had seen what it had done. You get stuck in the doldrums of life; the little critters called slugs, lethargic, come creeping up into your backseat.

I said I was working. But how was I working when that bible was closed? How was I working when my wheels were tread-bare?

It was in my darkest place, in the slush, that I met something else: hope. You’ve met it. I know. Once in a while, it seems so far away but it always comes back around. Always.

Hope: I promise I’m coming. Don’t…lose faith in me.

Years of feeling stagnant. Years of crushing atmosphere.

Light poured into my lifeless soul and darkness shrieked its way out. For an hour or more, I knelt there. I wept for the hurt child in me. I wept to Elohim. I wept for the people who loved me, genuinely cared for me, the people who saved me and didn’t know it. Amongst the shards of depression, there was still an image. An image of a girl, a woman, a child of El, who held her Rescuer’s hand.

What’s the definition of your success?

Creating something that no-one else has created.

Molding something from nothing. Doing what you love.

It’s believing that you can. It’s a person who can take the fears and turn them into motivation. It’s the person who can see the light even when the darkness is all that surrounds them. Growing up on nothing and making progress from that. Crawling when everyone told you to quit.

It’s pressing on when things seem dim when people say:

‘You're going to hell’.

‘You don’t look enough like us’.

‘You’ve gone too far.’

‘Jesus isn’t for you’.

‘Your feelings aren’t valid’.

Nah.

Hope ain’t that.

Hope is a rose covered in frost. Hope is a promise. Hope is a season. Hope is a harvest. Hope is you, striving, pushing, for something, and then receiving it! It’s Calvary's sequoia. It’s love. Growing pains are part of life. Difficult but beneficial. Some would say having a mental breakdown is a negative thing. And yes. On one side of the fence, it is. But if we don’t hit rock bottom, would we still be here today?

All that to say, I wrote this to tell you that. I ain’t listening to the darkness anymore. This is my new leaf. This is my turn. I’m giving you something different. Don’t get me wrong, depression, you taught me so much…but it's time to give the people something different. 

So lovely person, I want you to know, that you are loved. You are wanted. You are precious. And you are needed. It’s okay to feel afraid sometimes but don’t let that hinder your success. Don’t let it let you lose sight of hope. I pray your faith will be fortified.

Please. Don’t give up.

XO

A random passerby