The lure of the tall tree grew stronger as I rounded the bend leading to my secret refuge. Climbing over moss covered roots and around large rocks, I found my way to the gigantic tree. It didn’t matter that I was alone. It didn’t matter that it was so late in the evening- that darkness was about to win its battle with the receding daylight.
Nor did it matter that I was only 7 years old. I had to run away- somewhere far from the constant turmoil of living in a home full of abuse, rejection, shame, and deceit. From a mom too depressed to get out of bed and a father whose violent rages made our house a daily battlefield and dark secrets that to this day I cannot piece together.
Do you really know me, God? Are you there?
I spent many years numbing my hurt. I was so broken, but trying to appear to others that I was the perfect Christian kid in the perfect Christian family that everybody expected me to be. For a long time, I thought if I just kept focused on God's Word, I'd find relief. But the depression just got worse. Spiritually, I couldn’t feel God’s presence. I couldn’t understand why He didn’t heal me. Reading the Bible didn’t help. I couldn’t even pray.
What am I going to do with my life? Am I ever going to make it?
I determined that I must leave my former life behind, act as if it didn’t exist. I thought if I was able to let it all go, I would not be affected by my past. But the accumulation of so many years was taking its toll. Once again the feelings of having to be that perfect Christian overwhelmed me. I felt panic and anxiety because I could never be that person.
At a time in my life when the world was supposed to be opening up to me, I found myself retreating. Apathetic, uncaring, tired, and with no particular vision for any future, I subtly drifted into a world without hope.
My regular doctor seemed to notice that I wasn’t myself. He was very concerned and called in a mental health therapist. I didn’t see how sick I had become. I was so tired and confused, had difficulty making decisions, and had considered a plan to end my life. I was committed to a psychiatric facility.
My personal belongings were rummaged through, and I headed down the long hallway to doctors and a treatment team that became my “family.”
I was numb, trying to see through a haze that had settled upon what once was vivid and bright. All color had seeped from a life that used to hold such joy. Some people didn't understand my depression. They regarded it as a bad case of the Sunday evening blues, believing that if I tried harder and stopped feeling sorry for myself, I would “get better.” But I wasn't just dealing with apathy. I couldn't remedy being sick with a strenuous run, a good movie, or simply the passing of time. Depression transcended my circumstances and invaded my soul. It was more like a day terror — like waking up to a nightmare. Clinical depression painted my world black while screaming quietly that I was worthless.
God if you’re real please, help me.
Immediately, words of hope found their way deep into my heart. Don’t focus on your problems; let me shine through your life. Look around you.
It was the kindness, compassion, love and truth demonstrated in the hospital that began unlocking my wounds, hurts and distorted thinking. I was learning from the worn lives around me. Lives I would have once felt pity for or wanted to distance myself from. They were the ones who possessed strength and courage. They had suffered abuse, neglect, addiction and illnesses. They felt misplaced and forgotten; they were told they didn't matter.
When I was depressed, I was completely turned inward. I couldn't see past my own shame. It warmed me, but like a scratchy blanket, brought its own discomfort. The irony is, until I recognized my depression for what it was, I wasn't able to turn outward and accept love and love in return.
I did look around. I began to see others that I could help. I understood their pain. These people may never have initially stepped foot inside a church, but I could help point them to Jesus.
With all my imperfections, my heavenly Father showed me that He’ll shine through all the areas in my life.
The pain of having missed out on the love and nurturing I needed is deep and real. Facing it and walking through forgiveness is one of the toughest parts of my journey to healing. However, God sees me, knows me, cherishes me, and cares for me more profoundly and perfectly than anyone else ever could.
God, what would you have me do?
My story is still in progress. But I tackle each challenge as it arises, and thank God for every day He chooses to give me. And I make myself available to others who are struggling, thankful that God can use my trials to help others. I live every day fully aware that there are many godly, Christ-centered people who turn daily to the Lord to gain the strength to win their battle against depression.
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