The other day, one of my friends shared a beautifully honest post on Instagram about her struggle with anxiety and depression and she reminded everyone that sometimes bad things happen for a reason – it’s in the darkness that the brightest lights can shine and you realize with the help of friends and doctors and family that you’re a lot stronger than you imagined. Because He is a lot stronger than we remember and God has a plan and purpose for our lives.

So in that same vein – I thought I’d share part of my story.

I don’t go to the doctor. So I’ll probably never know if clinically I have serious mental health issues. I can tell you that I definitely have situational depression and over the years had accumulated some heavy lies about myself, people around me, and God.

By the time my dad left when I was twelve I was already struggling with being sexually mistreated by someone I loved and trusted, I felt largely unwanted and was convinced my boundaries and desires were irrelevant to those around me. After I experienced the pain of rejection and disrespect of being blindsided by the divorce – I found Jesus. Well, He found me. I was sobbing on a giant rock at Summer camp looking at the stars and felt completely wrecked. He came down and He picked me up and He called me into His family.

But for the next fourteen years I lived on the outside. It was like I was adopted by a super rich family with an incredible mansion and I could see the people inside but I was looking in. Sometimes I’d be brave and approach the doorway or sit on the porch but in my mind I believed I belonged as close to the fence as I could be, because I wasn’t worthy.

During those fourteen years – my head and my heart were not lined up. I struggled with depression. Fantasized about different ways I could kill myself but have it look like an accident because it’d be awful if people knew what was going on. I cut myself. Then I hated myself for cutting myself. That’s a vicious cycle. I binged on food and TV. I stopped eating for a while. I had to have my college roommate take away my razors. And then one day last March, I was driving home from a wedding.

I was tired and overwhelmed by life. The past few years had been the opposite of what I wanted and expected and on that particular day, someone I thought cared about me, had broken my trust and proved to my broken heart and brain that people can’t be trusted. No one cares about me. I don’t deserve good things. So in the snow and freezing temperatures I seriously considered driving my car off the road. I drove home recklessly and without a seatbelt and I begged for a drunk driver to come hit me.

I got home and gave up. I went to my room. Cried and yelled it out and said enough.

I knew I wasn’t created to live this way. I knew I’d been saved for so much more. Besides, I’d already survived worse. I couldn’t let one selfish friend be the end.

So I emailed a counselor and I started my journey towards freedom.

It’s been a long road. I spoke to my counselor for a year before starting the Genesis process at the beginning of this year. I think the combination of both really helped me see my life in a different perspective. Healing is a process. And while I’m miles from where I’ve been – I have miles to go. There are still times where crippling depression hits and getting out of bed seems impossible. There are still times where dying seems to be the best option and I wish beyond belief I could do it without hurting others. (Thank the Lord my need to serve others supercedes my self-hate because that’s kept me alive more times than I can count).

But instead of succumbing to those thoughts and feelings I now have tools to help me fight back. I have people and a community who will practically help or just listen. But mostly, I’m not living on the fence. I’m inside and right now I’m probably still lingering in the entry way. My coats definitely not off yet. But it’s close and it’s getting there. And every time something threatens to pull me outside and I take a stand – I get closer and closer to one day sitting by the fireplace at the feet of my Father with a cat on my lap and a dog by my side.

Mental health and freedom is a process. Everyone is different and we all have to do what works best for us. But community and Jesus really are key. Having people around you who can remind you of truth and encourage you through low moments have made the difference. They’re the ones at the door who are blocking me from running because they’ve got their arms around me and won’t let me go.

But ultimately – my freedom is already won and bought. Jesus died so that I might be free. I may not be living in that freedom all the time (thank the Lord there’s grace for that) but one day – at the end of this world – I’ll get to be in a redeemed body fully freed from all the lies and shame and hurt that threaten me daily and try to whisk me away. That’s going to be a glorious day.

Until then I’m gonna fight. I’m gonna stop listening to lies and replace them with truth about who I am and who He is. I’m gonna stop listening to myself and instead talk to myself. I’m going to lean on others when I’m too weary to do it alone. And I’m going to pray. Because when we pray we move Heaven and Earth. When we pray we’re asking our good good Father who also happens to be the creator of the universe to intercede and save us.

Sometimes life sucks. Sometimes we’re dealt a heavy blow. I’ve been there. But there is always hope. So don’t ever give up. You’re worth so much more than the sum of your mistakes or all the horrid things that have happened to you.

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