Yet I Will Praise You

I didn’t even realize I was depressed. I was feeling hopeless, I felt worthless, and I couldn’t sleep.
It’s because I’m too stressed. I need to be a better Christian. I need to find hope in Christ… whatever that means.
I sobbed, wailed, wept, because my body felt numb. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t feel anything but pain. My husband held me, as I screamed and let out the pain that I felt so deep inside me. He gave me tissues, he stroked my hair, he said I love you.
I struggled to believe him. Look at me, I am the definition of unlovable.
He wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t stop telling me that he loved me.

This summer has been full of the most real, intense pain I have ever experienced. I have been lost in darkness. I have prayed for a desire for the light. Maybe you’ve felt this. Maybe you have experienced the power of words… for they hold tremendous power. Words can heal, they can encourage, they can isolate, and they can destroy. I have felt destroyed by words this summer.
Words that were spoken out of another’s pain. Words that, I hope, they wished they could take back. Words that have rung in my ears since the moment they were spoken. Words that have created doubt in my mind.

This summer, I have been reminded of the power of words. Not only hurtful words, but words that can heal.

So many times I have pleaded with God to speak audibly. To say the things to me, that he says in scripture. You know what? We can speak them to each other.
This summer, I experienced healing as the words of God were spoken over me. Blameless. Beloved.

This summer, someone got in the trenches with me. So, I pray that this is what sticks with me… not the words said from hurt and anger, but the words spoken to me in my despair. I pray that I learn how to come alongside those who are hurting. I hope that I have learned something about healing. I hope that I have learned something about humbling myself to ask for help in healing.
My heart hurts. I have burst blood vessels in my eyes from crying. I have had many sleepless nights, awake for hours consumed with anxiety, anguish, and fear. I have been afraid of sleeping because of the dark dreams that awake.

Bear one another’s burdens.
Weep with those who weep.


I thought that having a reason for feeling the way I felt would make it easier…. it hasn’t. Instead, I dare to say things have gotten worse since I admitted I’ve been depressed. The difference is I’m not walking by myself anymore. I am recognizing wounds, and I am labeling things for what they are. It hurts. It’s hard to say “these people say they love me, but have hurt me by doing X-Y-Z.”
So, maybe it’s worse… but I also feel like I’m in a better place now, because I’m not alone. I’m in a better place, because I’m being honest. I’m in a better place because I’m not holding everything inside.

For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness, in health.

Most of all, I have been shown such love by my husband. My joy in the midst of sorrow. Thanks for being my sunshine. For making me happy when my skies are perpetually grey.


Maybe you’re wondering why I’ve decided to post this. First, this has been my struggle this year and a lot of people have no clue. Second, a lot of people DO know that this has been my struggle, but I have had a hard time expressing it. I feel like this puts my feelings into words. I feel like I finally explained exactly what I wanted to, and my words don’t fall short. Finally, I feel like it could help someone. When you’re in pain, you want to isolate yourself… DON’T. Find people you can trust, that will speak truth into your life. Find someone who will ask the tough questions and challenge you with the truths of scripture. And, most importantly, cultivate friendships with deep roots that won’t be easily swayed when hardship hits.

In every sorrow, Jesus is better.


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