Last October found me at the height of my depression. I was sleeping ten to twelve hours a day. I could only muster up enough energy to go to grad class, and even that was a struggle. I had been in therapy for a couple of months, but that was proving not enough; antidepressants became the next step, but those would take weeks to kick in.
I was struggling with the transition out of my undergraduate career, going from living independently to moving back in with mom and dad. I was dealing with a failed relationship and with emotions that I had stuffed down for a decade. It all hit me at once, and I didn’t realize that I was not emotionally equipped to handle any of it. I didn’t realize I had no coping skills. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, my dad was diagnosed with cancer.
I had had it. I was done. I was at the bottom of the pit, and there was no way out. It was the first time in my life that I believed that God didn’t exist. How could a God exist? How could a God who is supposed to love me, let me be beat to a pulp?
Slowly I crawled up out of the pit. Antidepressants helped me deal with the anxiety; they gave me space to think. Through therapy I learned healthy ways to deal with my emotions. All ten years of them. My life was turning around. I left the antidepressants behind. I had become a more complete version of myself. But I still did not know how God played into all of this.
I’m a year away from that complete and total despair.
This past October, was spent at training camp for the World Race. In a year I have gone from not believing that God existed, to signing up for a non-profit to go do missions work.
Doubt set in. I thought I wasn’t good enough. Everyone else on my team would judge me for who I was and what I had been through. No one would even understand my doubts that I had about myself or God.
I was wrong.
What I found at training camp was something that had been missing from all of my experiences as a Christian. The people I met loved me; truly loved me. They didn’t even know me. Once they got to know me, they loved me even more; despite my doubts, despite my past. That didn’t matter. They didn’t judge me.
Love like that to me is unfathomable. It goes against our human nature. Yes, I always want to love people, but so often I find myself ready to judge, criticize and somehow try and convince myself that I am better.
I have learned that we as humans surround ourselves with lies that are damaging to our existence. We tell ourselves that we are not good enough, that we do not deserve love, that we are not worthy of X, Y and Z.
