What if

What if the dark night of the soul never ended? What if it went on and on with no relief? What if the valleys never began to rise underfoot, and give way to vistas to take the breath away? What if the shadows remained heavy and suffocating?

This is where I’m at, people. This is my life. The dark night of the soul that goes on and on and on and on and on and on…

I’m opening my veins here. I’m bleeding all over the keyboard.

I’m a fake. I’m a fraud. I say I’m a Christian but I lost my faith several years ago. My life is divided into two time periods, Before and After. I don’t know how to get it back. I don’t know if I’m supposed to get it back. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. So I fake it every day and hope that the fog will lift eventually, but it never does.

There is medication that I take, and sometimes I think it helps. Mostly I think it doesn’t. Again, faking it. Just gritting my teeth for all I’m worth and soldiering on. But my feet are bloody stumps and nobody notices.

Perhaps I live only to be a warning. Don’t come this way, people. Turn back while you still can.

Who else out there feels the same way? I know I can’t be alone. I want to be real, but I am afraid of being judged. Yeah, judged. Afraid of people telling me to pray more, study more, get on my face more. Afraid of being told it’s all my fault that I’m where I am today.

I’ve said my sorry’s. I’ve┬ápleaded for forgiveness. I’ve admitted my mistakes. I’ve repented. And yet the darkness consumes. Why?

The days grind forward and I’m a clod of dirt beneath the wheel, broken and crumbling. Perhaps that’s exactly where God wants me. I just need to learn to surrender. What choice do I have, anyway? He’s going to do what He wants to do in the end, no matter how I feel about it.

Joy comes in the morning. If only there was one.



  1. I hear you. I have no answers. But I hope. And that is what I cling to.

  2. Was there. Twice. The first time (five years long !) God just kept loving and knocking and eventually I just let Him in. Last year I went and got counseling. Because I just didn’t care. About God. About sobriety. About anything. It helped. it’s not for everyone, but it helped.

    • onething

      May 7, 2015 at 12:00 am

      Been to counseling. They never say anything new, and it’s a lot of money to pay when nothing ever changes.

  3. I think this is about as real as it gets.

    Sometimes, faking it is all we have. Once in awhile, I think the faking it gets us close to…well…to what, I’m not sure. But, it’s that nitty gritty dirt-cloddiness that seems to matter for some reason. I don’t know.

    Maybe I’m just full of shit.

  4. I’ve had significant mental health issues all of my life, most of which were triggered by the births of my kids and what followed after. When those problems first cropped up, it was incredibly hard for me to go to church. I couldn’t understand why God had given me the burden I’d been given. Going to church just made me feel like I was not good enough. Why go if it beats you down? But then I figured out that church was for me. It was created to lift me up. If I looked at it from the traditional angle, all I saw was criticism, but if I turned things around inside my head and focused on what I needed, not what everyone else was saying to do or be, church turned into the blessing I needed it to be. Eventually I quit asking why I’d been given my mental challenges. Now, looking back I can see countless times when I was able to bless the lives of others because of the ugly places my mental illness had taken me. I would never wish it on anyone else, but I have become a better, stronger person .

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