I spend most of my weekends alone. Not entirely by choice but partially. All of my friends are either working or busy and, as a result, I spend 99.9% of my weekends drinking coffee and watching Gossip Girl on Netflix.
And during this time, depression started to lurk around the corner. It wanted to take a hold of my hand. It wanted to make a camp in my room. It wanted to Netflix and chill with me.
I debated for a very long time whether I wanted to come back. Because I go to ORU, there’s a certain persona that one must take.
You must post Instagrams of artsy scenery and quote C. S. Lewis or Christine Caine while getting 11+ likes in the process. You must smile, always, even when you feel empty inside. You must never ever tell someone how your day really was. Conceal don’t feel.
This blog became my safe haven. Until, people I know started following it. People that go to ORU. People that may not accept my Elsa in her truest form.
But I’m tired of pretending. Yes, depression wants to become my best friend. But, I’ve decided that it and I need to break up. But, like any breakup, it’ll be harder than it seems.
And I could end this blog by saying that there is a Savior who died for my depression. There is. And He did. But someone needs to hear this also:
It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to admit that you’re going through pain. And it hurts. Oh dear, the pain chills through your veins like nothing you’ve ever felt before. And it’s okay to acknowledge that. But no one can decide for you when to let it go. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re crazy for being depressed or having anxiety.
We can walk through this valley together. Me, you, and the Almighty. Hand in hand. But He won’t drag you up to walk through it. Walk through it when you’re ready. And His hand will forever be open when you’re ready to take it.
It’s weird. Me talking about depression when it’s a struggle of my own. But it’s also proof that you’re not alone. You never were. And you never will be.