"you have no reason to stay.” The thought wakes you up from your sleep. You can’t shake it, so you watch the rain hit the window sill and wonder if anyone would notice your absence.

“You have no reason to stay” now repeats to the metronome of the second hand on the clock. Over a bowl of cereal and antidepressants.

“You have no reason to stay” takes the form of used tissues lining the carpet and coffee that has gone cold.

“I have no reason to stay” you tell your mother as she combs through your ***** hair and kisses your head.

“Yes you do, your reason to stay is your heart that is still beating-proof that your story isn’t finished quite yet. You can’t give up on an entire story just because the first few chapters are dark.

I met God tonight. We walked along the river bank, the trees were turning and the wind was brisk. It was much brighter than usual, dream-like as I finally plead my case:
“I’m sorry, I just can’t do this anymore” I finally say to break the silence.
“I know” He says understandably.
“I have no reasons to get out of bed in the morning. The only reason I do is because I should. I should go to work. I should go on a hike. I should try to live a normal life. The shoulds are what keep me alive and active and I can’t keep living on shoulds.

My mind is a never ending battlefield and I am exhausted. I’m fed up. I can’t keep living because I should. I can’t keep fighting the agony in my mind. I’ve lost hope.

Last time I found healing it was only to get torn apart even harder. This life has never been what I wanted, I keep trying and trying to make it work and nothing fits. It's not worth it anymore, it never has been..."
A long silence passes as I make my final point
"God, you and I both know I wasn’t meant for this world. I belong with you, in heaven finally experiencing peace for the first time. I belong with my Jesus whom I love. You are good and perfect and holy and that’s where I need to be, I need to be home.”

He takes a deep breath and responds in a fierce gentleness.
"My daughter, you cannot make it through this life without me, you’re right-you’re not strong enough. I want you to listen to me very clearly-depression and the enemy want to tear you apart. They want you to feel isolated.

You see, you are a great threat to the enemy-because he knows how much I will use you for the kingdom. He knows I will move mountains through you and change lives and open hearts through your story and faith. He knows my plans and he is terrified. He is doing everything in his power to destroy you, to turn your mind against itself, to give up on life so that you can’t do the great things I have planned for you.

Listen to me love, I am using you even now in ways you don’t even know. I’ve written your story from beginning to end and I plead with you to let me finish it. Take my hand, and let me walk through all of it with you. The hardships, the suffering, and yes-the joy, laughter, and love because I promise that’s in there too.

You are suffering greatly and you have suffered greatly for the majority of your life, but I made you strong-I made you strong with a heart and compassion that has no limits. You are a dreamer, a believer, and a fighter and it was essential the world needed you in it. You will come out the other side if you could just give me your hand, and let me be there every step of the way. You are precious in my eyes and I love you. I know you think you’re ready for heaven but you are not, there is so much more I want for you here.

Stay my love, stay and let me show you my plans. Stay and let me show you my love. Stay and grow and learn and live. You will never lose the fight to depression so long as you trust me to stay and to live. I love you sweet girl. You are my child, my daughter I died so that you could be mine forever, and I am so glad I did. I’m so glad you are my daughter.”

I give a half-smile and sigh. I take his hand and walk through the fire that surely awaits when I wake up.

A little girl stands, 6 years old looking in the mirror while playing dress-up. She wears a fake tiara and a little too much poorly applied lipstick. She has the biggest dimples when she smiles and eyes as bright as the joy that’s in her heart. She runs to her dad when he comes home from work-he laughs and says “you’re beautiful and lovely don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She doesn’t need a mirror to believe his words.

Suddenly 6 years turns quickly into 12. Her smile that once stretched from East to West is now nothing more than a forced grin, with worry that fills those big blue eyes. She has thoughts that confuse and attack her and fill her with a paralyzing amount of fear for anything. She knows she’s a little different than her friends. Her dad tells her she’s going to be okay and that God tells us not to worry because he takes cares of us. It was the first time she began to doubt him.

12 years soon turns into 15. She changes her hairstyle and spends hours in front of the mirror wishing to feel comfortable in her own skin. Her best friends all have boyfriends now and she begins to question herself, why do boys notice her friends beauty and not her own? Her dad tells her she’s beautiful and guys aren’t worth it, she doesn’t believe him.

Years go by…heartbreaks and disappointments become a routine. She immerses herself in the depressed girl because she doesn’t believe life for her will ever include joy. She is afraid of herself and the monster that grew inside of her.

She has hope that things might get better when she moves away for college that people might notice her there. A few did, but none stayed. Which was infinitely more painful. Rejection began to trump invisibility and she didn't believe she was worth the happiness that her friends found. She knew God could fix her but doubted that he ever would. Her bright blue eyes seared red from crying, were extraordinarily tired and her smile was as much of a stranger as the person she once was.

What happened to those eyes that once shone bright with passion and joy? Where did they go when life happened and the world broke in? Are our eyes buried inside us? Deep within the lies and hurt we've built up over the years? I believe so. Our eyes are now saturated with suffering and wisdom and are all the more beautiful because of it.

I want to meet someone who makes my heart flutter and gives me sweaty palms. Not because he’s charming or says all the right words because he knows the game-but because he is kind. Because he thirsts for Jesus in a very authentic way.

Someone who is funny-who can make my stomach hurt from laughter because the world needs more of that. Someone who is flawed but relentlessly seeks after God in their humanness. Someone who knows darkness and therefore knows the depths of light.

I know that in today’s world, this kind of person is very few and far between. But I won’t give up in holding out, I won’t settle for anyone  to compensate my loneliness.

I am not a half looking for someone to make me whole, I am whole now, I have joy now.

But I hope to do this life thing with you someday, and I hope this waiting is deepening you into a better, stronger person as it is for me.  I can’t wait to not be strangers.

See you when I see you.

This is what I have learned about healing: it will come.
It’s true what they say, “the first cut is the deepest”
that’s because you will find that learning how to heal
will become a lifelong skill.

Here’s another thing: you can’t let other people heal you.
Because it will only backfire in the end,
worse than the initial wound.
Other people can help along the way,
but us humans are too fickle to be saviors.

The first step in the healing process is learning to love yourself.
The only way to start healing is to believe
that you are worth healing.
Take time, take as much time as you need.
Don’t let other people’s impatience with
your lack of progress discourage or frustrate you.
Just like you can’t yell at a wound to scar faster
you can’t yell at your heart to heal quicker.

You must do things you love.
I know your bed tells you it’s safe
but it’s nothing more than a prison in disguise
for a depressed mind.  

Go outside. Pet a bunch of dogs. Do your laundry.
Be around people that make you laugh.
Watch movies you’ve never seen.
Walk in the park barefoot and watch the sunset alone.
Let yourself cry if you need to.
Drink lots of black coffee and never stop writing,
even if you have nothing to write about.
Talk to God, yell at God, cry to God
he’s never not listening, never withholding his arms of comfort.

This is how you heal.
You strip negative people from your life
and you work to not become a negative person yourself.
Bitterness doesn’t look good on anyone.
And you love and appreciate the
people that love you and fight for you.

Life is a cycle of falling apart and stitching back together,
with some consistent plateaus in between.
Embrace it, because your scars tell powerful stories.

In January I realized I needed help, I withdrew from school and sought a lonely road to recovery.

In February, I finally let go of someone who had been toxic to me for two years. I had never felt more free.

In March I grew stronger and healthier and learned how to take care of myself. I started laughing again and rolled the windows down.

In April, I moved back. It was a beautiful reunion and I was healthy for the first time in my life.

In May, June, and July I experienced a deep loneliness and an empty house that really tested all I had learned. But I found God’s comfort in my deepest isolation.

In August, I went back to school and really experienced college and friends for the first time. As a senior.

In September, I got my heart broken again..but by my best friend. I knew no matter how hard I tried it would never be the same.

In October, I lost myself in a group of people that didn’t value what I valued. It left me with a horrible hangover.

In November, I tried to heal. I tried to step back but I didn’t have anyone else. I had lost so many people this year.

In December, I took the pictures off my wall. I came home. I cried to my mom from a bathtub. I asked her “why?“ She didn’t have the answer though. She said to focus on what I have instead of what I’ve lost, to focus on my dreams and future instead of dwelling on the past.

In 2015 I grew. I loved a lot and I lost a lot. But I’m still here, and restless as ever because I know I was made for more than broken hearts and crippling insecurity

And in 2016 I’m going to find it. And I hope you do too.