Writing Keeps Me Sane

I was betrayed. Confused. And yes, I was hurt. It was a pain so deep I lost sight of who I was. I lost sight of the good things in my life. I lost sight of the hope I had in Christ and I spiraled. I delved deeply into sin. I found comfort in evil things. I searched for meaning on paths of destruction. I turned my back on the only being who has ever loved me unconditionally. The only one who has ever forgiven all my wrongs and wiped my slate clean.

Then the day came where I wondered how painful it would be as the bullet ripped through my head. My heart recoiled at the thought. How could I think such a thought? How could it come to this? How could I give up on the life God gave me?

My Lord and Savior pulled me back. Every step a painful self-realization of how close I had come to ending it all. Every step a sorrowful reminder of how hopeless I was. Every step moved me closer to the light I had turned my back on so long ago. I found peace again. I found love again. I found hope in Christ again. My life became filled with joy and light. I smiled again. I laughed again.

It’s the little things in life that remind you of what you have lost. Everyday after you wake up seemingly fine and then one morning you see a coffee cup, or a book, or a t-shirt, or any item that belonged to the one you lost. Most mornings, it’s fine, but this morning the tears come falling unhindered.

I feel lost in a dark sea of confusion and loneliness and worthlessness. I feel angry at myself, my family, my so-called friends, and even God. I feel tired of waiting for my day to come. I feel tired of working and working and working, yet not seeing the results. Not seeing my dreams revealed.

It would be a slow betrayal. First would be the shock of learning my secret. Then would come the desire to help me. To change me. To remake me. Next would come anger, because I can't conform to their perfect little world. Then, finally, the judgements they had been holding in would come out and they would walk away.

I am surrounded by light, yet my soul is in the dark. My heart aches from this despair. It’s not a depression though. I can get up in the morning and smile easily at the little things. My cat purring or a text from a friend. I can go to work and joke and laugh with my co-workers and I am happy. I am very happy. But when I’m home and when it gets silent, that longing returns. That dark pain comes back and wraps me up. 

I dream every night of a different reality. The only difference is, in my dreams, I’m not alone. I’m with the one person who knows me, who wants to keep knowing me. I’m with the one person who looks at me as if I am the only person in the world that can make them smile. In dreaming, I find a reality I want to grab on to and hold tightly. My dreams are better than my reality. So, even though I wake up every morning, and laugh, and smile, and joke. When the night comes, I find myself wanting to sleep because my dreams are waiting for me and that is where I feel at home.