Depression had robbed me of everything—energy, friendships, faith. I smiled in front of people but was breaking inside. I stopped praying because I didn’t believe God was listening. I felt like a ghost in my own life, going through the motions, numb to joy and deaf to hope.
I didn’t want to admit I was struggling. I thought faith meant always being strong, always trusting, always smiling. So I faked it. Until I couldn’t anymore.
One night, I sat in the dark, tears streaming down my face, and whispered, “God, if You’re there… I need You.” It wasn’t eloquent. It wasn’t even confident. But it was honest. And somehow, that was enough.
The next morning, I woke up with a verse on my heart: “Even the darkness is not dark to You.” I hadn’t read Scripture in weeks, but that line echoed in my soul. I didn’t feel healed, but I felt noticed.
I started small. One prayer a day. One verse. One walk outside. I told a friend the truth, and instead of judgment, I found compassion. I joined a support group at church, where people spoke openly about their struggles. I realized I wasn’t alone—and I wasn’t broken beyond repair.
God didn’t snap His fingers and erase the depression. But He walked with me through it. He sent people to hold me up when I couldn’t stand. He reminded me that my weakness didn’t disqualify me—it drew me closer to Him.
Slowly, the light came back.
I began to laugh again. To feel again. To worship not because I had it all together, but because I knew God loved me in the middle of the mess.
Today, I still have hard days. But I no longer face them alone. I’ve learned that faith isn’t about pretending everything’s fine—it’s about trusting God even when it’s not.
Depression tried to steal my light. But God gently reignited it.
And now, I shine—not because I’m perfect, but because I’ve been through the dark and found the One who never left.
