Depression?

I open my eyes and see. See clearly for the first time in years. It's gone. Completely gone.

The depression that has taunted and suffocated me since I was a child no longer exists.
It's a miracle. A God-given, undeserved gift.

I have been fighting for so long. Fighting the depression that would come after trauma, after death, or a relationship loss. Depression plagued me since I was a child. It's taken different forms over the years, it's personalities vary depending on the situation.

As a child, depression settled in my stomach. I'd stay home from school telling my mom I was sick even though I really wasn't, not in the conventional way at least. Depression came as a result of attempting perfection. Even from a young age, I wanted to be perfect. I thought my mom, dad and God would only really love me if I was perfect.

I strove to be the perfect student, daughter, and athlete. And guess what? I did it. For a while.

The depression followed me to high school. It would corner me in the bathroom telling me I wasn't pretty or thin enough. It would stare at me, from the other side of the mirror scoffing. Coupled with the depression was anxiety. Choking anxiety. The anxiety would well up in my throat, cutting off my air supply, causing me to eat less and lose weight. In the high school bathroom I would look at myself and say, "You’ve got this. You can handle this. Suck it up. You are strong enough to do this. Put on your pretty face, the one that wins friends and awards. Go be the person they believe you to be." Wiping away a few stray tears, I'd walk back out, anxiety settling at the back of my throat and depression ever-present, yet slightly removed, covered up, like a bandaid over a gash.

Family tragedy hit. Divorce. Death. Mental illness. Suicide. Mental breakdowns. Hospitalizations. Car accidents. Drugs. Affairs. Addictions. Gambling. Pornography.

Dirty. Sin. Death

It became too much sometime in college. The girl who'd give herself pep talks in the high school bathroom couldn't do it anymore. She lost it. She lost her mind. She fell, deeply, into the depression that had followed her her entire life. She gave in completely, losing herself in that, using alcohol and superficial relationships as bandaids.

Through the haze came counselors, friends, anti-depressents. And they would help, for a little while. But every time I tried to taper off the meds, I'd fall again and the last time was the worst. I couldn't leave my room. Fear plagued me. Death hovered above me. I lived in a controlling home at the time. I had moved into that place with hope, hope that I could learn to be me in a healthy atmosphere. I was wrong. I began to exercise, eat healthy, and lose weight obsessively. Where I had filled my void with alcohol before, now I filled with "good" things. But they weren't good. Not really. Not for where I was at, and the way I viewed those things. My relapse lasted longer this time and it didn't matter what I tried, it didn't leave. I was stuck.

God started to do something in those deeply dark moments. I couldn't feel Him like I always had but I knew He was there, in moments, brief moments I could feel Him somewhere. I knew He wanted me to fight, and fight the only way I knew how, the only way left. With Him, His Words of life. Scripture, the Bible. The only truth that truly exists. I began to write verses on sticky notes and put them on my mirror. I began to fight. Ephesians instructs us to put on the whole armor of God so that we can fight the enemy of our souls. I began to fight the battle in my mind, the battle that I almost lost to suicide. God kept my hands on the wheel when I tried to run my car off the road. He wouldn't let me kill myself. He knew I would fight. He knew there was more for me to do than die and run into His arms. He knew. He has always known. He has always been there, holding and cradling me.

After years of fighting and believing that one day it would be over, that day has come. A little over two months ago, God quietly spoke to my spirit and said, "You're healed." I threw away my anti-depressants that day. He told me I would experience some physical withdrawals and that was it, nothing more. And I did, heavy legs, a little dizziness and heavy eyes. But nothing else. It's gone. I have won that battle. God has defeated that enemy. Praise God it's done....

And now, now I feel so completely and deeply. I love like I never have before. I feel the good and the bad and it's wonderful because the bad doesn't stick. I fight it and it leaves. I run to my God and surrender and cry and He cleanses me. He revives me. He has restored me.

I love now. Love so much. He has given these people as gifts. Every good and perfect gift is truly from Him.
Friends, relationships, family. I love. I love so much and it's Him. It always has been and will always be. Our capacity to love depends on God. On reaching to Him and letting Him show us love and love through us.

He is love. He is life.

I am living.

I am free.