God is My Therapist

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I had gotten to that low place again. But I can't say I didn't see it coming. The various changes in my life triggered both illnesses at once, something rarely happens. I found myself slipping deeper and deeper. I didn't care if I got back up and I honestly didn't want to.

At 25, I didn't imagine this life for myself. I'm not sure what exactly I initially pictured my life at this age but it wasn't this. The more I reflected, the deeper I began to go. The crying became more frequent. Bursting into tears sporadically throughout the day. My sensitivity levels were at a all time high. I was an emotional time bomb just waiting to explode. 

I quickly grew distant from people, friends, and family. If they pissed me off in any type of way, I wanted nothing to do with them for a long period of time. If it wasn't that serious. But my depression was serious.

I grew anxious and felt heavy with sadness. Getting out of bed was a struggle. All I wanted to do was sleep. Bit that was becoming a problem too. I forced myself to get up and go to work everyday. Go to work to do a job I literally hate because I need a paycheck. I left one evil for another. But I knew I wasn't going to win either way.

I knew I needed to see my psychiatrist even though I haven't been taking my medication faithfully. My body adjusted to the meds so now they do nothing for me. Instead, I've gotten worse. But I need to be on something. I need something much stronger despite my doctor raising my dosage to the highest level. Maybe I need a different brand or something. But I can barely afford my doctor and my new found insurance doesn't cover it. He's given me discounts in the past but I don't want to take advantage. I also don't want his pity on me; this poor colored woman struggling to make ends meet.

After crying my prayers, I picked up one of my Catherine Ponder books and got to reading. I was drawn to read a specific chapter and in it, this man wrote letters to God about his problems. After writing them, his problems worked itself out. Since I couldn't really afford to see my doctor, I figured I might as well make God my therapist. Word on the street is that He performs miracles.

My letters started off very long and very angry. I was angry with God. I was angry with myself. I didn't like having two episodes in one. I didn't like where my life was heading. I wanted more for myself whatever more is. I wanted to know why God wasn't there like he promised he would. My hand would cramp after my long letters to God. I clearly had a lot to say and get off my chest. I figured I might say what's really on my mind. There's no use of keeping it to myself.

But after a while, my letter became less volatile. I started to become at peace. No, nothing in my life was changing. However, just the act of even talking to God and feeling as if he's reading these letters gave me a sense of peace. It was different than talking to my psychiatrist. For starters, talking with God is Free99. Though I was not happy with God, I had a way better comfort level with Him than my doctor and perhaps that's how it should be anyway. And this is not to knock my psychiatrist because if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have fully known why I had these episodes. But it's something about just talking with God.

Slowly but surely, my problems started clearing up and Divine order was being restored into my life. I like to think my letters to God were read and being answered. But I think they started being answered because I started to let go. I wasn't just chatting it up with God because I wanted something out of Him. I began to just write to him just because I needed someone to talk to.

Don't get me wrong though. I do plan on seeing my psychiatrist soon. Now that I am in a better place, I feel more comfortable talking to an actual professional. This way I can detail my lows but provide the highs that followed. Also, it's probably time that I start taking my pills again, you know, just to be on the safe side. 

But I write this to say that if any of you ever feel as if your struggles are too much and have no one to talk to (or can't afford to), write letters to God. He reads them, I promise.


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