The Day I Yelled at God

(Before note: This was initially supposed to be a post for To Write Love On Her Arms. They were opening up the blog to readers and saying that some of the stories could get posted on the blog. Well it turned into so much more. I felt the need to share it here, too. I hope this message and encourages you and gives you hope. This post is one of my most raw by far, but it feels good to show that Jesus is good. I don’t have to hide my scars, just wear them as proof that God heals. I am in such a good place right now and the Lord is continuously doing a healing work in my heart. I pray He does the same for each one of you this new year.) 

   I honestly never thought I would find myself yelling at God. My whole life up to that point would have deemed the act disrespectful and deplorable.

     “God is all-powerful and all-knowing.”

     “He has your best interest at heart.”

     “Just trust Him. He knows what He is doing.”

     “Don’t give up.”

    “He has a plan. There is a reason.”

     “Just be your normal self. Just be happy.”

     “Smile. It’ll pass.”

     “Other people have it worse. Your problems are not that big of a deal.”

   These are all things I’ve heard on my depression journey. None of them were really all that helpful. And they definitely assured me I should not yell at God (more on that later). 

   People see depression as just being really sad, but my God, it is so much more than that. It’s laughing with friends when you are thinking about whether they would miss you if you stopped existing. It’s a gigantic black hole that causes a physical, gaping pain in your chest that you think might kill you. Its being unable to get out of bed because you feel the weight of the world and the weight of your own existence. It’s not eating because you just don’t care. It’s crying for no reason at all. It’s hating yourself and believing you are worthless. Depression is the big monster in the closet that dresses like everything we know and love.

   When I began my depression journey, the doctors believed it to just be circumstantial. After a time, my situation got better, but my depression did not. Things got progressively worse. I walked around in a cloud and never felt happy or sad or much of anything. It was like I was being swallowed up by this gaping hole of nothingness. I became very apathetic. So much so that I had to give my body commands- like I had to override my brain. It became:

“Get up now…get dressed…eat something…”

   Then things got better for a time. I got married and started a whole new life. I was sure I would be cured of the horrible depression that had been clouding my life. Boy, was I wrong. It was the worst season of depression I had faced yet. I hated everything about myself and was convinced everyone around me was lying about caring about me. My communication was almost non-existent. I kept everything inside, not wanting to burden anyone with my stupid and pointless problems. After all, I was a worthless human being-or so I believed. I had little motivation to do anything an cried all the time. I slept little and ate much. The few times I did talk to my husband, I told him he should just divorce me. I told him he deserved better and that he would be better off without me. At my lowest point, I nearly shut down. This was when I began contemplating suicide. What would it be like for all the pain and darkness and worthlessness to go away? Sure people might be sad for a little while, but eventually they would be glad they didn’t have to deal with me anymore.

   I had never been so depressed in my whole life. That’s when I decided to yell at God. A friend of mine had done it. Job in the Bible did it. Why not me, too? And if He was all-knowing, none of it would be a surprise. So I yelled and screamed and cried and begged for answers.

          “Do you hate me, God? Do you enjoy seeing me suffering and in pain? What is the point? Why won’t You make it stop? I’m going to lose my f*cking mind if I have to go one more day like this. You say You love me and this is what I get?”

   No answers came right away. No writing in the sky or translucent beings appeared. I went through more bad days, more questioning, more feelings of self-loathing and hopelessness. But eventually I began to realize some things.

1.       Life doesn’t ever go the way we think it should. It isn’t a Disney movie with 5 musical numbers, a prince, and a happy ending.

2.    God does love me. He gave me hope and people in my life to support me.

3.    My depression has a purpose

     So God didn’t give me an outline explaining the purpose of my depression. He didn’t give me a magic elixir to take it away. Honestly, God showed me that depression is kind of like a superpower. He gives me the strength and resources I need to get through the season and then allows me to use it. Because of my struggle, I am able to see and relate differently. I can reach out to others with depression. I can see the pain in others quicker and empathize in ways I couldn’t before. I feel and see the world so differently.

     Did any of this make the day-to-day battle with depression easier? Well, yes and no. My symptoms and reactions are still the same. Sometimes I still face the dark, yawning chasm. I still experience feelings of self-loathing from time to time and still occasionally yell at God (He doesn’t mind). But the one thing that makes it all worth it is knowing that I can use my story to spread hope and encouragement and remind others that they are loved and valued and on purpose. They are not alone. That is a fight worth fighting.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking I shall not live in vain.” ~Emily Dickinson