The Big Lie

NOTE: This article was originally authored in June 2022, when I was 23; I am now going on 25. I had originally been on the fence about publishing it, considering it to be inappropriate. But this is part of my story. I’m grateful to say that this chapter of my life has closed thanks to Yah, yet I hope my experience will be of value to you, dear reader.

Some days I find myself completely despondent, isolated, and detached. I like to think it comes from menstruation, since this mood often accompanies my period. It isn’t outlandish to credit PMS for these feelings, and I’m sure most women might agree.

But for some reason, I also feel as though it’s much deeper.

I’ve spoken about my depression here, and how rough of an upbringing I had. When you don’t really get to experience a childhood, a sense of longing always grows with you. Longing for more playdates, more bubbles, more cake, more cuddles. A longing for bedtime storytime. A longing for long thirsty days in the summer sun. A longing to be held by your parents.

And when you’re someone who has this longing, the world wants to take advantage of you.

The world continually feeds you this idea that you can find joy, love and peace in experiences created in the now. I think this applies to anyone with some form of depression, no matter the reason. In my case, my longing for childhood, the big lie is that I can do things I love and enjoy and I will be okay.

But I’m not. I’m never okay.

No matter how much I blog, podcast, play video games. No matter how many books I read. No matter how long I sit in nature. No matter how many times I eat my favorite food or watch my favorite movies. There is no amount of bubble baths, face masks, or pedicures that can fix this for me.

And some days, I even feel as though there’s no amount of prayer that can fix it either.

Sometimes it’s natural to have such low moments, especially as a woman. Our emotions can be extreme, intense and sensational. They aren’t always pleasant. And I’ve come to both understand and accept that often recurring negative emotions are a reflection of a greater issue that needs solving– not ignoring.

In confronting these emotions, it’s very easy to think of them as though they’re unnecessary blockers to growth and wisdom. But there’s a reason YAHUAH gave us such strong feeling, and it’s our responsibility to seek Him for wisdom regarding this matter.

One thing He’s shown me is that I am lacking in peace, joy and love in these intensely dark moments of longing. I’m fed all these messages from the world about meditating for peace, doing something I love to find joy, or even nurturing something to feel love.

But the Scripture is clear: love, joy and peace are fruits of the Holy Spirit. They come from no other place. These fruits blossom on one tree and one tree only.

Happiness can come from doing wonderful things. Happiness can come from thinking great thoughts. Happiness can come from being affectionate. But joy is a fruit of the Spirit. Love is a fruit of the Spirit. Peace is a fruit of the Spirit.

The Holy Spirit can certainly be present when you meditate, do your hobbies, or nurture something. But these activities don’t always lead to peace. There is a constant insistence from the world that if only we would make time for ourselves, if only we would find ourselves, if only we would take care of ourselves and have boundaries, we would have peace.

What happens when those things don’t work? When you buy the journals, go to the retreats, follow that workout routine, drink your water, and get your 8 hours of sleep? Then what?

I’m not quite sure. Even after fasting, praying, and abstaining from various vices, I find myself facing this longing. A longing for a life that does not and never will belong to me. A life unplagued by my past sins. A life unplagued by oppression or colonialism. A life unplagued by human nature.

It hurts me to see this life so vividly in my head yet not be able to reach it. It hurts me even more that I spend so much time thinking about it and imagining it with the hopes that that version of me is at peace, has joy, and feels deeply loved.

I daydream about a version of myself that grew up with her childhood in tact and undisturbed. I fantasize about what her life would look like now at 23 (my age at the time of this writing). I wonder what her family would look like. Would her education be different? Would she not have daddy issues? Would she be fervent for Yah?

I think of her everyday. I wish I was her. I want her idealized life to be mine so badly. But no only does she not exist, her nonexistent life is pure fiction and would never be reality anyway. There’s no amount of obedience, prayer, or good behavior that can ensure our lives will be what we want. Job is a strong example of this.

This is probably my 30th time referring to myself as a female Job on this blog lol. But it’s really how I feel. I see YAHUAH restoring my life and making my latter end better than the former. Still, the longing flares up some days, and I completely retract from the world, my family, and honestly, even from Yah.

Then I have to remind myself its okay for me to cry. It’s okay for me to be sad. It’s okay for me to wonder. Job was not cast away for weeping, questioning, or being stuck to his pile of ashes in depression. The idea is not to force happiness or joy onto myself. The idea is to confront these things, feel them, watch them pass, and do not give them authority to dictate my life.

And whose to say Job never missed his old life? He lost all of his sheep and cattle and all of his children and all of his servants except one. Even though Yahuah restored him, I know he thought about his children, sheep, and servants who were like family. Grief after all is not a one and done thing, but a lifelong scar that we simply learn to live with.

It’s Job’s hope that inspires me. It’s the way he still found YAHUAH worthy of worship despite the crises of his life. I know I’m not alone when I say some days all I have is hope. It worship that keeps me sane. The Holy Spirit that gives me peace.

I’m sure you look at my life from afar, dear reader, and probably assume I have it all together. That my life is perfect and I have perfect happiness. I don’t. I struggle. I mourn. I grieve. I long. I fantasize about what’s not mine. I’m envious about a version of me that has never and will never exist. I weep that I had no control. I feel angered about Yah’s plan for my life some days.

And if you feel the same, I’m here to tell you 2 things:

1. It’s okay to feel this way.
2. It’s okay to do nothing about it.

Yahuah’s work is already done. We don’t need to journal, jog, or meditate to feel better. We don’t have to make sense of it. We don’t have to go to therapy. It’s okay to feel this way, and simply say “I give it to you, O Gracious God.”