I Almost Gave Up, But God Stepped In

"I was ready to let go, but God took hold of me. Depression didn't kill me, It introduced me to the God who heals."

I didn't plan to share this. Honestly, I fought it. But something has been stirring in me––a holy nudge I couldn't ignore. It's coming from the rising weight of seeing too many stories––especially of young whose lives have bee taken by depression and suicide. It hurts deeply. Because I know that place. I know how loud the darkness can get.

And maybe, just maybe, someone out there needs to know they're not alone. That there is still light ahead. That God is still near. So this is me being vulnerable. This is me being obedient. And trusting that someone needs this more than I need to protect myself.

There are parts of my story I never thought I'd have to share again.

Corners of my mind I was too afraid to visit, let alone bring in to the light. Depression. Anxiety. Hearing voices that weren't there. Questioning reality.

I've battled those dark places––the kind where the deceiver whispers lies that sound like truth. He places a mirror in front of you, distorted and cruel, pointing out every flaw, every failure. He tells you, "This is who you are."

But that's not who I am. That's not who you are.

I remember calling out to my Father. And He was there––right by my side, fighting for the parts of me I thought were too far gone.

Let me take it back to the root of it all.

For a long time, I believed my depression came from growing up without a father. I thought not having a two-parent household was what made me feel incomplete. As a child, I would watch other kids with both parents and feel a deep ache. I even envied my siblings–they have a father, and here i was left with questions.

But I did have one steady presence in my life: my papa. He loved me deeply. But when he died, it shattered something in me. I remember feeling like God took the only man who truly loved me. And in my pain, I wanted to go too.

But as I got older, I began to realize the pain ran deeper. It wasn't just about loss or abandonment. It was about not knowing I had been born into a broken world–into sin. And let's be honest...who tells a child that?

I thought the absence of an earthly father was the cause of my emptiness. But truth is––I didn't yet know my Heavenly Father. And that's the wound that hurts the most.

I mistook absence for rejection.

I mistook grief for punishment.

I mistook silence for being forgotten.

But God never forgot me.

Even as I sat in the dark for years. Even when some family members I had thought I had lost my mind. Even when others tried to keep me bound, small, or silent.

There were countless times I tried to take my life.

Self-medication. Intoxication. Even weaponry.

I remember the day I held a gun to my head, ready to end it all. The pressure, the pain, the unbearable weight––I couldn't take it anymore. I felt everything was attacking me all at once. I cried out to God. And before I could pull the trigger, He covered me with sleep.

He intervened. He shielded me.

Even in my darkest moment, He still had a plan.

Depression, anxiety, schizophrenia––they're the enemy's playground. The more you believe the lies, the more power they hold. But here's the truth: they only have the power you give them.

The enemy tried to rob me of my joy, my mind, my life. But God said, "Not so."

I'm still here. Not because I'm strong––but because God is.

And even now, I realize I'm still healing. Even when I feel like the wound has closed, something will stir and remind me of what God has brought me through. I sit back, overwhelmed, not by sorrow––but by His goodness.

He is forever faithful.

Sharing this part of me with the world to see, scares the crap out of me. It exposes parts of me I've tried to hide. But with God, I know I can do anything––because He gives me strength.

And I'm reminded of what Jesus said in John 15:18-19: "If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first." We weren't made to blend in. We were chosen out of the world––to be set apart. So even when sharing feels uncomfortable, I know I was never meant to be silent. My story isn't for me––it's for His glory.

Even writing this brings tears to my eyes. But maybe that's the point. Healing doesn't always come loud. Sometimes it comes in quiet moments when we finally tell the truth.

You're not too far gone.

You're not crazy.

You're not forgotten.

You matter.

God is still writing your story.

So hold on. Don't give in. Don't give up.

YAHWEH IS NOT FINISHED WITH YOU.

Here are some Scriptures to Hold on to:

• "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

  ––Psalm 34:18

• "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord."

  ––Psalm 118:17

• "We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ."

  ––2 Corinthians 10:5

• "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me."

  ––Psalm 23:4

• "Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me."

  ––Psalm 27:10

To the one reading this:

If you're struggling in silence, God sees you. I see you. Please don't carry the weight alone. There is still light ahead. You ate not beyond healing. You are not without hope. God is not finished with you.

A prayer for you:

God, I lift up the one reading this right now. You know their pain, their questions, their tears. Remind them that they are not alone. Wrap them in Your presence and peace. Break every lie the enemy has spoken over them. Replace every negative thought and restore it with positivity. Let them see Your hand––even in the darkest places. And when they feel like giving up, breathe new life into them.

In Jesus name, Amen.