Disclaimer:
I’m writing this from the thick of it—not from the healed place, not from the mountaintop, but from the messy middle. I don’t have a testimony yet, but I believe I will. This is raw. It’s vulnerable. And it’s personal. But I’m sharing it because I believe if God revealed it, He intends to heal it. This post is for me—but it’s also for you. The woman who’s been sad for so long she stopped asking why. The one who thinks she’s just depressed. I pray this gives you language and hope.
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Since I was a teenager, I’ve felt this deep pit of emptiness. Not sadness exactly—empty. I didn’t have the language for depression back then, so “empty” is what I called it. As I got older, I just said I felt sad often, but I couldn’t figure out why. I assumed maybe it was because I wasn’t going to church. But I’ll never forget what my husband’s uncle said
“That emptiness you feel is God pulling at you. Only He can fill that void.”
Not long after, I gave my life to Christ for real. I understood what I was doing. I was sincere. But even after salvation, I still felt a heaviness I couldn’t shake. It was deeper than sadness. It was like a blanket that never came off. I felt lonely, misunderstood, and tired. Just tired.
So I tried to numb it. I got addicted to taking cold medicine that would make me sleep—just so I wouldn’t have to feel anything. I tried therapy. I tried deliverance. I received prophetic words. I prayed. I fasted. I’d feel better for a little while… but that sadness always came back.
I was convinced this was depression. And honestly, it looked like it. I watched my mom struggle with depression often—attempting suicide, always crying. And now here I was… dealing with suicidal ideation, crying for no reason, having high highs and low lows. I started to mirror what I saw in her.
I thought: The doctors were right. This is depression. This is just my story now.
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But then something happened.
I wasn’t doing anything special. Just sitting. Sad. Again. And out of nowhere I heard the Lord say:
“You are not dealing with depression. You are dealing with deep grief.”
I was shocked. Grief? That didn’t make sense. I hadn’t lost anyone. I associated grief with death. But I couldn’t shake His words. So I started to research it—what grief really is, how it shows up, what it does when you don’t process it.
And it blew my mind.
I learned that when grief goes unacknowledged, it can look like depression. But it’s not the same. Grief masquerades. It hides. It wears costumes. And if we don’t name it properly, we’ll never heal properly. Unprocessed grief—especially the kind you’ve carried for years—can show up as emotional numbness, unexplained anger, a constant heaviness, or the feeling that you’ve lost yourself. It can make it hard to enjoy life, stay present, or even dream about the future. Grief doesn’t go away with time—it waits to be felt, named, and released.
That’s what God was trying to show me: “You’ve been carrying grief, not just sadness. Not just depression. GRIEF.”
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And when I finally sat with it—when I let the Holy Spirit start unpacking it—I realized I had been grieving for years without knowing it.
Here’s what I’m grieving:
- My loss of innocence
- The mother I could’ve been without the stench of trauma
- The wife I would’ve been without sexual abuse
- The version of myself that should’ve been loved and nurtured
- The freedom I never got to have because I was always in survival mode
- The father I never had and the mother who mentally wasn’t safe
- The childhood I didn’t get to enjoy
- The identity that was shaped more by pain than purpose
- Even the struggle to see God as Father because of how broken my view of “father” was
This is symbolic death. Grief that isn’t tied to funerals, but still feels like dying.
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And let me tell you—naming it grief changed everything.
I started to pray differently. I gave myself more grace. I stopped trying to fix myself and started to surrender my emotions to God. I started saying, “Lord, help me grieve what I never even knew I lost.”
If I had continued calling it depression, I would’ve kept treating the wrong wound. But now? I’m starting to let God sit with me in the sadness. I’m learning that there is a lament in my soul that needs to come out. Because even if I didn’t know my soul needed that clarity, God did.
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And through all of this, one scripture has become so real to me:
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.”
I used to quote that like it was just a cute promise. But now it’s personal. God has shown me that He wasn’t frustrated at me for naming it wrong—He loved me too much to let me stay in ignorance. He saw I wouldn’t come to this understanding on my own, so He met me in the dark and spoke truth.
I sought the Lord, and He heard, and He answered.
Thats how i know He’s still near. That’s how i know i still have hope.
To the woman reading this who feels numb, lost, or like she’s not herself… I feel you. You are not numb because you want to be. You are not heartless. You are not going to succumb to depression. You are not going to forever be traumatized. You are not beyond repair.
Your heart is tender right now. And that’s okay.
You’ve carried so much. You’ve lost so much. But today I pray God gives you the courage to name it. Not suppress it. Not spiritual bypass it. Just bring it to Him—bloody, broken, honest.
He doesn’t want your pretty prayers. He wants your bloody heart.
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Right now, I’m learning to surrender things I never thought I’d let go of. I’m releasing my need to control how healing has to look. I’m letting go of how I perceive myself and how others perceive me. I’ve realized… I am needy.
I’m needy for the presence of God. Needy for His healing. Needy for His deliverance. And that’s okay. That’s holy.
Every time a loss surfaces, I’m learning to hand it right back to God. Because I don’t have to carry what He died to heal.
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If you’ve made it this far, here’s my prayer for you:
I pray this stirred your faith. I pray it calmed those silent fears. I pray it reminded you that you’re not hopeless. That joy is still your portion. That healing is still possible.
And above all, I pray you let the kindness of God reveal your grief—so He can heal it.
Now is not the time to shrink. Now is not the time to pretend you’re okay.
Now is the time to come boldly to His throne of grace, to let Him mend your broken heart—just like He’s doing with mine.
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