To My Friend

Dear Friend,

I watched you die today. It didn’t stick though. God saved you once again. How many times is this now? 4? It doesn’t really matter that much. What matters is how angry I am. You talk the talk of someone who wants to heal, but you ignore your words. You want to get better, but you ignore the process. You want to be strong, but you ignore the necessary weakness. I want to grab your shoulders and scream at you ‘can’t you see? Don’t you get it? You are intended! You were designed for this life! Every part of you! Yes- even the part that wants to die! You are chosen! Beloved daughter of the one true king!!! Why can’t you see it?!?!?’

But I can’t. Your eyes are blinded by the darkness of depression. A beast that convinces you that you are nothing, worthless, unworthy, better off dead. So, while you can’t fight, I am going to tell you two things. These things will hurt. Sting. Stab. Bite. Burn with truth. But they need to be said. Please know, my dear friend, they come from love. From someone who hurts just as bad as you have, someone who has tasted the darkness that consumes and blinds. I hear your cry for help, my sister, and I’m here.

I will not take care of your children if you kill yourself. I am not their mother; you are. And taking care of them is your job.

Most importantly, I will not be your friend if you kill yourself.

These words may hurt, but you need to hear them. You need to know that as long as you choose life, I will be there to support you. I will fight alongside of you. I will hold you up when you can’t. I will pray beside you when you are surrounded. I will drag you to appointments, or take care of your kids when you go. Death, my lovely friend is not an answer to your problem. It only adds to the problem. Living is the only way to conquer this beast.

He sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died”  1 Kings 19:4

Get up. Eat. Your journey will be long and hard. I can’t tell you once the choice to live has been made that the beast is conquered. I can tell you that you will have an army fighting the fight that you cannot. This fight is not yours, dear friend. It isn’t mine either. This is God’s fight. One that He fights for you willingly. Every. Single. Day. Choose living and it is done. You don’t have to fight anymore.

Then the angel of the Lord came up again and touched him and said, “Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be too much for you.”  1 Kings 19:7

Get up. Eat. Your journey will be long and hard. Death is an easy choice. Death offers you nothing. Life is hard. The hardest choice you will ever make. It offers you everything. Every day you choose to be here, God will show up. All around you, He will show up. I promise you. Every day you look for God, He will be there. And I will be right there beside you to remind you where to look.


Dear Friend,

I know it isn’t easy to have a friend like me. I know I have taken your time, time that would have been spent with your family, time that would have been spent doing something that was about you, time that you will never get back. This disease is selfish. This disease takes and takes. It has cost you things that I cannot repay. It has cost me things that I will never get back. It has nearly cost me my life.


I tried for so long to want to live. I played games in my mind and made promises to myself with the hope that I wouldn’t give in. You see it wasn’t so much that I wanted to die; it was that I just couldn’t bear to live anymore. It wasn’t that I wanted to leave my kids without a mommy; it was that I thought I wasn’t the mommy that they needed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to fight the dark; it was that the dark seemed invincible.


You knew that everything was not okay and I knew that you knew that something wasn’t right. What you may not know is how long I sat in the car. You may not realize how I wrestled, how I wished to see another way. In the end I made a choice. I chose to follow through; I chose to give in; I chose to surrender to the dark.


I made the choice, but then I made another choice. I showed up at your door, with no explanation, just a blurted out, “Take me to the hospital”.  You didn’t question, you didn’t criticize, you simply drove the truck. As we neared the hospital, I confessed what I had done. The words stuck, they did not want to come out. I expected judgment, but you showed compassion. I expected you to leave, but you stayed by my side.


My friend. I wish that I could take it back. I wish I had fought harder to live. I wish that I had called you first instead of giving in. It isn’t easy to have a friend like me, but still you are my friend. I could never thank you enough. I cannot give you the time back. I cannot erase the things I’ve done. So friend, who stood with me through hell please know this: though you may not understand why I made the choice I did, know that today, I chose to live; today I chose to fight; today I hold on to the Light; and today I will reach out for help instead.

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