I’ve learned something about myself this year. 

I need writing like I need air to breathe. It’s how I process the world, my world, and the infinite and unseen world of faith. It’s the blessing, the conduit, the tool God gave me to explore what’s happening inside of me and how I’m relating to the world. Any day I put off a writing session, I’m not just holding out on any potential readers of a blog post, I’m denying myself to use this gift and find healing. Simply put, I love it. I just really love it. 

Although, some days are a fight to write. 

Some days my soul groans, my body drags, and my mind glitches. Some days it’s a win to get one foot in front of the other, to make it through the day, to keep going. If that is you, know I understand so deeply. I know what it feels like to have a cloud—a whole storm system, really—of depression raging in, above, and around you. I know what the darkness feels like, and I know the temptation to give up, to stay in bed, to let go of all responsibilities. 

And as I’m writing to you today, I’m through most of the storm that attempted to suck any and all life out of me, threatening not just to hurt me, but the people closest to me. 

I have some words I want to impart to you. Maybe you’ve heard them before. Maybe someone has said them without this experience or full understanding of the valley you’re in. Maybe you’ve seen them on well-meaning albeit cheesy Pinterest icons. You can trust, however, that these words come from the trenches of my own dark, eerie, shadowed alley of depression. So take heart. This isn’t a cheery platitude. It’s just true. 

It won’t be like this forever. 

There are bright, sunshiney days ahead. 

You are more than this season. 

It doesn’t define you. 

It’s actually a tool God will use in your life for good, someday. 

You don’t have to fix yourself—you can’t, really. 

You can, however, support yourself in small ways that turn out to be monumental. 

You can walk around the block.

Wash your hair. 

Dice some bell peppers. 

Make a playlist. Or listen to one you love. 

Make your bed. 

Text a friend. 

Create something with your hands. 

Clean your home. 

Do one thing that fills your soul. 

It may not heal everything, but it will help, if only for a second, remind you that you are a beloved, functioning, capable, worthy child of God. And in Jesus’ name, you have authority over your life and time. May a second of it be used to take a step forward today. Because that’s all life and Kingdom-building is—one small step at a time, one after another.

It matters. But more than that, you matter. And I promise you—I hold-me-to-it-forever-pinky-promise—that you won’t feel like this forever. Here’s to the small steps and the God who helps us take them. Amen.