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11/30/2021

Crisis of Faith

Recently, I went through a period that was a "crisis of faith," I'd say. Truly, I wasn't sure about this earth or anyone around me. Nothing, no one, no scene was movie-worthy. With all of my being, I didn't want to be here anymore. I've had other times like this, and I've trooped through it, but this one hit me with a force; it seemed urgent, powerful, deadly, and mean. At one point, I thought to myself, I know what Satan is. Satan is me, this, these thoughts, right now.

I cried, I raged, I walked, I carried on. And although they were fierce, I began to half-listen to the dark thoughts in my mind. And then I told people. I told them the stark nature of the morose details. I told people I could trust. I spat it all out. I told them every little dirty secret. I spared no thought or bloody scene. And I took the right actions, despite my wild thinking. For me, that's one of the hardest experiences in life -- to act right, even though the thinking is tumultuous. It takes courage, strength. It's a beast.

Ironically, while I was thinking this way, stuck in my black hole, I went to some movies. I went to groups. I saw doctors. I went for unenjoyable walks. I took pictures. And I helped out on a Suicide Awareness Walk. The whole time I was there, I had the thoughts, probably strikingly similar to those who were actually gone. And then I looked around, and I saw the families, the mothers, the fathers, the sisters, the brothers, the friends. I saw people of all sexual orientations, all races, and on and on. I saw the care, the love, the...dare I say it...hope.

That's what it takes sometimes...putting one foot in front of the other, regardless of the thoughts. I've been through a lot of difficult things in this life, but for me, the hardest trials have definitely involved those within my own mind.

I'm a 47-year-old woman with a master's degree, with four published books, no kids, never been married, working at a drug store, facing several health issues head-on, with scant possessions, and I have no idea what to do with these bills. At the moment, I have stitches in my face.

I guess I could look at it like that.

But after all of this worry, regret, self-loathing, and pain, one morning, something changed. Something changed dramatically. My focus shifted. Suddenly, I woke up, I held my head high, and I realized this: I am a fucking warrior. Only a warrior can act right while feeling so dark, continuing to fight against two chronic, lifelong illnesses with all her might. Only a warrior can choose to live in spite of internal Hell. Only a warrior can stay sober one day at a time and prevail until she sees the light.

And the light, indeed, comes. It always returns. Just hang on.

C.A. MacConnell