The Post I Swore I Would Never Make

Many months ago, before this blog began, I hardly even knew what a blog was. I never imagined myself giving updates on my life to anyone who wants to see them. In fact, I can't even remember when I learned what a blog actually was. Even after I began posting on blogger, there were definitely certain things I would limit. Yes, this is, in a way, a journal. But it's not my journal - at least, not exclusively. This is your journal. It's here for you to read and to learn from. It's here so that those who love and care for me can keep tabs with what is going on in my life.


I would have never imagined that I would write this post - not even for the quite small audience who reads my posts. Typically when I am around people or writing to people, I put on some mask: I either lighten up and act like everything is okay or I grab some ashes and rub them under my eyes to show sorrow (not literally). When I'm expressive, I'm expressive. Many times I have tried to heavily confine such openness. At times it is a good thing; other times, not so much. But here I want you to see that I, just like you, am a poor, sad, sick soul in need of every ounce of mercy and grace and love I can grasp.


Here is the explanation. (All of this information has been gathered from my Gmail journal):
• Started a journal entitled "The Journal of Jon" (Thurs., Sept. 22, 2011)
• Worked my first shift at DQ (Fri., Sept. 23). I was quite excited at the time. Little did I know what would happen to that job.
• Submitted an entry entitled "The Unknown Prayer" (Wed., Oct. 12).
• Continued to see "rays of hope in God's word" and believed that God "[was] not far away" (Wed., Oct. 12).
• Almost was rear-ended by a fast-moving vehicle (Fri., Oct. 14).
• Attended a funeral (Tues., Oct. 18).
• Put in the happiest entry of my journal to date (Mon., Oct 24).


And the ensuing slope:
• "I'm not alright" (Fri., Nov. 4).
• "Distress and depression are still looming around every corner" (Fri., Nov. 11).
• "Today I descended to what may be the very lowest point of my life. My spirit is in ruins; my heart is broken; my hope has run out. Never in my existence have I felt so helpless, so desperate" (Sat., Nov. 12).
• "What heaviness has been resting on my heart today" (Sun., Nov. 13).
• "Dear God - my God - save me from my own sinfulness" (Tues., Nov. 17).
• "I no longer taste any joy" (Tues., Nov. 17).
• "Every trace of joy that I had once known is now all dried up and withered... My body is wasting away; my spirit is broken; my heart is shattered; my world is gone" (Mon., Nov. 28).
• "Yesterday I was too depressed to get out of bed" (Sat., Dec. 10).
• Lost my job (Sat., Dec. 17).
• "When I woke up in the morning the weight of my sin was ever upon me; that sick feeling in my stomach didn't help at all" (Mon., Jan. 2, 2012).
• "Today I felt as though I couldn't talk to anyone at all" (Sat., Jan. 28).
• "For the first time in a long time, I feel alone" (Mon., Feb. 6).
• "I'm constantly distressed (and depressed). I don't love the word as I should. I struggle to pray" (Sun., Mar. 18).
• "When I look at all that is left to do and the issues of love, friendships, and sincerity tugging on me, I become distressed. It is difficult... My thoughts are only evil" (Wed., Apr. 18).


Yet there was always that ray of hope. Even when all was lost, there was one thing that remained. And I journaled about it, posted about it, prayed about it, strove for it. At the end of almost every entry that contained some mentioning of depression, there was always something about hope.


And that is why I never thought I would post this: because now I see little hope and I feel alone. After all that has happened, how could I ever move on? (Once I knew the answer to that question.) Distress is so faithful to me.


The hurt is heavy.


The pain is deep.


And I feel lost.