I grew up in a Christian household. It was church not only on Sundays, but Wednesday and Friday nights as well. 

I believed with a fervent passion that comes with being sheltered from everything but church. Everything would be fine as long as God and I were square.

My mother’s  philosophy  was impressed upon me from early on: If you are sad, pray. If you are angry, pray. If you are happy, give thanks in prayer. Everything in life was a direct reflection of the quality of my relationship with God.

I was told God brings joy, so I told myself I was joyful. God heals, I convinced myself I could heal my deep sadness by prayer. 

If I was still sad, I wasn’t praying enough. 

Fast forward to now and I am no longer a Christian. I look back and want so badly to tell that lost teenage girl what’s really going on. 

It’s not from a lack of disciplined and passionate prayer that I was sad and down so often. I didn’t fail as a Christian. 

In reality, Christianity failed me.

It’s discouraging to know that there are those out there that believe the solution to their mental illness could be solved by a simple belief, and that they aren’t serious enough…or that a divine being would allow them to feel this way. 

My hope is someone like me, reads this and can understand a little more about their mental health…& that they can find some help outside of the restrictions of a religious belief. 

Mental health is a real thing. 

And there are real treatments. 

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