Before You Read

This post is a little different. It begins as a letter I wrote myself a while ago to the version of myself who had lost her faith; lonely, anxious, and unsure if God still saw her. It’s raw and unfiltered because that’s where the healing started. The second half of this post reflects on how I found my way back, one small step at a time.

If you’ve ever felt distant from your faith, your community, or even yourself, this piece is for you. It’s a reminder that your relationship with God doesn’t have to look perfect to be real—and that even in the darkest moments, you are never too far gone to be found.

To the girl who has lost her faith,

“How many times are you going to throw your Bible across the room and yell?”

It’s been 56 days since your first anxiety attack, and let’s be honest—your anxiety isn’t getting better. You haven’t prayed. You yell at your Bible more than you ask for help. What’s going on? Or maybe the real question is… do you feel like God has forgotten you?

You keep asking why you’re in this place. Why the man you love treats you the way he does. Why you feel isolated in a new city. Why your friends are few and work feels heavy. Darkness has started to feel like home.

You fooled your family and friends around your thirtieth birthday, but you can’t fool me—your inner voice. You are really sad, and you’re starting to become resentful. Why?

Why can’t you listen to gospel music anymore without turning it off halfway through? Why can’t you welcome the Spirit, even when you try? Why aren’t you talking to someone? You’ve been here before—the last time, it landed you in the hospital, wearing a mask of “I’m fine.”

What’s going on?

(whispers) I’m tired. I’m just really tired. God told me to come to this new city. I did the work. And now I feel alone. I can’t stop worrying. I’m scared.

God already knows that. So do I. You can’t hide in fear and sleep until it gets better. You have to take a step forward and ask for help.

Yes, people failed you before. I get that. You came from a church that judged you when their hearts should’ve been good. You were an altar server, you went to Sunday school, you respected the Sabbath, you prayed every morning and every night.

But now—now you’re an adult, and you have to build a relationship with God that isn’t based on someone else’s routine. One where shame and comparison do not exist.

Depression clouds that possibility, but God is still here; yes even in the nor’easter, in the silence, in the moment you turn off Maverick City and curse. He’s still here when you’re sliding down the wall in tears.

I need you to believe again, because keeping this all inside is slowly killing you.

You can’t stay in the dark. We don’t hide—we create, we reinvent. You will smile again. You will walk in faith again. You will believe in Him again.”

What Faith Looked Like When I Lost Mine

I wrote that letter to myself during a season when I couldn’t even tell you what day it was. I had stopped writing. I had stopped believing. I was cocooned in loneliness and didn’t know what to do next.

Then one random day in March, I was invited to church. The worship was loud, the people were full of joy, yet, I still wanted to run. But my feet stood firm. The relationship I once had with God wasn’t there anymore, so I whispered a simple prayer: “Help me.”

One cold afternoon later, a friend mentioned a Christian social club. She knew what I was going through, and even though I wasn’t ready, I decided to show up. Then I showed up the next week, and the next. For a while, I didn’t say much; I just sat in the room.

I didn’t know when I’d return, but I did go back.

My walk in faith found me in one of my darkest periods. It found me when I thought my mind was completely lost. It whispered, “Keep going.”

Coming back to my faith was possible because I took one small step and finally asked for help. If you’ve ever been there too, if you’ve ever felt disconnected from your faith, your community, or yourself; know this: your relationship with God is your own. It’s not meant to be compared, measured, or judged.

It’s yours.

What a blessing it is to be His child and to know that no matter where you were placed, He will still lift you up. God carried me until I was ready to meet Him again in my life.

People sometimes ask, “But what if you were too hurt?”
That’s real. But here’s what I know, one morning, after months of numbness, I woke up and was simply excited to make coffee again.

I’m a year older now because I went to the doctor and asked for medicine.
I’m a year older now because I said yes to that Christian social group.
I’m a year older now because I became more comfortable with light than darkness.

It took one step. Just one.

And yes, I grew up Catholic, but now I find peace under the wider umbrella of Christianity. I place my hands on the hem of His garment and praise Him for never forgetting me.

Because God always goes back for the one—the one who wandered, the one who doubted, the one who stopped believing. “If a man has 100 sheep, but 1 of the sheep gets lost, he will leave the other 99 sheep on the hill. He will go to look for the lost sheep” (Matthew 18:12).

And that one was me.

You will always be worth the return .

from my writing corner with love,

Teish

Want to talk more? Email at teish@adoptedblackgirl.com