Beauty for ashes

I’ve been struggling through the past 4 days. At times, I feel blatantly out of place; other times I feel way too comfortable here.

I wrote that last week while I was visiting my father’s house up in Western New York. I love seeing and spending time with my family and friends up there, but I generally feel very weighed down while I am in Buffalo.

Point blank — I get depressed.

It’s almost like I can feel the blackness of it wrapping around me, squeezing and choking out my life.

I know there are sparkles of beauty inside screaming for a tiny bit of the stage, but the hideous darkness snuffs them out. Sometimes I can see the darkness in a room, lurking in a corner, blacker than night. It’s like looking into Satan’s throat, fangs, hulking breath included. It’s just so real.

Sometimes I think there’s a curse on that place. The whole place, not just my dad’s house. In just the 5 days I was there, I had more depressive episodes (though brief) than I have had in months. I could feel myself being backed into it, knowing full well what was coming.

Through prayer and self-talk, I was able to claw my way out of these tiny episodes, but the fighting left me worn out spiritually and emotionally. I know that somewhere in the decay of that depression was beauty, diamonds in the ashes, revival in the death. This time, it was strong enough to pull me out of the sinkhole.

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