I’ve rewritten this post countless times, but as my therapist says, sometimes the hardest stories are the ones that need to be told most.
Three years ago, I had what looked like the perfect life – successful career, beautiful house, 15-year marriage. Then, in one afternoon, I discovered everything was built on lies. The divorce that followed wasn’t just the end of a marriage; it was the shattering of my entire world.
Depression didn’t creep in slowly – it crashed over me like a tsunami. I took leave from work, barely left my bed, and lost touch with friends who tried to help. Rock bottom came when I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled at my own reflection.
Then came the day I had to clean out Mom’s house (she passed two years before the divorce). In her jewelry box, wrapped in tissue paper, was her Miraculous Medal. Mom wore it every day of her 40-year battle with chronic illness, never losing her faith despite the pain.
I started wearing it, not out of deep faith at first, but because it was hers. Gradually, it became part of my healing routine. Every morning, I hold it during meditation. When anxiety hits at work, I touch it and remember to breathe. During therapy sessions, it gives me strength to face painful truths.
Is it a magical cure? No. I still take my prescribed medication. I still attend therapy. I still have bad days. But the medal reminds me of Mom’s strength, of generations of women who faced darkness and chose to keep believing in light.
Today, I’m back at work, leading our department’s mental health initiative. I’ve rebuilt friendships and made new ones. I’m dating again (slowly and cautiously). Most importantly, I’m learning that healing isn’t linear, and that’s okay.
To anyone in their own darkness: you are not alone. Faith, whether in God, in yourself, or in the simple possibility of better days ahead, can be a powerful lantern in the dark.
With hope and healing,
HealingHeart