Okay, it’s time for me to be honest, like really honest. I have been struggling. I’ve mentioned that a little before. I’m a college student on a medium size campus. So it’s good for walking and running. But running can have its drawbacks, especially on a mostly empty stomach – it wasn’t that I didn’t have food available; I just chose not to eat it. I do this thing where some days I switch into stress eating (so overeating) sometimes and barely eating anything other times; other days I am fine and eat normally.
A while ago, I did just that. I ran. On an almost empty stomach. So my stomach is churning and I haven’t eaten and I’m sprinting. Bad choice. But not my worst decision that day. I ran for a while, maybe 10-15 minutes. I took a few breaks in that time period, even telling someone where I was… but I didn’t tell her how bad things were. She was going through some stuff, but I have a pretty large support group. There are several people I couldn’t asked for help. But I didn’t. Another bad decision. Anyways, after running, I walked around for a little bit and then sat on this retaining wall that’s like 3 feet high. I sat and stood up, paced and sat down, and repeated this once or twice. I spent this time praying, internally screaming at God, thinking, crying, pleading for God to do something or give me strength or send someone to help me. I was too afraid to ask for help. After at least 15 minutes of this, I decided I was going to walk to a place less than a quarter mile away. Once I got to that designated location, I would choose my fate. I would choose to keep fighting, plan a date to um end everything, or end it all that night. I told God that if He didn’t come through, I was giving up my fight either that night or on a later date.
A friend was walking and saw me and invited me to her dorm and I’m still alive, obviously. I found out later that she wasn’t even planning on coming back at that time but she somehow did. Neither of us really understand what happened. But what I do know is that less than a minute after crying out to God, a friend found me. I don’t know for sure what I would’ve done that night, but I probably would’ve picked a date or that very night.
God came through. God heard my cry. As bad as that night was, I think that night was the night I decided I wanted to get better. But I was scared that God wasn’t big enough to give me the strength to keep fighting. And so I cried out to God. And He heard me. He heard me because He is there. He is always there. And He is big enough to give me the strength to fight.
That night, I wanted to give up the pain and the brokenness. But I also would be giving up the joy and love and shelter and peace and everything beautiful I had found in God. I wanted to give up the good things that had happened, are happening, and will happen. So I will keep fighting, because I made a promise that I would continue my fight if He came through that day. I will keep fighting for those I would leave behind, for the beautiful memories yet to come, and for the God who created me with a beautiful purpose that I might understand better some day.