I Don't Belong Here

Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays. Of course, when my daughter was growing up, it was even more special. Every parent enjoys watching the excitement in their child's eyes as they unwrap each unknown or unexpected gift. When my daughter was two years old, she was sick all night on Christmas Eve. On Christmas morning, she wasn’t in the best of moods. She sat in her little wooden rocking chair with her arms crossed and head down. Her lip puckered out in anger. I tried to sweet-talk her into opening a present. I had purchased toys I knew she would love. I had wrapped them up and put on a big bow. The stack of presents was all around her on either side, but she wasn’t budging. The rest of the family, myself included, went on opening our presents and listening to the Christmas music play in th e background. Soon enough, the anger melted away, and she was down on the floor ripping the paper off one package after another. I was not going to force her to receive the gift...

Content Warning: Comments on Suicide This morning in church, my pastor commented on how much God loves us and wants us. Immediately, there was this tightness in my chest. I could feel the tears welling up in my throat. I turned my face down to my notebook and refocused my attention on drawing random lines. It was too hard to listen to those words. I felt like jumping up out of my seat and dashing for the back door. I needed to escape, but I didn’t know why. I knew in my head that what he was saying was true, but my heart fought against it.  Since I can remember, I have wholeheartedly believed I am unloved and unwanted. That has become my resounding truth. It’s as if it is woven into my DNA. Every single little molecule that makes me me says that God’s love is not really for me, and if it is, it is limited. What is that nonsense exactly? It’s a lie. It is a lie from the enemy from the very beginning, and unfortunately, many of my experiences in childhood confirmed that lie instead o...

Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation One night, when I was sixteen years old, I was driving home from work. I had a part-time job at McDonald’s in Somerset, PA. My parents and I lived about twenty-five minutes away in a little coal mining town. From Somerset, there was a decline down one small mountainside and then up the side of another to reach Acosta, where I lived. It was a small town on top of the mountain with only a few streets, our church, and a post office. We had fewer than 200 people in Acosta, making it the smallest place I had ever lived.                                                 Post Office                                            Church and Parsonage I hated my life, I hated it so much. I had already encountered so many painful things. I d...