A lot of times, growing up means entering new seasons and leaving old ones. It means starting new relationships and losing other ones, and with loss comes emotions.

As I was writing about entering new seasons, I stumbled across an iPhone note that I wrote earlier this year. The note came a few months after the loss of a relationship. Time had passed with good people around me; but out of nowhere, the sadness of this loss hit me like a jack in the box.

I couldn’t share the writing then. In some ways, it felt too raw. But I feel able to share it now because I know that the sadness and the hurting heart didn’t last forever.

It’s a conglomeration of thoughts. Upon first reading, it didn’t seem tidy enough to publish, but then I remembered that life is messy. Adulting is messy. And I’m content with others seeing a bit of that mess if it means that you can relate to the messiness and know your feelings don’t make you crazy.


May 14th, 2016

Today I feel sad. I cried myself to sleep last night, and I feel like every thought keeps tears on the corner of my eyes. Fragility is at its peak, and it seems that with one shake, the tears will fall out. 

More than sad, today I feel foolish. Six months have passed into this new season, so I thought I was done with the crying.

Tim Keller said that we spend the majority of our depression being depressed about the fact that we are depressed. I guess he’s right.

Sometimes, I think my (skewed) idea of Christianity keeps me from being free to be where I am at.

When I feel heartbroken, the enemy whispers lies into my head that I am pathetic for being heartbroken even though so much time has passed– that I am foolish for crying over a boy who let me go months ago. 

If I was doing things right, shouldn’t I have healed by now? The enemy tells me that my healing process is taking too long and this lends itself to more shame. 

Today, I texted a mentor of mine and told her how I was feeling. She replied,  “Don’t feel dumb, don’t feel foolish. Let God into those places and let him have all your emotions. Trust that he is with you and knows your heart. I am confident of his plans for you – you are loved, and I will keep praying.”

She is confident for me today even though I am not. I am happy for friends who have faith for the times that mine is weak. 

I know (well today I choose to hope) that someday* I will look back and say God has restored my heart. I will find that He has brought me from mourning into joy. I’ll look back and remember the days when I would cry on my way home thinking the tears would never subside. I’ll remember the days when I thought I would be stuck in this default mode forever.

Today is not that day, and I’m okay with that (at least I’m learning to be). I’m learning that it’s okay to be sad today. That is where my heart is at, and I am going to allow myself to feel that. No, I won’t wallow, but I’ll give myself grace instead of listening to the voice that tells me the state of my heart is wrong for feeling this way.

God knows my heart. He knows the triggers. He knows why it is hurting even though I can’t pinpoint the reason. He understands me when I don’t understand myself. The days that I feel confused about why I find myself crying, He knows, and He wants me to accept that so that He can fix it.

When the enemy tells me I am moving backwards and living in the past, Jesus tells me He is bringing things to the surface so that He can be a holistic healer. He is telling me to be where I am, to accept it, to breathe, and to drop it at His feet, without feelings of shame or foolishness. 

I smile as I write this, believing that one day, I will look back on this writing and say, “See, Calah. The pain didn’t last forever.” But I also find peace in knowing that there is no correct formulated timeline for when that day should be. And recognizing that is grace for myself. 

When I tell myself I should be over it, when my friends say I should be over it, when my dad says I should be over it, Jesus says I should be still. I shouldn’t manipulate my heart into feeling okay. I shouldn’t brainwash my mind into healing.

Today, I’m not okay. But I’m okay with not being okay because admitting that is the only means to ever actually being okay.


It’s okay not to be okay. There is no formulated timeline for your healing. So if you are in the sad season, I promise, it is pruning you, and it won’t last forever. Be kind to yourself. Be where you are. Be messy. Let yourself feel and know that you are not crazy. You are human, and that is a beautiful thing to behold.

*This day is here. As I reread my writing, I am smiling because God is faithful, and time is a sweet, sweet healer.