Hello, Reddit.
I was raised by two Christian parents. My mother is a relatively apathetic Lutheran with roots in the old Church of Sweden, whereas my father is a devout Catholic.
By the age of 12, however, I had abandoned my religion in favor of atheism. Of course, I was twelve, so I had to act like a pseudo-intellectual prick when discussing my atheism, acting as if my fondness of Richard Dawkins gave me every right to develop a superiority complex. My ego was large, and my misconceptions of religion larger, but that soon ended.
By the time I entered high school, I mellowed out and abandoned anti-theism. While accepting of the religious, I was still completely atheistic myself, and highly skeptical.
Fast forward to fall of 2015. 16 years old, confused, and severely severely depressed. See, my clinical depression has been with me since the age of 10, but last fall, it worsened into some festering disease, a depression that consumed my livelihood. The misery soon turned into desperation, and I looked towards suicide. I had lost friends, betrayed the trust of family members, and much more because of my mental health, and sought nothing more than death. I didn't believe in an afterlife, nor did I want to. I just wanted the soul crushing darkness of my depression to come to a screeching halt, even if it meant death.
So, in late January, I hopped in my car, and drove. Prior to this, I had attempted suicide by drinking windex, but that attempt was futile. This, I figured, was a plan that would work. After all, I was driving full speed to a rural Arizonan bridge. This bridge, which I won't name, is 450 feet tall, and isolated from much of the state. Moving on, it was a Thursday afternoon, and rain was drenching the Phoenix area. It never snows in Phoenix, so I figured it would still be raining when I reached the bridge. It never crossed my mind that the bridge is 2000 feet higher than Phoenix, making the weather substantially colder.
So, once I reached a certain elevation on a rural highway, snow began to fall. I paid no mind to it, and drove on. Then, the sun set and the light snow turned to heavy snow and gale force winds.
I was caught in a blizzard, surrounded by the night skies, snow coated cacti, and darkness.
I drive the family sedan, and the car was stuck in 6 inches of thick snow within minutes. I pulled over, put the parking brake on, and trekked for two miles in the blistering cold to find someone, anyone. I had a t-shirt and sandals on, and was nearly stricken by frostbite. At the time, I paid no mind to it, as thoughts of failure at suicide and my parents were flooding my mind.
Eventually, I reached a small trailer with a horse ranch out back, and walked towards their front door. As I walked inside, I saw three young boys making a snowman in the front yard. Their childlike naivety, innocence, and happiness brought tears to my eyes. It was at that moment when I knew that suicide wasn't an option.
From there, I knocked on the door, and entered. Long story short, the father of the house greeted me, and I told him lies as to why I was in his area. We eventually drove his truck to a payphone five miles from his home. We crossed the bridge as we drove.
Eventually, around 11pm that night, I was home and reunited with my parents. We cried the entire night, but I returned to school the next morning.
For months, and even today, I've endured extensive and intensive therapy sessions, new medications, and much more, none of which has done much good. As such, my grades and self esteem have plummeted, and my weight fluctuates like a malfunctional roller coaster. I'm thin as a rail.
So, three days ago, I went to my local Catholic Church, seeking any advice available. I went into a confession booth, and met a priest from Kenya. The minute he saw me, he saw past my cheerful facade.
"I see pain behind those eyes," he said.
I broke down in front of a priest, and explained everything. I explained my irreligion, my sins, my depression, my apathy, and it came out as verbal machine gun fire.
I was taken aback when he told me the priesthood was meant for those like me. He too, has suffered, just as Jesus suffered. This Priest had his parents killed by warfare in Northern Kenya, and he immigrated to the US penniless and hopeless. Now, he feels a sense of fulfillment. To regain that sense of fulfillment, he told me, I need to remind myself that Jesus has a plan of fulfillment for all of us, and that Jesus has suffered beyond my comprehension.
That night, I read through Christian theology, Jesuit prayer books, and rational reasons as to why theism is "real" so to speak. With confidence, I can now say I'm a Christian again.
I don't know if there is a heaven or hell, nor do I know what God has planned for me. But, I do know that my purpose stems beyond my comprehension, just as it does for everyone. That alone comforts me, and I hope to continue to develop my faith as the months go on.
Submitted March 23, 2016 at 07:57PM by Unknown
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