In the stillness of solitude, I sit alone, my soul shrouded in the weight of ongoing anxiety. The darkness that encroaches upon the corners of my mind is a relentless adversary, one that makes me question my faith. I often find myself in quiet moments, tears mingling with my fervent prayers, begging for relief, for a moment of respite from this unyielding affliction. Yet, the relief I seek never comes.
I’ve always been told that faith can move mountains, that belief in a higher power can provide solace even in the bleakest of times. And so, I try to be a faithful servant, a devout follower of the commandments, striving to go about doing good as best I can. I diligently teach my children the gospel of Jesus Christ, instilling in them the values of compassion, love, and forgiveness. But still, I am left with the haunting question, “Why won’t you bless me and take this affliction away?”
Faith is a delicate thread that weaves through the tapestry of our lives, connecting us to the divine and guiding us through the unknown. It is a source of strength, a beacon of hope that carries us through the deepest trials. But when anxiety and mental struggles persist, when they wrap their chains around my heart, faith begins to falter. It becomes a fragile bridge, swaying in the winds of doubt and despair.
I’m told that God’s plan is often beyond our comprehension, that trials and tribulations are part of a grand design. Yet, as I grapple with this relentless anxiety, I can’t help but question why I have been burdened with this affliction. Is it a test of my faith, a challenge that I must overcome? Or is it a seemingly insurmountable burden that has been unfairly placed upon my shoulders?
Living with unrelenting anxiety is like trying to breathe underwater. Each day, I gasp for the air of hope, for the light of relief, and I get down on my knees, seeking solace from a divine source. I pour my heart into my prayers, my words and tears mingling in the silence of my sacred space. But despite my earnest pleas, my heart remains heavy, and my mind a battleground for fears and doubts.
I am living without hope, or at least, that’s what it often feels like. The darkness of anxiety can be all-consuming, overshadowing any glimmer of faith that remains. In the midst of this struggle, I wonder if anyone is even hearing my prayers. Is there a divine presence that listens to the anguish of my soul, or am I merely shouting into the void?
These questions, these doubts, they are the cracks in the foundation of my faith. They are the storm clouds that obscure the light of hope. But in the midst of this turmoil, I remember the stories of ancient prophets who faced their own trials, who wrestled with their own doubts. I find solace in the idea that my struggles may be part of a larger narrative, one in which I, too, can find redemption and renewal.
As I navigate the labyrinth of my faith and mental health, I hold onto the belief that there is a purpose in my pain, even if I can’t yet see it. I continue to pray, to seek guidance, and to find strength in the teachings of compassion, love, and forgiveness that I share with my children. In the darkness, I strive to be a beacon of hope, not just for myself, but for others who may be traveling a similar path.
And in the end, I realize that faith is not just the absence of doubt, but the courage to continue believing, even in the face of unanswered prayers and unrelenting afflictions. It’s a journey that tests our endurance, but it’s also one that can lead us to a deeper understanding of our own strength and the divine presence that may be guiding us, even in our darkest hours.
Hayden Coombs 