A Soft Return: From Searching To Surrender

 

I was raised a Roman Catholic. Sundays in church pews, prayer that felt like a familiar language in my bones, the kind of kid that knew the smell of incense and the sound of the choir long before I understood what any of it meant. Going to Catechism was something I did from first grade through eighth grade ending with a celebration and ceremony with Confirmation. I always believed in God, not out of obligation, but out of an instinctive knowing that I was held by something larger than myself. Faith was not a theory to me: it was home.

But, as I got older, life tested the foundations I thought were unshakeable. Facing domestic violence, divorce and a huge move, depression crept in quietly at first, then eventually settled into my life like an unwanted companion. I found myself not wanting to get out of bed, showering became a chore and through all the struggles, I was raising four kids.

I started searching for something - anything that might give me a sense of control. I ventured out and researched other spiritual paths including Buddhism and the New Age Community: it was all new to me and I found everything fascinating. It felt gentle at first, a space that promised healing and empowerment. I was drawn to the language of energy, manifestation and self-discovery because it seemed to offer what I desperately wanted: control over my own suffering, a path out of darkness and a sense of purpose. There were moments of genuine insight and growth, but there was also an emptiness I couldn't quite name.

I realized I was exhausting myself trying to manifest a sense of peace I couldn't hold onto. I was constantly trying to fix myself as if peace was something I had to earn through perfect thoughts or perfect energy. I'd have moments of clarity and days where the anxiety came back just as strong and I was left feeling hopeless once again.

It took time, unraveling and a lot of honesty to realize that what I was missing wasn't spirituality, it was a relationship: a foundation. And, at that moment, a voice, a thought, an emotion came to my head, "You don't have to do this alone." 

That's when I knew what was missing.

When we are at our worst, when we are suffering through darkness, unfortunately, not even family or friends will come forward. The relationship and foundation I needed was with God. My testimony isn't rejecting anything I learned outside of Jesus. Part of that journey taught me how to listen to my own soul, to honor my healing and to value self-reflection. But, what I've learned, for me, was the dire need of a foundation in order to keep me above water.

When I look back, I don't regret the wandering and searching: the beautiful paths I found a long the way. In fact, I still embrace somethings and make it my everyday ritual, especially within Buddhism. But, what I needed to learn was how to listen to my life, how to pay attention to my pain and how to be honest with the fact that I was hurting.

I am not living a church-girl life. I still deal with mental health ups and downs. I still question things and I'm definitely not walking around glowing with the holier than thou attitude. Today, when I am feeling anxious and sad, I pick up the Bible - I read His word, I help those in my community, I write in my journal and I share my story.

And that's what this journey is about for me: barefoot, imperfect, unpolished, unrehearsed and absolutely filled with Love.