God,

Hi. I am feeling a lot of things right now. I feel down, agitated. The more I'm learning about my mental illness, the more I realize I still have to deal with hurts from several years ago. I don't like expressing my anger. I don't know how to do it constructively. I tend to stuff everything and "try" to deal with it internally. That's why I guess I feel that the pain from opening a scab is not as bad as the emotional pain I feel.

God, there are so many emotions I'm feeling right now. The biggest one is depression. I really wish that I didn't have to deal with this junk, this mess. I wish that the chemical imbalance in my head didn't exist. I know that goes against your perfect plans for me, but that is how I feel. I'm crying right now, God. I hurt. I'm sad. I want to do what is right and not harm myself. It's so... hard.

Lord, you are the God of all comfort. I need you right now. These tears that are rolling down my face, these hot, wet tears -- I know that you see them. Jesus, I know you are familiar with suffering. Please help me right now. I want to feel better. I want to see myself the way you see me.

I really don't like myself. That's part of it. Here I am, so imperfect. I'm embarrassed by the scabs. I hate them and I want them to be gone... right now! I'm upset that I have these blemishes. I shouldn't be behaving that way, to pick my scabs to make them bleed. That's not what Jesus would do. Aha! There you have it.

I know that the enemy wants nothing more than for me to stay in this funk. To ignore everything about you that I know is true. I am tempted to pick because I find some comfort in my distress from doing it. It's nothing for me to pick the scab on my nose, squeeze the area around it so that the blood comes trickling out. There, look at what I've done. I feel a little impressed that I was able to control the bleeding coming out. And, after awhile, I'll clean myself up in such a way as to hide what happened. I'll stash the bloody paper towel in the middle of the garbage can. If someone walks in while I'm doing this, I'll quickly try to play it off. This is a private moment for me. I am in control. I like the feeling of being in control, the power. I know that eventually, it will heal and just leave a scar. Of course I have the pain leftover from picking.

That's how it goes. But you know that already, God. You know how easy it is for me to harm myself, especially when I feel distressed.

It's funny. I've never been quite that open about it before, and I feel better for expressing it. Lord, I'm feeling better now that I've talked about it. Please help me to never leave you. The enemy tries to plant these ungodly ideas that persevering isn't worth it - why not take the easy way out and be done with it. Such garbage. Please hold me, God. Help me to feel your comfort, your love. Help me to see that you love me, scabs and all.

I want to learn how to express my feelings better.

I love you, God.

Love, your son,
Danny