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God, I hate this. I hate how I feel, I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can't be happy! What's wrong with me? What did I do wrong? Why me?!

I remember all too well thoughts like these, written out of frustration, self-hate and anger in a diary, here, my freshman year. For freshman year was the year life began to unravel.

Growing up among a Christian family, I was definitely perceived as a pretty happy kid. Looking back on it now, I wonder how people saw this. Was I really that good of a deceiver? The only thing that seemed to ever make me happy was spending time with friends.

Inside the comfort of my own home, my family knew the true me. I was a frustrated kid with no answers, looking for someone to be my punching bag. With the sole support of friends and losing myself in their struggles, I made my way through elementary and middle school. Somehow the cruelty of life made sense to me when I was with this group of people.

High school was even better. I made more friends, and got involved in competitive sports. Just as it seemed like I was finding my groove and myself, our family decided to move to Chile, that my dad might pastor an International church.

At first I was upset to leave my friends. A few or so days later, matter-of-factly, I decided that I needed to stop feeling bad and just get over my feelings, for that was real obedience. So I put it all aside, said my good-byes, boarded the plane and took my seat. I did it all without crying. That year was full of new experiences, experiences that I didn't allow myself to work through because this was where God had us and it was being unfaithful to his calling to feel something other than joy in this new place.

A year later, we were moving again. We returned to Maryland to find our "home" very different. Old friends ignored us, church had changed, and dad didn't have a job. It was a hard year for all of us. As hard as I tried, I could no longer fake feelings of happiness. I was mad. It wasn't fair. Life sucked. Why didn't my friends like me anymore? Why wasn't church the same? Why were we struggling financially? Why did we have to be 5 people living in a small townhouse with fond memories of our past there that only became distant memories?

Despite my visible bad attitude, our family still tried to be optimistic. That was pretty easy for my mom, and sisters, for that's naturally how they are. Even my dad seemed to find his solace somewhere. Again, I was alone. Those days were so hard. I wanted life to end. I just couldn't see things getting better. It is only through God's grace that I made it through that year without doing damage to myself or those around me.

Almost a year to the day of our arrival back to the states, we were off again-this time to Costa Rica, in which my parents would spend three of my four years of college.

I finished the second part of my senior year taking a few classes here and there. A few months into our new home, I had horrible stomach pains and had to have surgery from a ruptured appendix. The subsequent 5 or so weeks consisted of little to no physical movement. I was in a lot of pain and forced to be quiet. I chose to ignore the pain and unfairness of life. I wasn't strong enough to deal with all that I felt, because I realized that my root problem, any ill feeling I had, was directed towards God.

A few months after that, I was off and running again. I joined a missions group for a few weeks and traveled to Northern Ireland. It was a great time of ministry, something that has always allowed me to look outside myself and put things in perspective. Some how when I consider the lives of those with none of the things I take for granted each day, I am silenced to the own injustice I feel in my life. As good and true as this was, I continued to hide from and avoid the truth.

I returned from Ireland, just in time for the Exodus trip with Issachar's Loft, only to start classes a little over a week afterwards and the first month or so of school at Messiah was great. I liked my classes, I was making new friends and God was teaching me many things. I thought for sure the rain clouds were gone and the sun was here to stay.

I am not really sure how I woke up to the fact that I hadn't dealt with the hurt and anger from having to leave so many people I loved throughout the last years, but it all seemed to be all at once, continuing throughout the year. They say depression looks different in different people. I think I experienced all symptoms. I cried for days. I didn't want to get out of bed. I was angry and didn't know why. I was unhappy with myself. I envied people who were happy and seemed to have it all together. Some days were definitely better than others, but my life overall was dull and pointless.

By the grace of God, a wonderful friend of the family encouraged me to get counseling and I did. At first, it was really hard and frustrating. I began to see things in myself and life that needed to be dealt with that hadn't. I began to understand how important it was to give myself a break and experience the deep rooted feelings and emotions I had from the lack of closure in my life.

Despite the great help I was getting, and the support coming from friends and family, there wasn't a consistent uphill climb. In fact, the more I became aware of what was going on, the more bumpy things seemed.

I decided at the end of my freshman year, to go on meds, in the hopes of regulating my mood a little more. Although a lot of medicine takes some time to do its work, I found myself experiencing things less dramatically.

That summer was full of trying times as I continued to struggle to understand why God had made me this way. I had more time to myself, without schoolwork and friends with their demands.

I remember and still do wrestle with the stigma that true Christians are those who are joyful. They know the power of salvation and live by it. As true as this is, not all of us are made with an automatic cheerful heart, able to see the good in all. And the more I explored this, the more I understood how different personalities are valid and contain positive, valuable aspects. It was just trying to find a balance in between feeling something and acting because of it.

Sophomore year came and things became less bumpy. I was able to talk more with friends and my counselor and begin to develop ways in which to combat the attacks of depression, or as I know it, melancholy. As I stated earlier, knowing that this was part of who I was, we had to figure out appropriate practical ways in which I could respond to subsequent feelings. We talked about taking time for myself and developing ways to combat the stress and negative self-talk that occurred when I struggled.

I tell you these things-parts of my external and internal life, not to brag about the neat places I have been to, or the experiences I have had. Rather, for all of you to see the following. First: We all struggle. Some of us with depression, others with body-image, others with judgmental thoughts…and the list continues …We each have our own battle. And as hard as it is to keep coming back to God, he is the only one who truly provides strength to make it through the day.

Second: That even though life sometimes seems unfair and unjustifiable for the pain with which we deal, that ultimately God is in control and is working good through it all. Many days I wish he would have just taken it all away, but I honestly wonder now how different I would be today if I hadn't have had to go to God to keep me going at my lowest points. And in all God showed and continues to show himself faithful and remind me, sometimes more than once a day, of his love for me in spite of it all. What an amazing God.

My prayer for each of you is that as you hear these stories, maybe those of others you know, or maybe even your own, that you might seek out God in them. Is life unfair sometimes? Absolutely. Take it up with God. Look to Him for your answers and look for him to supply you with the faith and strength to make it through the year, week, day or maybe even hour. God wants to talk with us-as often as we let him. Let's do it together.