This came up as a memory on Facebook from January 9, 2015. I was struggling, yet again, with another bout of depression.

 I’m not the greatest example when it comes to people seeing Jesus through my life…but I can’t stop believing in him. I just can’t help it. Maybe it’s because I’ve believed since I was about 9 so it’s a part of me? Maybe it’s because of the supernatural experiences I’ve had? Maybe it’s because of all the evidence I keep discovering through apologetics? I don’t know anymore. There are so many questions that I can’t answer. So many questions and hurts and disappointments that keep people from believing and I don’t understand why it has to be so hard if God wants us all to come to him. If we can’t believe unless God allows it how is that free will? I just don’t get it but, still, I can’t stop believing. Guess that’s why they call it faith. The fact that I’m so damn miserable doesn’t exactly help my cause, but Jesus is the only hope I have for when this shitty life comes to an end…and it will come to an end…it’s inevitable. I should be out there trying to help and encourage others but how can I when I feel like this? I’d only be a hypocrite. Now I understand why the bible speaks of perseverance and steadfastness when it comes to our faith in Christ…because it’s hard to stay positive in such a depressing world. Hopefully the joy will return to me soon because I seem to have lost it……AGAIN. If I had the money and a passport I’d go on a missions trip to fix my perspective, but I’m not sure seeing even more misery would help or just make it worse. Instead I guess I’ll just go wrap myself up in blankets and watch movies to temporarily forget about myself. I suppose I’m thankful that I can do that….some people don’t even have a cardboard box to call home. So I should shut up now.

When I scrolled through all of the comments I received from friends who wanted to reach out to me, I came across this one and it stung a bit. Why? Because he’s dead now. He was a cousin I had recently reunited with at my brother’s house. It was a Cantalupo family reunion of sorts.  Honestly, I didn’t know who Mike was but I liked him instantly. Here’s what he said to me on Facebook…

Mindy so sorry to hear that you are feeling so down…remember that a lot of people love you and care about how you feel and that we are all with you. Maybe you need a few days on Miami Beach to clear your head and if so you are welcome and have a place to stay. Also keep in mind your relationship with your doctor and that there are many new medications that can help you feel a lot better. I love you and you can call 24/7 (305) 479-7849.

The fact that he’s dead isn’t really the whole reason it stung a bit when I came across his comment. It’s HOW he died. You see, Mike killed himself. If there was anything to laugh about I’d say it was ironic. He was trying to comfort me in a time of darkness and all the while I had no idea he had struggles of his own. I don’t know why he did it. I don’t know how he did it. All I know is I never called him. I never reached out to him. And now those opportunities are gone because he is gone.

I just wrote this on his timeline…

You tried to reach out to me on this day, 2 years ago. I was in a dark place and blurted it all out on Facebook for everyone to see. You responded with the sweetest heart. We had just met at the ‘Cantalupo Reunion’ and I liked you instantly. I want to thank you for trying to pull me up out of the pit I call depression. You invited me to come down to Miami and visit you…even gave me your number but I never called. If only I had known you had struggles of your own. Came across your comment of encouragement through the memories feed. It stung a bit because of the subject matter. It struck me a bit ironic minus the humor. I think we had more in common than I ever knew. Wish we could talk about it but, alas, you are gone. I hope we meet again someday. And I love you, too.

cantaluporeunion

Mike is the one in the mustard colored sweater. Next to him is my husband, Rick, and next to Rick is me.

 

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