To The Depressed, Drunk, and Suicidal–There is No Shame

Last week, I sat across the table from a soul-eyed woman who shared her story of faith. She told me of her walk into, through, and back into depression. She painted the most vivid pictures of the dark days that roll, the days that threaten to bend her back to ash. On those days, the voices come calling her home, home, home.

Where is home?

“Let’s find out,” she’d like to say on those days, razor blade in hand. Except she never has. The darkness hasn’t yet won. And so long as she’s honest enoug...