My Weak Love


Darkness engulfs the light and I slip under it’s power. I’ve been here so many times. It’s like the comfortable embrace of an old friend, but the quiet tears remind me this is no friend.

I try to be strong, but I’m too weak.  I give up and allow the darkness to surround me.

I’m in a new place of awareness.  I recognize my depression, and I know this is not the end.  So, I trust myself, and listen to what is going on inside.  I pay attention to the voices of self-doubt, fear and anxiety.  My heart is wounded and I search for what’s bringing it pain now.  I look at the reason.  I give it a name.  I visualize it’s face, and I grieve deeply the inflicted wound, not with self-pity, but with self-appreciation.  In a way one would tenderly care for a cut in one’s arm.

It takes all my strength to turn my face toward Love. I meet His eyes and I stagger at how my one loving glance overwhelms Him, delights Him, moves Him.  I let Him in and His love washes over me and before long I emerge back into the light, and I realize: My weak love is a real love.

3 thoughts on “My Weak Love

  1. Christina Dugas says:

    Very moving, I have found myself in the mist of self-doubt and pity. Your words are encouraging, relatable, and all to often we all feel this way only few are willing to speak of it. Thank you!

  2. Pingback: Depression is a Manifestation of a Wounded Heart - The Wounded Dove

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