I just finished reading through one of my journals from 2006 and was amazed at what I found. Encouragement and support as I started my Living Room ministry. Accolades. I had many friends.

Such joy!

I suffered from a lot of depression in the midst of the Living Room work, as well as the many other activities I engaged in – writing a book, speaking engagements, blogging, and one on one support of people with depression. In spite of my mental health difficulties, I kept it all going. It exhausted me but provided great satisfaction too.

I could tell God was working through me. Realizing that the work I was doing was God’s work – not my own – gave me the courage I needed. None of it would have been possible without him. My journal and the many prayers I wrote there shows how closely I stayed connected with God throughout this period. It’s a good lesson for my life today.

But a few years ago – I don’t know exactly when – something happened. I still don’t know exactly what it was. Was it the BPD I was diagnosed with around this time? People who I had thought were friends stopped talking to me – not even acknowledging me when I greeted them. A person who had given great support in the past, showed in many ways that he no longer had respect for me.

And yet, this is amazing: Through all the suffering this caused, and though I had to retire from Living Room in 2015 because of poor health, I never stopped the part of this ministry I started in 2013 – writing the devotionals I send out every Monday. God stayed with me. He helped me carry on my work ministering to those with mental health issues, and I continue to this day.

And so – why all the stigma I was feeling from people? I could not understand it. What did I do wrong? Within a short time I had gone from being a respected leader to a person who was made to feel unworthy.

On Sundays I sat at the back of the sanctuary – broken. Head in hands. Reaching for God.