Dear Child of God,

I know you're struggling. I know that sometimes you don't see the light, and you have no idea if the light even exists anymore, but please don't ever stop fighting. Even if you want to.

I know the pain of waking up, looking in the mirror and viewing yourself as a disappointment. I too have thought of myself as someone who will never be enough, regardless of how many times I'd try to make others happy or proud. I know the pain of having ambitions, but struggling to get out of bed or off of the couch. I know the pain of not even wanting to shower, because moving one inch from the position that you are in is just another burden you have to get through. I know the pits of depression, the grips of anxiety and the never ending black hole of an eating disorder.

I know the stigmas. I know the fear of not wanting to go on medication, because you are anxious that it will do more damage than good. I know what it is like to completely lose yourself to an illness, to become so deeply entangled in destroying yourself that it leaves you with no hope of getting better. I know what it's like to be under the strangling grasps of mental illness, because I have lived through them.

I lived through the times that I wished I wasn't alive, and I'm glad I did. Despite the darkness.

It can be so hard to see the good in life in the midst of a mental illness, but I want you to keep walking, stumbling, even crawling if you have to. Keep moving forward, even on the days that you don't want to move at all, because eventually you will find light. Or maybe the light will find you.

Your movements don't have to be big. They can be as simple as brushing your teeth or folding one item of clothing. Moving forward can look like showering, feeding your pet or filling your car with gas. Moving is just taking one step at a time, one day at a time. When I was in the crisis center, the ways that I moved forward were by leaving my room to eat with everyone in the community or showering, even if it was at midnight. I would eat as best I could, despite the loudness of my eating disorder. I would pray to God, even though I had believed in my heart that He had abandoned me and that there was no possible way he would redeem me from this.

I thought about throwing my engagement ring down the drain, even though I was engaged to the love of my life.

I thought about starving myself, so I wouldn't have to fight anymore.

I asked God, in anger, why He even created me in the first place. I was so angry with Him, so hopeless; but, despite this all, I kept moving forward. I woke up, got up and ate breakfast, despite my urges to starve myself. I kept praying, even though I was certain that God didn't exist, and that, if He did, He had stopped caring about me. And guess what?

Slowly, I began to feel a little hope come back into my heart. Slowly, I began to laugh again. Slowly, I began to accept my body. Slowly, and eventually, I began to feel God again, and I started to have hope that He would make a new path for me. Slowly, I began to find the light. Or maybe the light found me.

Oh Child of God, I am here to tell you that there is hope. I have seen it, experienced it and lived it. God has used my brokenness and made it beautiful. He had a perfect plan for me all along, even though I couldn't see it.

I am now at home, surrounded by family, friends and my very own fur babies. I have met some incredible people who have accepted me just as I am and have let me share my story with them. I have found and developed my passions, which include riding my horse almost every day of the week, drawing, writing, singing and reading.

So, Child of God, I am here to tell you that there is hope, even in the darkest depths of despair. I am here to tell you that God has a plan for you, despite what the world tells you. I am here to tell you that you will get out of this darkness, and you only need to take one step at a time.

I am proud of you, and so is God.

With love,

Mariah