I’m the girl that other people write their blog posts for. I’m the girl that’s been in that same situation for a little too long. I’m the girl who needs to let go. I’m the girl who gives advice better than she can take her own. Often times, writers create “Yes You Can” blog posts to encourage people to keep pushing because they have made it out, and you can too. How often do you see posts about people who have a fresh wound that is so tender they can barely wrap it?

This one is going to hurt. It’s going to hurt to talk about it. It’s going to hurt to reveal my filth, and my secret hurt, but what right do I have to hold it back when I know my testimony isn’t for me but for someone else? I know there will be people who know exactly what and/or who I am speaking of and shake their finger at me in shame. Let me put a disclaimer that nothing I say will be out of spite, but out of the need to release it so that I may move on.

Earlier this year, I met someone who I had an uneasy gut feeling about from Day 2. I believe that the uneasy gut feeling was the Holy Spirit saying “I know what you’re going to do, but trust me you don’t want to.” I didn’t listen, and I imagine Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit sitting in a theatre, watching me on stage… They knew what would happen in this scene, but they had given me a chance to walk off the stage, and I didn’t take it. Because I was disconnected from the Spirit at this time, I thought it was all in my head. I thought that I was being paranoid and my feeling was invalid, so I went for it— with all the indecisiveness and skepticism in the world. Rule #1- If you don’t have peace about it, it’s not God. I knew better. I just wish I had listened to my gut.

Following the 4th day, I knew for sure that I was diving into a dangerous situation, but with the curiosity of whether or not this was God or my paranoia, I decided to go in head first. You know those horror movies where the 1800’s built house is silent, the floorboards are creaking and you know that there’s nothing good behind that door but the character can’t help but look? That was me. Before I knew it, I was in darkness being eaten alive by my lack of connection with God. I ended up in a halfway relationship in which I had no freedom because I didn’t have the strength to choose it. There were arguments every other day, the pressure to decide whether or not this was what I wanted, confusion and frustration. My indecisiveness was through the roof. Yes. No. Yes. No. I don’t know. Let’s wait it out. Yes. Let’s slow it down. Can we just be friends? Yes. No. Ugh… And believe it or not— that was all by day 14.

Two weeks in, I was already being dragged into madness. So you’d think I’d let it go then, right? Any logical person who wanted whats best for themselves would leave that situation, wouldn’t they? You ever heard that phrase “Common sense ain't so common?” I’m guilty. My name is Greek and means “to help, to defend”. I just wanted to help this person see where I believed they had it all wrong. I wanted them to know what God had shown me, but I was shut down every time. It’s a dangerous thing to be in any true Christian partnership with someone who trusts what they hear from God, but not what you hear. I got myself caught up in a whirlwind of trying to fix everything and trying to make things work. When I tried to leave, the words spoken to me about it made me feel guilty. I was being convinced that God wasn’t speaking to me to leave the situation, but my former depression and lingering anxiety was.

I was being convinced that if only I would fix everything that was wrong with me, we wouldn’t have any more issues. I was convinced that I never knew what I was talking about, the way I see things were wrong, the way I do things was inappropriate, the males I called friends were all just trying to date me, I wasn’t giving enough attention, I wasn’t caring or appreciative, I was too young to do things correctly and that every time I tried to leave it was because I was FEARFUL— not because God told me. Because if I would “just have faith and stop speaking that we aren’t going to work, we could get somewhere.”

Breathe. This continued for several months. In the midst of it all, we shared laughs and had incredible fun. Everyone saw how well we meshed, how well I was being treated—getting my doors opened for me and my meals paid for. We shared moments together to be remembered for a lifetime. Then there were also times we’d sit in the car or the kitchen of my apartment trying to figure things out, and we’d end up calling it quits over and over again… sometimes yelling and slicing each other’s hearts with harsh words. Sometimes being so angry we were calm and rude. Sometimes the night would end in a sweet embrace which would turn into things that were a little too intimate, and I’d end the night in tears knowing if we had only gone a little farther, I would have lost my virginity. In tears knowing that this was NOT a relationship God had intended, but I’d stay in the embrace because I felt like I was in way too deep to let it go.

Then I’d get asked, “Well, why don’t you just leave?”

The truth was that I was afraid to. Ironically, all the times I was told that I was afraid to stay, the truth was that I was more afraid to leave. I was afraid of leaving because of that darn “What If”. What if this was the relationship-not-relationship I am supposed to be in (we only officially dated for 3 weeks), and I leave it? What if it IS just my anxiety? What if I can’t handle seeing him with someone else? What if I miss out on all the fun I have with him? What if he spreads lies about me and people actually believe him?

We’d tried everything. We’d try fixing things. We tried pointing out that lust may be an issue with us, so we created more boundaries. We spent days apart but too acclimated to spending every day with each other to take the time we needed. We prayed separately, tried to talk things out, tried being friends, but nothing seemed to work. There was too much pain from unspoken apologies. Too much pain from pride and misunderstanding, and way too much pain from arguments that were de-escalated rather than handled. So constantly, I’d ask myself, why? If I love myself and I know that God loves me and wants more than this for me, why would I remain here? It never got any better— it would just get worse and worse with zero improvements. Improvement to us was making it two days without arguing.

I found the answers to my question. However, it was almost as if I was still in this horror movie. I had already gone through that door and into the darkness. I had run around so long in the darkness, but I knew I’d have more peace on the other side of that door (obviously, because I had been there before). The darkness became so routine that it was more comfortable to stay in it than to leave it. To know that is heartbreaking, but sooner or later, that light shining through the cracks looked as good as your first meal after a fast. There’s the way out… but now is the time to carefully execute the escape in such a way that you take note of every step you took to get there so you don’t enter the same door again.