I can only remember going to church once with my parents. It was on a Sunday morning and I was about seven years old. I wore a long green dress that had pink and beige flowers scattered on its fabric and white lace lining the sleeve and neck holes (what do you expect - it was the early 90s!). Mom made my hair look pretty as always. Back then my hair was dirty-blonde and super long and wavy. After getting all dressed up my mom, dad, and I left for church.

I don’t remember what it was but my parents bickered over something during the ride. At last, we pulled into the parking lot. I got out of the car and was so excited to show off how lady-like I was looking (I’ve always been a tomboy) . Then my parents got out of the car. And they were fighting.

I stood there waiting for them to get moving so we could get inside the church. We were already late to begin with. But they still stood there arguing. It turned into a real embarrassing scene - shouting and pointing and name-calling right in the middle of the parking lot of the church. I was completely frozen there. There was nothing I could say or do. And then finally they decided since they were so mad to get back into the car and drive home. So I opened the car door, quietly slipped into the backseat and stared out the window longingly at the church as we drove home.

As years moved by I was forced to attend a few Catholic church sessions with some other relatives. Those were a nightmare. I had no clue what was going on and never wanted to be there. It was so uncomfortable for me. Just the thought of being at church made me want to scream.

By 12 years old I had become so jaded about everything in life. I continued down a path of cynicism and clinical depression for many years. I’m still dealing with these issues today. Life has definitely not been all that kind to me. I am not trying to sound like some little brat who wants attention either. I really have been through some very rough times. It feels like someone has been playing a nasty prank on me for so many years and I am sick of it.

I am an optimist at heart whose hopes and dreams stay hidden under the surface of a very emotionally scarred facade. I keep reaching for better days to come my way and they never seem to come. “It’s always something” seems to be my motto anymore. If it’s not one thing breaking down it’s another. Whether it’s relationships, appliances, my emotional or physical health... you name it.

I want to believe in God. I just don’t know how.

Part of me likes to talk to him and have faith. The other part of me cannot understand how he could make my life so miserable for so long. I have come to a point where I actually believe that he exists. All this comes after spending years as an Atheist. So when I say that I want to believe in God I guess I really mean that I want to be able to put faith in him and trust that he is going to have my back.

I am a sinner like the rest of the world. But what I can’t wrap my mind around is the fact that I have never purposely hurt anyone in my whole life. I have always been a caring and sympathetic friend, daughter, lover, etc. I put myself in everyone else’s shoes. I try to make life easier for everyone around me.

So why is it that I can’t seem to get ahead in life? Why do I suffer from all this depression and anxiety? How come no matter how hard I try to succeed something always stands in my way of achieving the happiness I am just dying to feel?

I am tired of not being able to fully believe in God. All I want is to be able to feel how good it feels to believe in something again.

Maybe my relationship with God was doomed from the beginning. Maybe that very first outing with my parents set the stage for my issues with faith. The strange thing is, I wrote down the title of this article before writing it and a few minutes later my doorbell rang. It was an old man from a church who handed me a brochure and talked to me about what they do and everything. Maybe it is just coincidence or maybe it’s a sign.