It’s hard to admit when you’re not doing all right, but right now… I’m not.

I could come up with any number of external reasons why, but in the end, it just happens sometimes. You aimlessly lie on the couch instead of unloading the dishwasher, or reading a book, or taking a shower. It’s not just that you don’t feel like doing anything, you simply can’t. I’ve been taught to push these bad thoughts aside—because depression is bad—but that only makes it worse. Now, not only are you unable to move, you also feel bad for having emotions commonly seen as negative.

But Scripture doesn’t command to be happy all the time. There’s the constant reminder of the joy of the Lord, which makes you feel even crummier when you’re not feeling it. But why else would we need that reminder, if we weren’t like those Biblical folk crying out in anguish? The Israelites were constantly unhappy wandering the desert. David wrote a bunch of angry, depressing Psalms. Jesus flat-out cried, pleading with God in his prayers. Let’s not even get into Lamentations.

The joy of our hearts has ceased; our dancing has been turned to mourning.
—Lamentations 5:15

I know, I know—without darkness, we couldn’t understand the light. But the darkness just sucks sometimes.

The hardest thing is to acknowledge the dark. Not to dwell in it, nor ignore it, but simply acknowledge. My initial reaction is to push those feelings aside, to make excuses for the weariness or indifference toward work or household chores. But that’s the easy, and untruthful, way out. It’s harder to admit you’re just not okay.

St. Ignatius suffered from something that sounds alarmingly similar, constantly beating himself up for not being “okay.” Finding no joy in even the things of God; feeling each Confession was incomplete, like he should have said more. Sounds familiar. But eventually, he came to understand it. Not overcome it—I imagine it never really went away—but understand what it was. It’s a good start.

Sometimes, it’s okay to be not-okay. Have a good cry. Don’t feel pressure to dig yourself out of it. Whine to God. It may lurk, but you feel better acknowledging it rather than trying to hide it.

O Christ Jesus,
when all is darkness
and we feel our weakness and helplessness,
give us the sense of Your presence,
Your love, and Your strength.
Help us to have perfect trust
in Your protecting love
and strengthening power,
so that nothing may frighten or worry us,
for, living close to You,
we shall see Your hand,
Your purpose, Your will through all things.
—St. Ignatius of Loyola