Why I Don’t Trust “I'm Fine”
My true story of childhood grief and redemption
Some losses in life deeply mark you, and then they shape the rest of your life.
Friends, many of you don’t know this, but my mom battled depression and mental illness throughout my childhood.
There were seasons where she could fight her way back into the light and seem fine. She could function, smile, hold things together, and create just enough normal for us to believe she was doing good and stable.
Then the darkness would return.
If you grew up around anything like this, you know what it does to you. You learn to quickly read a room as a survival skill. You pick up on the weight in the air, the quiet signals, the tiny shifts that tell you something is wrong… even before anyone says a word.
One day when I was 13 years old, I was home with my mom alone.
I was downstairs watching TV and she was upstairs. All of a sudden I could feel in my gut that something wasn’t right. So I stood up, turned off the TV, and walked upstairs.
I found my mom in the kitchen. She walked toward me and said something I will never forget.
“Remember, I love you more than anything in this world.”
Then she turned and stumbled toward her room.
In that instant, I knew something was seriously wrong because I saw the empty pill bottles on the counter and my whole body reacted.
My hands were shaking as I grabbed the phone and called my dad.
“Something’s wrong with Mom, there’s empty pill bottles” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He told me to call 911. So I did.
And then I waited.
You don’t forget that kind of waiting. Time slows down, but your thoughts sprint ahead, trying to prepare you for something your heart refuses to accept. When the ambulance arrived, everything moved quickly. They carried her out on a stretcher. She was barely conscious.
A family friend came to pick me up and take me to their house. I sat there while the hours blurred together, fear pressing on my chest… a heavy weight I couldn’t ignore.
Then the phone rang.
I didn’t even need to hear the words. I saw it in the face of the person holding the phone. That look adults get when they’re trying to keep it together because they know a child is watching.
I shouted, “Don’t say it.”
And I ran.
Out of the house and into the apple orchard across the street.
The rain soaked through my clothes almost immediately, but I didn’t care.
I sobbed and moaned… My mom was gone… and with her, a piece of my world shattered.
There are moments that split your life into two parts. There is the before, and then there is everything after. For me, this was one of those moments.
After her death, the pain didn’t resolve cleanly, it dug deeper. It left a wound I didn’t know how to process, and I definitely didn’t know how to carry as a young boy, so I did what a lot of people do when the ache gets too heavy.
I tried to numb it anyway I could.
That road led me into nearly eight years of drug addiction, homelessness, despair, and the kind of darkness where you wonder if you will ever feel “normal” again, or if the damage is now permanent.
But in 1994, God interrupted my story.
I visited a church with my childhood friend after his persistent invitations… and I encountered Jesus in a new way than I did as a child.
Not religion. Jesus.
And I realized something that still anchors me today.
God was not disgusted by my brokenness or intimidated by my pain. He did not turn away from me because of my wickedness… He came towards me.
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18, NIV)
That verse is personal to me. To say I was crushed would be an understatement. Even now more than 40 years later, this is hard to write about so openly.
When you’re crushed in spirit, you don’t need someone to tell you to be positive. You don’t need shallow and cliche encouragement. You need the presence of God, the strength of God, the mercy of God, and you need it in a form that can actually hold you up when you’re not strong enough to stand… most often a trusted friend, pastor, or community.
Jesus didn’t just save me, He started rebuilding me. He began healing what trauma had damaged and meant to destroy me, restoring what addiction had stolen, and slowly giving me a future I did not believe I deserved.
Never would I have dreamed that 40 years later I would be married to my best friend, have to raised children, have a 30 year tech career where I have advised top executives, and 20+ years as a bi-vocational pastor because early on after accepting Christ, I realized I had a calling…
Not to be impressive or build something for myself and by myself...
To love, mentor, and pastor people like me… and people like my mom… and people like my Dad who was devastated and left trying to hold it all together.
People who are suffering quietly. People who are carrying more than they can explain. People who look fine on the outside, but feel like they’re falling apart on the inside.
This is why I don’t trust “I’m Fine”… or even “I’m Good”… I often ask cashiers a 2nd time as I connect with their eyes, “Ya, your doing good?”… that little move has started dozens of conversations where someone opens up about how they are really doing.
So if any of this touches your story, I want to say this plainly.
Depression is real. Trauma is real. Addiction is real. Grief can crack you open in ways you never saw coming.
And most importantly, Jesus is real too.
His love is real. His healing is real. His ability to restore a life is still real.
The church is not perfect, it never has been. It’s full of imperfect people. But there are Bible-based, grace-filled churches where you will find love and truth, where you can be honest, stop pretending, and begin again with people who will help you carry what you’ve been trying to carry alone.
If you already have a church like that, don’t disappear. Don’t isolate. Don’t suffer in silence. Let someone love you. Let someone pray with you. Let someone help carry the weight.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28, NIV)
That invitation is still open. And Jesus still keeps His promises.
A simple prayer, if you need one
Jesus, I’m tired.
I’m hurting.
I don’t know how to fix this.
But I believe You see me.
Please help me.
Please heal me.
Please lead me back to life.
Amen.
Friends, if this story reminds you of struggles in your own life, I want you to know I’m here and would love to be praying for you and with you. This is why I have pastored, managed teams, and the reason I started Leader Unlock… to invest in people, encourage them, and love in a way that is deep and authentic… and see you thrive to leave a lasting legacy.
You matter.
You are loved.
And your story is not over.
And if you need help immediately, please reach out to someone right now. If you’re in the U.S., you can call or text 988 for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. If you’re in immediate danger, call 911 (or your local emergency number). If you’re outside the U.S., tell me your country and I’ll point you to the right crisis resource.