I don’t think I believe in God anymore. I am not mad about it. I’m just tired. Tired of praying, hoping, and waiting for something, anything, to come back. My wins feel like I earned them myself. My losses? Those are all mine too. It’s like I have been alone this whole time, and I’m only now seeing it. My heart is loud, but nobody is listening.

My daughter died. She was only seven days old. Seven days! That’s all I got with her. She was born on June 10th 2025 but died on March 16th 2025. Yes that is right, she was born exactly three months too soon. Too fragile for a world that didn’t wait long enough. I can’t make sense of it. The pain is like a shadow, it doesn’t scream, but it is always there. I don’t get why an innocent child has to hurt and die just to teach me something. If that is what faith costs, I’m done paying, the price is too steep.

I used to be good at what I do. Smart. Creative. I handled money like it was easy and it always seemed as if I was just too good with it and people came to me for answers. Now? I’m slipping. Everything I touch falls apart. My hands are exactly the opposite of those of Midas. Nobody sees it, but I’m drowning… debt, fear, nights where I can’t sleep because I’m counting what’s left. It is never enough.

My wife is not happy. Her eyes used to light up when she looked at me, but now it’s like she is staring at a ghost. She is worn out, I can see it, and I know she is watching me fall apart. Does she want to save me? No doubt! Or has she already checked out, just waiting for me to say it’s over? I doubt! She doesn’t have to say a word because I feel her pulling away. I love her with everything I have left, but it is not enough. I am here, but I am only a shell. I can’t be the man she married, the one who could fix anything, and it is tearing me to pieces.

My mom is not happy either. She raised me to be tough, to carry the load, but now she looks at me like I am a stranger. Her eyes are full of worry and dissapointment, like she is mourning the son she lost. She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she is thinking about it. Clearly I am not the guy who had it all figured out anymore. I sit with her, but I am not there. My mind is trapped somewhere else, and I can not pull it back. I see both their pain, and it cuts deeper.

I am present, but I am gone. I am in the room, but I am a million miles away. My body is here, but my heart has checked out. I am fed up, fed up with faking it, with fighting a battle I can not win, with failing everyone. I used to be the rock, the one with the answers, but now I have nothing. Nothing but this mess inside me.

I am stuck. I am scared. I have always been the strong one, the guy with the plan. But right now, I have nothing. So here I am, spilling my guts, asking for help. I don’t know who is out there, but if you are reading this, I need you to hear me. I need something, anything, to grab onto before I lose it all

If you have ever felt this lost, this empty, please tell me that I am not alone. Please tell me that I can figure this out. Please tell me to hang in there, somemore.

— lost, and yet to be found