As the years went on, I would find myself often debating people on the subject of religion, not necessarily to challenge their faith, but, in retrospect, I believe I was trying to dissect it in order to figure out why it wasn’t prevalent in me. Looking back, I realize that, as the symptoms of my mental illnesses increased, causing me more and more angst, I was growing jealous of the peace that religion afforded people.

I feel that it’s important to note that faith is so effective in the recovery community because it connects the person to the idea of something outside themselves; drugs and alcohol are something tangible within this world that calls to them for one reason or another, but religion gives them something outside this world to grasp onto, which is wholly disconnected from the pain and anguish they feel that drove them to addiction in the first place. Unfortunately, mental illness is unlike drugs and alcohol because it does not exist in the physical world, which is why DBT has a large focus on mindfulness, or the practice of focusing on the tangible. In short, I feel that the biggest difference between an addiction to drugs and alcohol, and an addiction to mental illness is that the most effective treatment is the opposite for each, and this is why I had such a difficult time connecting to the idea of faith; what I needed was something to connect me to this world.

As I mentioned above, I didn’t realize it growing up but I was developing a jealousy and resentment towards those who found comfort in religion because I was unable to. At this stage in my life I understand that, and I no longer derive pleasure from arguing religion like I once did. I recognize now that religion offers hope to those who cannot find it in this world, and instead of shunning others for having it—which I deluded myself in believing that I disagreed with because it was illogical—I now envy them.

The hardest part about dealing with mental health issues while not being religious is that there’s no choice but to deal with the idea that this is it. That’s not to say that the idea of an afterlife is wrong; I’ve never been there so I cannot rightfully say that it does or does not exist. That is simply to say that my mind is transfixed on what is going on now, which is the pain of my own issues, and when one does not have something else to look forward to after this all they can do is focus on the idea that this will go on until they no longer exist. This is where people often mistake “suicidal ideation” for “suicidal;” they do not realize that for many people it’s not a desire to die, but rather a desire to not be alive any longer. The hardest part about suicidal ideation in a person who is not religious is that the concept of nothingness afterwards is horrifying. Faith allows for the peace-of-mind that, if the person does the right things in life, then afterwards there will be something more. When that is removed from the equation, there is simply pain in life and then nothing.