05/18/2026
As a pastor’s kid, I thought struggling with my mental health meant I was failing God. Growing up in the church, it felt taboo to talk about mental health or admit when you weren’t doing well. When I needed help, I stuffed everything down—even hiding it from my parents. I was afraid of being judged and believed I should be able to fix it with just prayer.
I had three breakdowns. My friends begged me to get help, but I believed therapy meant I was a bad Christian. During one breakdown, I couldn’t even speak for myself. I was completely shut down. When I wasn’t working, I was lying in bed—sleeping, barely eating, and not wanting to do much of anything. I felt numb and hopeless. I even remember thinking God was a God of chaos—which He isn’t—but in my depression, I had forgotten His sovereignty.
After my third breakdown, I knew I couldn’t keep living like that. I finally got help and chose a licensed Christian therapist. Over five years of counseling, I learned my triggers, coping skills, grounding tools, and how to set boundaries. For the first time, I began to truly understand myself.
The Lord used her greatly. She shared my faith but also knew when to be gentle, especially with my church hurt. In that room, I was just Jessie—not “the pastor’s daughter.”
Now I work as a Mobile Crisis Responder, and God has used that healing to help others. Many Christians open up to me because they know I understand—I’ve walked it.
Therapy is nothing to be ashamed of. In the right setting, it can draw you closer to God and strengthen your relationships. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18).
I didn’t get help until I was 30. My advice? Do it sooner. Don’t bury it. Don’t shut down. Let it out in a healthy way. It’s hard—but it may be the step God uses to change everything.
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