A Moment’s Reflection Before Midnight


Hello readers.

My vacancy from this website has been something weighing on my mind, primarily due to the reason I created it.

This was meant to be my blog of spiritual foundation builders and experiences, an opportunity to share the peace and joy of my faith with readers everywhere.

An opportunity to be open about the things that made me feel strong.

But I will not lie to any reader right now. The events that have taken place in my life ever since October started has hurt me so profoundly, and has reignited my depression, and I find it immensely difficult to see the spiritual moments of life right now.

Basically the reason why I created this site – to lift up others in moments they are down – has become quite a struggle for me because myself as a writer has fallen down.

And I don’t plan on turning the internet into my space for complaining or just whining about all the terrible things that made have happened to me and try to seek some sort of attention.

I will admit that I’m holding back a large amount of emotion. So in a way this blog post is an attempt to release that emotion. Without making it look like I’m venting.

I’m not even sure if it’ll work.

I miss you. That person knows who they are. I can’t say a name because I don’t want to make a scene. But I can’t can’t sit back and pretend everything is okay. That I can walk away and say “that sucked, never doing that again”. I let this person in deep, deeper into the convoluted mess that would be my heart, than I have let anyone else, and now with that person’s absence, there is a grand void. A hole.

I want to fill it with something. Purpose. A goal. Selfishness has been suggested. But I can’t seem to figure out what. And why everyone’s advice isn’t working. Most say walk away and let it be, get over it, let it go (yes, cue in up-tempo tune in your heads as I’m trying to unload here) but it’s not happening. I don’t know why. Is that what love is? The painful unyielding unsatisfied need for something you’ll never have? The anxiety of wondering where is the line between trying too hard and not trying enough? Watching someone make a choice to wound themselves because they feel it better suits their needs and you stand in the dark and watch it happen because you have no power outside of coercion to help them?

Is love always asking why?

The light in this post can be simply this: I suffer too. I have pain. I have cried too many times for what has happened. And I cry now. And I don’t know when I’ll stop.

So I want my readers to know. I don’t write to be some self-righteous typical run-of-the -mill Latter Day Saint. I write as the failing, full of errors, promise-breaking and repairing to idly break again human being with a battered faith in a restored gospel that knows that despite the deepest blackest pit of hell I may find myself in, there is Someone who has been there previously.

So I plead with all readers out there. Do not give up hope. I am trying my absolute hardest not to. And I cannot bare to think that there are some out there that do.

And to that person I am referring to, by some miracle this is read by you, know that I miss you.

Know that all I want is to see you come home. I don’t care how far you’ve gone. Just come home.

-Jeremy Unitt


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