This particular friend, who I'll call Amber, sat beside my and stroked my back. She asked me what was going on, and when I told her, she prayed aloud for me.
"I'm so tired," I said. "I'm so tired of not being good enough for God."
Amber stayed there with me, listening to me sob and pour out my heart in choppy sentences. She reminded me that if Christ didn't save the imperfect people, then who did He come to save, after all?
Because of my inability to express my emotions, I ended up being unconvinced that I was redeemable. I got up and called my parents. I almost told them about my spiritual state, but I chickened out. I didn't want to tell them about how much I was struggling, even though I knew that doing so would allow healing to begin.
I just didn't want to confess that I wasn't the perfect daughter, after all.