THE STORM
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God
will be with you wherever you go."
— Joshua 1:9 (NIV)
I was nineteen years old when I joined the United States Navy.
Part of me wanted adventure. Part of me wanted purpose. Mostly, I wanted to help people. My father, Corey, had served before me, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps.
At first, things were going well.
I excelled in basic training. I was consistently promoted into leadership positions and was on track to become a Hospital Corpsman. From the outside, my future looked bright.
What most people didn't know was that before I ever arrived at Great Lakes, I was already carrying a storm inside me.
The week of my high school graduation, three of my friends died.
Three funerals.
Three losses.
Three reminders that life could be taken away without warning.
The grief was overwhelming, but I kept moving forward. I joined the military and tried to focus on the future.
Then one night, lying in my bunk, I opened a letter from home.
I smiled when I saw it.
Finally, some good news.
Instead, I learned another friend had died in an accident.
I stared at the page in disbelief.
I couldn't make it home for the funeral.
I couldn't say goodbye.
I couldn't hug the people who were hurting.
I was trapped hundreds of miles away while another piece of my world disappeared.
Something inside me broke.
I cried for three straight days.
Then the tears stopped.
For the next eight years, I would not cry again.
It wasn't healing.
It was numbness.
Looking back, I realize the storm didn't begin on a freezing night in Great Lakes.
It began here.
One funeral became two.
Two became three.
Then four.
Each loss left something behind.
Grief.
Questions.
Anger.
Darkness.
The storm had already arrived.
I just didn't know it yet.
I learned how to function without feeling.
I followed orders.
Completed assignments.
Showed up where I was supposed to be.
From the outside, I looked fine.
Inside, I felt hollow.
Many days felt like I was watching life through my own eyes while someone else controlled the body.
The only emotions that seemed to survive were anger, hatred, and self-loathing.
I hated myself.
I hated people.
I hated being alive.
The darkness grew deeper.
So did the nightmares.
One night I woke up unable to move.
My eyes opened, but my body remained frozen.
Every muscle was locked in place.
Fear flooded through me unlike anything I had ever experienced.
Then I looked to my right.
On the empty bed beside me sat a figure.
Its eyes locked onto mine.
A grin slowly spread across its face.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't scream.
I couldn't look away.
For what felt like an eternity, I remained trapped there.
When my body finally released, I bolted upright in terror.
I had no idea what had happened.
I didn't know who to tell.
Who would believe me?
Later that night, I searched online.
The words I typed were something like:
"SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMON."
What I found shocked me.
People from all over the world described seeing the same figure.
Different countries.
Different languages.
Different names.
Yet the descriptions were eerily similar.
Many called it an Alp.
I remember staring at the screen asking myself a question:
How could all these people be describing the same thing?
I was too afraid to sleep that night.
Things only got worse.
My depression intensified to the point that I began seeing a doctor on base.
Every visit seemed to result in another diagnosis.
Another prescription.
Another attempt to fix whatever was wrong with me.
Within a few months, I was taking eight different medications.
Eight.
Looking back, that sounds insane.
At the time, I was desperate enough to try anything.
None of it worked.
The darkness remained.
Soon, suicidal thoughts became a daily companion.
Every morning I wondered how much longer I could keep going.
The only thing stopping me was the thought of what my death would do to my family.
But eventually even that began to lose its grip.
By then, the storm inside me had been raging for months.
The depression.
The nightmares.
The medications.
The hatred.
The numbness.
I was exhausted from fighting a battle nobody else could see.
Then one winter night, the storm inside me met a storm outside me.
It was one of the coldest nights of the year.
I was standing duty at Great Lakes, Michigan.
The Midwest winter is no joke.
The wind cuts through you.
The cold finds its way into your bones.
The military hadn't issued me clothing warm enough for conditions like that, and I already struggled with the cold as it was.
That night, a storm rolled in.
Rain soaked my gear.
Lightning split the sky.
Thunder shook the air around me.
The wind drove straight through my clothes.
Sharp pain stabbed my hands and feet.
I was freezing.
Exhausted.
Angry.
Broken.
And I had reached the end of myself.
Standing there in the middle of that storm, I made a decision.
I was done.
I had already decided how I would do it.
The pills were waiting.
Tonight would be my last night.
I tilted my head toward the sky and screamed.
"God! This is it! I've had it! If You don't show up tonight, I'm going to kill myself! Prove to me that You're real or I won't be here tomorrow!"
The moment the words left my mouth, something happened.
Everything changed.
Not just inside of me.
Outside of me too.
The raging wind became a gentle breeze.
The pounding rain faded to a light sprinkle.
The trees that had been bending violently grew still.
Lightning continued to flash across the sky...
But the thunder was gone.
Silence.
It was as if the entire world had taken a breath.
At that very same moment, something inside me changed.
Peace.
That's the only word I have for it.
Peace.
The pain that had consumed me for months lifted.
The hopelessness lost its grip.
It was as if someone had stepped into the middle of my darkness and flipped on a light.
The strange thing about pain is that after living with it long enough, it starts to feel familiar.
Part of me didn't want to let it go.
I wasn't finished being angry.
I wasn't finished blaming.
I wasn't finished hurting.
Yet somehow all of it seemed washed away in a single moment.
I didn't have answers.
I didn't suddenly become healthy.
I still had battles ahead of me.
I would continue wrestling with depression, rage, and hatred.
But one thing was gone.
The desire to kill myself.
Something had saved me from myself.
At the time, I didn't know who.
I only knew what.
Peace had found me in the middle of a storm.
The journey that followed would be spent discovering the One who sent it.
REFLECTION
For years I believed strength meant carrying everything on my own.
When my friends died, I buried my grief.
When depression came, I hid it.
When darkness grew, I tried to fight it by myself.
The storm taught me something different.
There comes a point where human strength runs out.
There comes a point where no amount of willpower, achievement, medication, or determination can fix what is broken inside us.
Standing in that storm, I had reached the end of myself.
Ironically, that was where hope began.
Looking back now, I don't believe God was waiting for me to become stronger.
I believe He was waiting for me to be honest.
Maybe you've never stood in a freezing storm in the middle of a military base.
But perhaps you've faced a storm of your own.
Grief.
Depression.
Fear.
Addiction.
Loss.
Anger.
Loneliness.
Whatever your storm may be, my hope is that this story reminds you of one thing:
You are not as alone as you think.
SCRIPTURE
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
— Psalm 34:18
QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER
-
What storm are you facing right now?
-
Where do you turn when you've reached the end of yourself?
-
Have you ever experienced a moment that you couldn't fully explain?
-
What would you say to God if you knew He was listening?
MY PRAYER
God, only You can truly reveal Yourself to someone whether they are searching for You or not. You chase after us. What I know is that we all could use this kind of love You offer us... unconditional. You compete for our love and our attention like a father who wants the best for his child. You send us on an adventure to know You. May our eyes be opened to see and our ears to hear the words of encouragement You speak to us. My prayer is that You set us free from the things that hold us back from taking the time to spend with You.
In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
If this story impacted you, I'd love to hear from you.
Blair Perrin
L I S T E N T O T H E S T O R Y
If this story encouraged you, challenged you, or reminded you that you're not alone, please consider passing it on to someone who may need it.
You never know where a story will travel—or whose life it may touch.
