Crying Myself to Sleep: Faith, Debt, and Learning to Sit With the Weight

When Truth Hurts: Crying at Night, Sitting With the Weight

Content note: This post discusses emotional distress and past domestic abuse.

I published a check-in post earlier.

This post was originally meant to be part of that update, but once I started writing, it was clear it didn’t belong there. It was too much—too heavy—and pretending otherwise wouldn’t have been honest.

These are things that needed their own space.

On Thursday—January 22, for context—I got a phone call I wasn’t surprised to receive, but that still hit hard. A collections agency, representing a bank I dealt with before everything collapsed four years ago, wants money. A lot of it. Somewhere between thirty and forty thousand dollars.

This exists because my ex misused the power of attorney she had over me. That’s the plain truth of it.

The threats the collections agent made were almost laughable—not because they weren’t serious, but because of how disconnected they were from reality. I know the position I’m in right now. If they take legal action, there is nothing to take. You can’t squeeze blood from a stone. When I said that out loud, she didn’t really have an answer.

Later that evening, I met with my mentor through New Connections Ministries before Bible study. My mentor has been a real blessing to me. He has struggled with many of the same things I have, and his lived experience means I can actually count on him for honest advice and grounded input—not just theory or platitudes.

The Bible study itself went well. It usually does. But I knew Friday was coming, and I knew it was going to be uphill.

I tried to sleep early. I didn’t sleep well.

Friday mornings are always hectic. I have a 7:00 a.m. Bible study at Peace Tower Church—my home church. With how unreliable transit is, especially in bitter cold, getting there is sometimes a small battle on its own. I aim for 6:30 so I can help get the coffee ready.

That men’s group was a gift to me, as it so often is.

I left promptly at 8:30 to get to my individual counselling appointment at CFS. This, too, was a gift. It’s a secular service, but my counsellor respects my faith, and that matters. Still, I’m struggling. I catch myself wondering what will become of me, even when I don’t want to ask that question.

What I’m really tired of—what is wearing me down—is crying myself to sleep at night.
That sentence matters. It’s not a throwaway line. It’s not poetic. It’s not dramatic. It’s real.

In counselling, I admitted things I never thought I would say out loud. I admitted that my marriage was far more toxic than I had allowed myself to see. My ex-wife hit me. Sometimes while I was asleep. I lived on edge for years. I stayed for the sake of the children, believing that leaving would do more harm than good. Looking back, I’m no longer sure that was true.

One of the hardest things right now is when my ex calls. Sometimes she sounds friendly. Sometimes she isn’t. I’ve learned that friendliness can be deceptive. She has weaponized things I trusted her with before—recently enough that I’m still feeling the effects. Because of that, I’m laying firm boundaries. I have to.

Last night was harder than usual. I felt deeply sad, without a single clean reason for it.

I thought about a coworker who carries an immense amount of pain in her life. I won’t elaborate—her story isn’t mine to tell, and I respect that. What struck me wasn’t her pain, though. It was my reaction to it.

In the past, I would have used a woman’s struggles as a way in. I saw women as a conquest. I had no shame about that. None.

Something in me has changed.

Years ago, I would have prayed that she found her way into my arms. Now I pray that her problems are resolved, that she finds peace, and that she can live happily—whether I’m part of that or not.

That difference didn’t come from willpower. I couldn’t possibly do this alone.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” Psalm 34:18 (NLT)

I’ve continued this reflection in a follow-up post, “When Regret and Loss Keep You Awake: A Raw Reflection”, where I dive deeper into feelings of self-doubt, family estrangement, and the steps I’m taking to move forward. If this post resonated with you, I encourage you to read the next one.

**Please note, unless otherwise stated, all images on this site are AI generated and do not resemble any real persons(s). Any resemblance to any person or place is purely coincidental.**