The Thoughts That Won’t Leave

A Letter from the Wilderness

Liturgical Season: Great Lent

Scripture for Reflection: "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. Resist him, steadfast in the faith." – 1 Peter 5:8

I. The Battle in My Mind

I am a terrible mother. Oh, what a terrible mother I am. The words aren’t just knocking today. They are pounding, they are relentless, they are deafening. And I am angry. Not just sad, not just struggling, but angry—furious that I am here again. I am sick of this. Sick of the voices, sick of the lies, sick of this endless cycle. And yet here I am, standing at the door of my own mind, listening to their demands, knowing I should refuse them, but feeling too exhausted to fight. And worse? Some part of me wants to let them in. Not because I want to suffer, but because suffering is what I know. This is familiar. The despair, the self-loathing—it’s a well-worn road, a house I have lived in for far too long. It’s easier to just sink. And I hate that. I hate how easy it is.

II. The Thoughts That Refuse to Leave

My husband tells me something infuriatingly true: Thoughts do not originate with us. They come from the outside—from God, from the enemy, from wounds that refuse to close. It’s a comforting thought, in theory. But tell me—how do I stop a thought before it even makes it to my doorstep? How do I tell something that has always been welcomed in, "No. Not today. Not ever again." It does not want to leave. I can feel it lurking in the corners, pacing, waiting for me to slip. It wants me back. It wants me comfortable. It wants me resigned. And I am tired of it.

III. The War in My Soul

"You are bad." I hear the knock. "You always fail." It’s louder now. "God loves others more than you." And something in me snaps. Not today. Not today, you don’t. You have ruined enough days. You have stolen enough moments from me. I do not have to entertain every thought that knocks on my mind. I do not have to let them in just because they are familiar. I am sick of being their host.

IV. A Truth from the Saints

“If you want to be saved, learn to control your mind, to purify it, to sanctify it. The battle begins there. And the enemy does not rest.” – St. Paisios of Mount Athos

The enemy does not rest. And I am beginning to understand that I cannot afford to rest either. Lent is a time of battle—not just with food, but with ourselves, with our minds, with the thoughts that try to steal what belongs to God.

I cannot allow myself to fall into this pit and call it home.

V. Steadying the Flame: Taking Thoughts Captive

I am not calm today. I am unsettled. But I will not let my rage be wasted. I will turn it into defiance. And I will begin here: “You are bad.” → Who sent you? What is your fruit? “God loves others more than you.” → Would my Father ever say this to me? “You are a terrible mother.” → Does this thought lead me to repentance or despair? If the thought leads me away from God, it is not from Him. And if it is not from Him, it has no place in my heart.

VI. The Lenten Struggle of the Mind

Lent is warfare. Not just against food or comforts, but against the very things that keep us enslaved. I see it now. I see how the enemy doesn’t need to tempt me into great sins if he can keep me drowning in self-hatred. I see how he whispers despair in the name of false humility. I see how he twists my thoughts to make me think they are mine. And I see how God is calling me to wake up. Lent is not just about abstaining from food. It is about abstaining from the thoughts that keep us from God. It is about fasting from despair.

VII. Small Mercies: Today’s Glimpse of Grace

I am still angry. I am still wrestling with these thoughts, with my actions. But I will fight. And that, in itself, is grace. Maybe today I let too many thoughts in. Maybe I entertained them longer than I should have. But at least I see them now. At least I know them for what they are. And maybe tomorrow, I will not open the door so quickly.

VII. The Truth I Am Holding Onto

I am not my thoughts. I am not my worst moments. I am not the lies that knock at my door. I am not the sinking feeling. I belong to Christ. And today, I am fighting for my mind. Tomorrow, I will stand at the door again. And maybe next time, I will not let them in. And that will be the beginning of victory.

Closing Prayer

O Christ, I am tired of this war. But I will fight. Grant me strength to take every thought captive, to see clearly the things that are not from You. When I am weak, do not let me fall into despair. When I am angry, let it be for the right reasons. Lord, help me to fast not only from food, but from the self-hatred that poisons my soul. Amen.

+ Have you ever felt this rage in your struggle? How do you fight against the thoughts that refuse to leave? How does Lent challenge you to fast not just with your body, but with your mind? +