I Chose Life: A Story of Hearing God in the Dark
- Charlotte Simon-Rowson
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
There are moments in life that split you open so completely that even breathing feels like a decision you have to make over and over again. Before my turning point, I carried everything at once: grief that felt endless, exhaustion that lived in my bones, and the quiet ache of feeling alone even when people were near.
It was the kind of heaviness you don’t announce. The kind you try to push down with routines, responsibilities, and brave faces. But life has a way of revealing what the heart can no longer hide.
I reached a place where I was no longer myself. My smile had thinned into something fragile, and my hope was once steady, once familiar; however, my light was dimmed to a flicker. I could barely see. I was carrying grief, anger, confusion, and a sense of being completely overwhelmed. And when you hold all of that without rest, without release, without grace, there comes a moment when even the strongest soul goes quiet.
Standing at the Edge of Despair
I found myself standing on a train platform one day, wrapped in thoughts that felt heavier than my body could bear. It was the kind of place where despair tries to speak the loudest, convincing you that there is no way forward and no way back.
Everything around me looked blurry; the people were scattered, and the sounds were indirectly muffled. But the storm inside me was loud, echoing with the lies that pain tries to plant: You’re tired. You’re done. No one would notice. No one would understand.
Then, cutting through all of it, something happened. I heard the Lord speak to me, not once, not twice, but three times, “Get yourself together.”
The words were firm but deeply loving, like a parent calling their child back home. The words didn’t come from outside me. They came from that sacred place where God speaks when we are too broken to hear Him any other way. It was not condemnation. It was rescue, it was God reaching into the dark and pulling me back from an edge I was never meant to fall from.
The third time I heard it, my knees nearly gave out, not from fear but from relief, for deep down, I knew that God had not given up on me, even when I had given up on myself.
Scripture says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit,” (Psalm 34:18, NIV). I didn’t fully understand that verse until that moment. I didn’t need a miracle that lit up the sky. I needed a whisper that broke through my despair. And He gave it to me.
I stepped back from the platform.
I stepped back into life.
I stepped back into myself.
That was my turning point, not dramatic, not loud, but holy. Some call it coincidence. I call it grace. God met me in the place where I thought I was the most alone, and He refused to let me slip away.
Healing Was a Process, Not a Moment
Healing did not happen overnight. Redemption rarely does. But God began to rebuild me from the inside out, slowly, consistently, lovingly. There were days when I could only take small steps, days when grief resurfaced, days when choosing life felt like a quiet, daily “yes.” But every day, God stayed with me.
I found healing through prayer, through therapy, through community, and through writing, the place where my spirit could breathe again. My words became the bridge between my pain and my purpose. Writing allowed me to tell the truth without shame, to honor the parts of myself that survived, and to release the weight I carried for far too long.
God didn’t just save my life that day.
HE rewrote it.
Now, I walk with a kind of gratitude that can only come from surviving what tried to take me out. I no longer pretend that I never fall apart. I honor the pieces because they remind me of the God who put me back together. I understand now that survival is not weakness. Survival is worship. Survival is a declaration that the enemy did not win.
Isaiah 43:2 (NIV) says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” Not if ..when God never promised that we would not face deep waters. HE promised that we wouldn’t drown.
Saved, Rewritten, and Still Standing
My story is not about the moment I almost gave up. It is about the God who refused to let me go. Today, I choose life, again and again. I choose faith, even when the road is difficult. I choose hope, even when it trembles in my hands. I chose purpose because God didn’t speak to me on that platform, so I could stay silent.
If my story reaches even one heart, if it pulls one person away from despair, if it reminds someone that God still speaks in the darkest places, then every tear, every battle, every turning point has meaning.
I am here because God called me back into myself. I am alive because grace found me. Now, with every breath, I carry this truth: The same God who saved me still walks with me, talks with me, and HE tells me that I am HIS own.
Charlotte Simon-Rowson is a writer, poet, and essayist whose work explores grief, gratitude, healing, and Black womanhood. She is a co-author of Sacred Seeds of Wisdom, winner of the 2025 Distinguished Author Award. Her writing centers legacy, faith, and survival.
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