Feet On the Ground

I’ve struggled with depression for as long as I can remember. People shrug it off when I’m down and they wave away statements that admit to depression, and I’ve been guilty of it with other people myself. But for me, well, my first stark memory is of being in kindergarten playing with a toy in the sand in the classroom and realizing that I was alone and that no one wanted to play with me. This stands out vividly. Not so much the whole thing of being alone and realizing it, but the first drops of that toxic feeling started, I believe, in that moment.

By the time I was in first grade, at 6 years old, I was thinking of ways to kill myself.

Six. years. old.

There is something wrong with that. I think that’s proof of demonic activities and attacks and that anyone is subject to them. It’s not natural. A six year old shouldn’t even be capable of those thoughts or have a reason to think them. It wasn’t because I had a bad home life or was being abused or anything. I hadn’t even realized that it was abnormal to grow up without a father yet, and it was a while before I would even realize that not having a daddy was something that negatively impacted my life. My mom was, and is, awesome. I know that she covered me in prayer constantly, and that’s why I haven’t followed any of those very strong urges to end my life.

Although I still think about it (and I’ll be honest, over the past few months I have actually had dreams of it which is something that has never happened before), there has always been something blocking me from actually taking action. It’s almost like a tangible wall that I cannot break through- and I’m very thankful for that. It’s obvious that God has some reason for keeping me here and that He truly does care.

What has been one of the hardest aspects of this is that I have had to deal with this for about 15 years. I haven’t understood why God hasn’t stepped in to lift this burden off of me. I was raised to take authority over the enemy and was always told that he had no power in my life and allllll of these other things that are good and right but that made me actually feel like I was doing something wrong and that it was all a punishment and that there was something within me that caused this to happen to me. I felt like I had the responsibility of fixing it, and until I did, nothing was going to go right.

There’s so much talk about abortion and how everyone has the right to live and moreover how life is a gift and….it’s all exhausting to hear because I did NOT and have not ever really wanted to live. I just haven’t really understood the point, and I’ve never felt free enough to ask someone to help me.

Please wait for the second installment before you try to report me to a suicide hotline!

Tags: nightmare, pain, silence

I got approved for the LSAC fee waiver. I can now take the LSAT for free and probably apply to any school I want for free. It’s exciting to have another green light. Also, completely terrifying. I mean, I honestly have no idea where I want to go to law school. There are a couple options that I’ve been considering because of knowing people there or accessibility, but nothing really feels right yet. I would love to do entertainment law more than anything, but to do that I’d need to go to a school in LA or New York and that just um, wow. Might be more than I can handle.

Something good happened that opened up possibilities and I’m completely shaking in my shoes right now. Well, I’m barefoot, but still.

Then I saw people tweeting about going to Story Chicago, a conference where Christians are coming together to study the art of story. A lot of people that I follow on Twitter will be attending and speaking there, and I’m so wistful. I want to be there. I want to be among people who understand that story is everything.

And with that thought…I was comforted. Not because it gives me an answer to my problems or a peek into the future, but because I’m living my story. Each step further makes the plot more intricate and complex. It becomes more interesting that way. The possibilities are increasing. I wish I could say that idea is emboldening, but it’s not. Yet. At least it puts everything into more perspective. My heartbreak? Not really that much better. But it just made my story more fascinating.

How in the world is it all going to come together now?

Another snag in the plot. When that happens in what I write, I sigh and wonder what the heck I’m going to do with these crazy characters. But there’s a much better author writing my story, and He never gets exasperated or shocked at a plot twist. He just knows, and every one fills Him with more glee.

My story is everything that I have to offer, and it will be glorious.

Tags: anticipation

I love my car. I got it a couple years ago, and it was one of those things that comes out of nowhere and is so much better than you ever expected. It’s really adorable. Totally customized. Won shows before the woman that owned it had kids and had to tend to “real life” rather than customizing cars. So I got her. It was 3 days before Christmas, and the way that it worked out was just a total miracle. I loved the notoriety and attention that she brought me. I had been so humiliated by even the people that I went to church with over the horrible car that I’d had before, so now it was like a fairy tale that I was the one driving the cute purple car with the carbon fiber hood.

I still get attention from having this car, and I’ll be honest- I still love it.

But she’s been systematically falling apart ever since I got her. It started with the crack on the side where the previous owner’s brother had bumped it. Then it got worse. Then my cousin repaired it and repainted it, but it kept happening. There are other cracks in the fender because it had already been weakened and the roads here are absolutely horrible. Really, the potholes mate like rabbits.

The seats are uncomfortable because they’re purple leather racing seats. There is no air conditioning unit. She’s loud and creaky and groans when I try to go up a hill on the interstate (and here, the interstate is like a roller coaster). The metal plate that they put in where the sideskirts attach to the car is rusting and looks awful because it was a shoddily completed job.

She looks good, for the most part. But when you get in there and really know her, she’s quite messed up. In some really obvious ways.

Fitting, isn’t it?

I love this car. I can’t imagine driving something else with more personality. I don’t want to go from my gorgeous girl to some plain normal car of which there are thousands on the roads already. I don’t want to lose the notoriety, the attention, the admiration. I don’t want to fade into the background. I don’t want to be unspecial.

But something has to change. I’d love to have the money to do a complete overhaul and get things fixed up the way they should be. But would it be worth it? Some things can’t be fixed, or aren’t even worth fixing. Maybe it’s just time for something new.

Something completely different.

Something better.

I’m totally okay with that idea. And I know that if God can give me one miracle car, He can give me another.

And if He chooses to give me something that’s not so special so He can work on making me special…then I have to realize the beauty in that, too.

(Still, I’d like an orange Audi TT-RS please)

Tags: anticipation, change

So I wrote that post on hope and then tried to go to sleep. I was almost there, and out of nowhere, both my heart and my thoughts started racing. It makes no sense, and yet it does. As soon as I felt the hope, I also felt the need to capitalize on it and make it all work. I’m really bad at that, if you haven’t noticed.

That’s not the point of hope. Hope is the response to God whispering, “I have something for you.” Hope births anticipation and expectancy and excitement.

Not panic.

I always try. That’s something that Mom and I both use on each other: I try so hard. I’m not saying that we’re supposed to be lazy, but I think it’s kind of a theme in my family, and in women in general. We try and strive and when it doesn’t work, we internalize it and blame ourselves. Then when it comes around again, we try even harder because if it didn’t work the first time, it’s obviously because of something we didn’t do.

So here I am, someone who hears all the time about how smart and beautiful and talented and so many other adjectives that don’t really matter she is, and although that sounds conceited, I’ve grown to see how much those things don’t matter. Oh sure, I’d be extremely distraught if I woke up and all of those qualities were suddenly taken away- I’m honest about my shallowness. But when someone says something like that, it generally makes me want to bust into frustrated tears. I want to start wailing, “SO WHAT?!” All of those compliments imply that I just need to learn how to use those things to my advantage, and I’ll get ahead.

It doesn’t work like that. It isn’t working. It hasn’t, and it won’t.

At least, that’s how I feel.

I think I would be more comforted if someone just said, “You are loved and will be blessed because you simply exist. You’re here, and you’re worth more than can be measured and you don’t even have to try.”

That’s what God did when He sent Gabriel to speak to Mary. She was a poor, uneducated girl who had barely hit puberty and who was a nobody from the middle of nowhere, but she was seen and chosen. She existed. She loved God the best she could. And that was enough.

So why do I keep thinking that more education and more striving is going to fix my situation? If God leads me to law school, it will be because that path is the best one for me…not because it will give me value.

Speaking of which: if the LSAC doesn’t approve me for a fee waiver before next Tuesday, I can’t take the LSAT in December and I’ll have to wait another year to apply for law schools. So…pray for me. That the right thing will happen and I will have peace with whatever happens…and that I won’t try to “fix” it.

Tags: discomfort, learning, trying

When I drive home from a trip, I’m usually kind of sad. It feels like I’m leaving a land of fun and happiness and returning to the humdrum life of home. I usually cut my trips shorter than I really want to simply because I want to keep hold of that whimsical longing to be there. If I stay too long, it might grow dull- and that’s what I’m so afraid of.

But this time it was different. I don’t know what happened, but somewhere between the first and second tolls on the West Virginia Turnpike (waste of money and the roads are STILL terrible), I felt a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a while. Even before last Sunday, when my world crashed down completely, I hadn’t experienced this feeling with such certainty in a very long time.

Hope.

My immediate reaction: *$%! no!

Sorry, Mom.

I just really don’t want to feel hopeful.

Hope leads to heartbreak with an alarming certainty that I’d be willing to bet on. If, you know, I had anything available to bet. Which I don’t, so we’re safe. Don’t lecture me about the sin of gambling. I was just kidding anyway. I’d bet against hope and then it would win and I’d still lose! *scratches head* Or something.

Although it kind of made me panic, the hope brought relief. I’m not completely destroyed, at least not yet. And that means there’s at least one more chance for something to go right. For God to do something huge. I mean, He only needs one opportunity…

Tags: anticipation, hope

I love roller coasters. I really do. But not in my life. Lately, there have been so many ups and downs and I’m seriously not able to take it anymore. It’s like the Son of Beast. In theory, it should be great. Cleverly designed and looks awesome until you get too close. Then you realize that it is an absolutely terrible experience that attempts to bruise your body and dislodge your brain. Once you’ve removed the loop, it takes away all notoriety and is simply a really awesome looking pile of fail.

Okay, so I got rolling on my metaphor and completely forgot the point of this post. Well, while I’m trying to remember:

Yeah. It’s not as much fun as it looks. Or maybe it’s exactly as much fun as it looks, depending on your view of roller coasters. Really, it’s terrible.

Anyway, so I’m becoming increasingly questioning of religion. I don’t mean that I don’t love Jesus anymore, because I totally do. But it’s so weird because my life has been getting worse seemingly by the day, and I’ve had it pounded into me for my entire life as a Christian that things are going to get better and that God will provide and…..stuff.

But things aren’t getting better, they’re getting worse. I’ve always felt like I’ve enjoyed a special spiritual protection because I loved God and was so aware of His hand in my life, but now I walk around in terror that He’s going to let something bad happen. I hate this feeling. I know that God isn’t like that, but I’ve heard so many times that He is to be my shelter in time of trouble, and I feel like my shelter is leaking. Big time.

I feel like all of that stuff that I was taught by my “branch” of religion worked until it really, really got tested and I got hit with the real world. Now I feel completely unprepared and incapable of handling things, and I’m not really sure what to do or where to turn. Like, I know that God loves me and that He DOES protect me and everything, I’m just wondering how far this whole thing stretches.

I mean, what’s the point?

Why do we believe in Jesus?

I’m not saying this in a bad way, but as a way to return to the truth. Because if He promised that bad times were going to come and that He would always be there, never forsaking us, what’s the point of Him being around if He is capable of helping but doesn’t? Why does it matter if Jesus is here for me? I want Him here with me, but I think it’s mostly out of habit. I’d really like to know what the whole point of it is, because I don’t think I ever really learned it.

Tags: learning, uncertainty

I’m often accused of being overly emo and melodramatic. But seriously, things just suck a lot of the time and far more than they should. Case in point:

I’m out of town visiting my bff and we go out to my car this morning so we can go visit her mom. I stick my key into the keyhole automatically, and it feels funny. I look down.

I mean, for real? After all I’ve been through already lately which has gone on top of my life already being a normal pile of crap, I get this? Really?

I honestly feel like Job right now. Everything that matters to me is systematically getting checked off the list. I made that comment to someone earlier and he said, “At least no one has died yet!”

Way to fuel my imagination. Great. *headdesk*

So yeah. I’m being totally challenged right now. I’ve always been inclined to think that when stuff like this happens, you need to get all Pentecostal on the devil and take authority and all of that other stuff that sounds absolutely weird unless you’ve grown up around it. But it seems like that really isn’t working, and hasn’t for a while. I don’t want to be one of those people that just lets trouble run right over you, but sometimes it feels like there’s nothing else that can be done.

That picture is such an awesome metaphor for how my soul feels right now. It was pried open and the important parts were ripped out so the functionality is um, well, completely gone. Yes, the handle operates enough for me to open the door, but it’s not pretty and it doesn’t really do what it’s supposed to do.

I mean, this is specialty paint. It will have to be mixed up and applied in multiple different layers. It’s not an easy job, or a cheap one. It’s not something you can just color in with a Sharpie. It’s special. It’s easily marred and tough to fix. Putting it back together is going to take time and effort and a steady hand.

Seriously though. I’m not being overly dramatic- this stuff really does happen! And when there’s so much in a short period of time…it’s just hard to believe for something good.

Things can get really bad.

And then one good event happens, one good conversation takes place, and really good food is eaten. There are jokes and laughter and good music.

Even though things are still really bad overall, and the good times and laughter will fade and you’ll have to go back and face the whole big problem again sooner or later…it’s still nice to remember that things can be good. You can enjoy them, and be happy for a time, even though it doesn’t feel real because what IS real is hanging over your head.

Just for a minute, I substituted reality…and it was great.

Tags: appreciation

The other day, I was at prayer service and just as I was getting ready to leave, a familiar song came on. The line that stood out was, “You won’t relent until You have it all, my heart is Yours.”

Hmph.

I really feel like I have nothing left. Life seems like it’s such a strange dance with God. Seeing how much He’ll let you have before everything gets yanked away. I don’t feel like that’s His goal or that’s what the end result will be like, but I feel like I have been given very little my entire life and when I really start to appreciate it, it’s yanked away. I don’t understand. I know that God needs to go first and right now He is all I really have going for me, but it’s frustrating because I’m not sure that my motivation to go hang out with Him is really all that pure. I feel like I’m praying and reading the Bible out of obligation.

I mean, I want to do those things. I want to be close to God. But how much of it is out of complete terror that He’ll make something worse happen?

Most of me just realizes that really can’t happen. I’m already too low. This is a really good time to go to God because I don’t think things can get worse. Honestly, I’m at the point where I don’t really care if they do.

Then I get a little convicted because I know that God isn’t the one making these bad things happen. But He sure is allowing the enemy to let them happen, and that’s not putting Him on my favorites list right now either. I realize that this is heading dangerously near a tantrum thrown by a spoiled little girl…or maybe just one that has been abused for way too long. I want to see God as a loving father and I want Him to help me through this because He is the only one who can. But I’m just not able to make that picture in my head of what should be fit the reality that I see in my life right now. I know that He took this away because it was in danger of taking His place in my heart, but I don’t feel Him trying to replace Himself there and I’m afraid that the big plan really isn’t working.

I know in my heart that this happened so God can put me on a new course. In all honesty, I feel like the new course is not going to generate as much happiness and peace and joy and fulfillment as the last one would have had it all worked out “like it was supposed to.” I feel like I’m settling and that this is the next best thing because I couldn’t get the real thing. I feel cheated and robbed and frustrated.

But I can’t get any lower, and that is really the only thing that gives me any hope. It’s freeing. Whoever is doing all of this to me can’t take away anything else, and it’s a relief. If you have nothing of value, you’re not afraid of getting robbed. I don’t feel like my heart is really even of any value, so I can just toss it to God and it really doesn’t feel like a big deal.

I don’t think this is what I was meant to feel from this, and I totally don’t care.

Tags: fail

So. Bianca asked. Most people didn’t ask, just said that they’d pray. But she did, and I feel like she asked because she wanted to know how to pray most effectively. Not only that, she wants to grieve with me as I grieve. I’ve honestly never really had many people who considered me that important.

It’s an extremely personal matter, and I don’t feel comfortable putting many details on here because of how personal it is, how much I’m grieving, and also because it doesn’t include only me. I don’t want to hurt the people who are killing me. I don’t want to trivialize what I’m going through by putting it into mere words.

It was a romance. A romance that hadn’t really happened yet, but that I’d had a very small taste of, and something I believe that God was working out to give to me in the future. I believed and I labored in prayer over this like nothing I’ve ever prayed for. I put my soul into this. I was willing to hang on and believe for as long as it took.

And I just found out last night that it will never be mine. I didn’t even know that he was dating her. I feel so foolish. Completely duped.

It’s one of those situations where you can’t even think beyond, “What the hell?”

Because it is hell. What I’m going through right now is the most torment I have ever experienced in my life.

And now I know why tragedy inspires most writers. All I want to do now is write out everything I feel even though it doesn’t make sense. I think I could write forever out of the pain.

I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. He was the first person I loved, and he taught me that I could actually love someone and that I wasn’t too broken to feel like this. But he doesn’t care, and he’s killing me. He broke my heart and then sent it back.

I don’t want to write forever out of the pain.

I don’t want to grieve this. I spent a very, very, very long time believing for this and I am so not okay with giving more tears and more space in my life to pain. I’ve lived a life of pain and heartache and abandonment and hurt and rejection and I don’t want it anymore.

I’m constantly nauseous. I haven’t slept. I’ve never cried that hard in my life. Of course, finding out on Facebook that the most noncommittal man in the world got down on one knee for someone else didn’t help. He gave her a ring and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him. They’ll recite vows and kiss and she’ll bear his children.

Not me.

It’s a stark reality and I have to accept it and get used to it. I feel like I can’t function. I can’t breathe right. I can’t think straight. I just can’t do anything right now. I want to stop and sit and take comfort in familiar things.

Yet somehow, in all of this, God has been here. He knew that it would happen. I would never, ever, ever have believed for something so strongly had I not believed that it was His plan and His voice and His hand involved in every single aspect of it. I believed for the hugest miracle ever. Now I realize that I didn’t hear His voice at all, and I’m terrified of the implications of that.

But He picked an unlikely source to use to speak to me since I apparently have no idea what He sounds like personally.

David Crowder Band recently released a new CD called Church Music. Ironic title considering that it’s basically techno praise and swine flu will have to manifest in actual flying pigs before we’d ever play any of those songs at my church. Yet it’s basically the best CD I’ve ever heard, and definitely the best thing I’ve heard from DC*B. I got hooked with the album A Collision and was sorely disappointed in Remedy because it was really tame and “normal” compared to A Collision. But Church Music is just on a whole other level of weird. By weird, I mean awesome.

There’s a song called Church Music – Dance (!) and you can listen to it by going here and scrolling to number 13. It has a funky beat and really does make you want to dance. But the most important part of the lyrics are:

Dance if you’re wounded
Dance if you’re torn in two
Dance broken open
Dance with nothing to lose

Perfectly free
Dance if you want to be

It’s SO amazing that God knew that I would go through this and exactly when. The CD has been out for a little while but I just got it and listened to it this morning. It is the only thing that really got me through today without being catatonic on the floor.

You know how yesterday I said that I’ve given up on being happy? The song doesn’t ask me to be happy. It just tells me to do exactly what you don’t want to do when you’re wounded and broken open – dance. Just enter into mindless movements of celebration, even if you’re like me and have no coordination whatsoever.

I’m broken. I’m wounded. I’m not sure if I can live through this. But I can be free from the grief and heartache and all I have to do is live. I don’t have to figure it out. The situation tells me that I’m worthless and will always be a reject and that my hardest efforts will grant me nothing. But God says that I’m perfect in His eyes and that His Son made me perfectly free. To be wounded and dance, and it’s beautiful to Him.

(You know, all of that sounded great, but I’m still terrified and in more pain than I can imagine. It’s 2:41 AM and I can’t sleep and my stomach is completely empty but I feel like I’m going to hurl. And I keep watching the sneak peak video of Glee where Mr. Schu raps Bust a Move. I have serious problems.)

Tags: fail, heartbreak, men, pain, romance