Battle Royal

What brings us to tears will lead us to grace. Our pain is never wasted. – B.G.

Here’s the thing about prayer. The answers never come in the way you want. I prayed for clarity, and that’s what I got. Did it hurt like hell? Yes, it really really did.

The human condition has never been anything but a great messy battle. A war within yourself and against yourself. I would say that for the last 8 months or so, all I’ve done is charge into battle and get my ass kicked. BEATEN. BLOODY. BROKEN. And I did it again and again. Every single day. Now…. I want to be angry. I want to blame them. I know the struggle was always mine, but I’m justified to say that I was left alone to fight when my battle was no secret. I want to be bitter, and hardened, and angry. But I cannot. Because I know God’s heart… Because I don’t want my own heart to turn dark. Even though it would be easier. It would be soooo much easier. I want to say that they don’t deserve me caring at all.

“Screw them. You do you. If you have to make them the villain to get over it, then do it!” That’s the advice I’ve gotten. It’s a tempting option. Soooo, of this world… That’s not what God wants. I know that much. And I HAVE to choose the road less traveled.

All I’ve ever wanted was to love them correctly. Love them the way that God intended for me to love them, even in the muck and sin and struggle. All I wanted to do is be the friend they want and need. That when they need an ear, I’m there as a FRIEND. That when they need another’s opinion, I give them my thoughts and advice as a friend, ignoring what I feel and what I want. Because they are important and precious to me. Their happiness is important to me. Their well being is important to me. Not because I get butterflies in my stomach, but because I don’t believe that my relationship with them is a mere delusion I’m trying to force into reality. I DON’T want that reality.

Loving sacrificially is the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted. If I could ignore the Holy Spirit, I would not wish to love anybody this way. How did Jesus do it….

Guilt. The thoughts came swarming: I am beyond redemption. Everything is always my fault. I can’t do anything right. I’m so selfish that I can only choose my sin. Every person I meet is better off not having met me. I am condemned and bound to my dark thoughts. I WILL LOSE EVERYONE. God will take everybody away from me. I am not worth anybody’s love. I am not pretty enough. I am not smart enough. I am not godly enough. I cannot lead anybody to Christ. Maybe I’m not really a Christian at all. If I really loved God with all my heart, the choice would have been easy and clear.

I don’t want to be there again. I don’t want to stand on top of a building waiting for the fall because I can’t shut out my thoughts. I don’t want to think about swerving my car off the road every time I’m behind the wheel. I out of control. I don’t trust myself. I’m so terrified. So terrified that my thoughts will get the best of me…. “Jesus take the wheel” have never felt so real.

HOPE. My first reaction was that I have to leave and that this is the end of a wonderful thing. As hard and painful as the whole process has been and will be, there has to be HOPE. I have to believe that God is able to reconcile anything and anyone. To say that any situation is beyond God’s reach and power is to put God in a box. And God doesn’t simply get stored away like that. He is the Almighty on High.

I am scared, and I want to run away, but the voice in my ear keeps whispering that this friendship is still salvageable. That honest, genuine friendship is still possible. That you don’t have to excommunicate yourself or anybody… It keeps whispering hope. But… what if it’s false?

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. – Matthew 5:3-9

Wait.

The Weekend. Funny how sometimes the best thing for you is more people – like too much people kind of more people. This past weekend was a jam pack extrovert’s paradise. Large study groups, big parties, after-church hangouts (that’s a little more usual), and talks, talks, talks. So much talking and doing and going that there wasn’t enough time to let my thoughts wander. Cut off before the spiral had the chance to start.

Then today, the quiet came. And I’m still okay for the most part.

Out of sight out of mind. That was Maurice’s motto for the weekend. Never works for long. I keep thinking back to the beach ball analogy. Some things are like inflatable beach balls. You can try to shove them down underwater, but they always pop back up. The more you shove, the higher they spring.

Nothing’s sprung, per say. I just feel this uncomfortable tingling under my skin. A decision I left off at the side and didn’t want to look at. I saw a glimpse of hope in dragging out the timeline. But the clock ticks and I can’t have my head turned away forever. I keep thinking that if I can just solve this one little wrestle on the inside, then it will be okay. That in the future, I’ll be able to go through with it. But, I can’t kick it. And I’m not helping myself. If anything, it might be getting worse. Hopeful thoughts are dangerous thoughts sometimes.

God knows my wrestle and I trust him. But my nerves want to react. Run, hide, hold back, give in, do the deed, avoid doing the deed? Whatever. What does it look like to wait on the Lord with this?

Dream.

My dreams have been more vivid lately. Scary vivid. Most of the time, I don’t remember them. And if I do, I know that dreams are just dreams and I’m not usually affected by them. But for the past 3 days, I’ve woken up either angry, anxious, or scared. These aren’t weird convoluted stuff like monsters, fairies, or cartoon characters. Just normal dreams with a few guest appearances from random people from my past. And some not so random. Would I be crazy to think that maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something?

No Breaks. Keep Running.

I’m gasping, my leg is cramping, and my lungs feel like they’re about to explode. But still, I have to run this race. There are no breaks. No rest stops. Lest I be swallowed up whole. The oasis is in front of me. I can see it. All I need to do is outrun the storm following behind. No breaks.

I’ve been like a lamb being dragged to the slaughter house. Wallowing and crying, anxious for the blade and the slicing that I believed will come. I was on edge about everything. I decided that maybe I needed a getaway. A break from Renew, a break from people, a break from whatever triggers are there that I cannot see. I didn’t want to spiral anymore.

When I mentioned to Ellis about going on a Prayer Retreat by myself, he was all for it. Time away from distractions and fear, processing with God and only God for hours and hours and hours. Get clarity, lay down my horribly gross sins, and find my identity in Christ. Just BEING creation with the creator. It’s a good idea. Then I mentioned taking a short break from Renew and maybe visiting some mega-church or something for a month. Low pressure, no obligations, and still worship God. I wasn’t planning to leave Renew but I needed to not feel like I’m going off the deep end every Sunday. I needed to get some air and fix myself since I’ve been failing in every way. I didn’t believe I can serve or be even a participant at Renew in the state I’m in.

Ellis’s response? “If you do that, you’re not going back

Then, he launched him into a whole spiel about how it doesn’t matter if we fail every single day, but we try anyways. That God already knows that we’re going to fail with people, that we suck, that we’ll have issues big and small in every season. He said he might not understand what I’m going through, but he was confident that this wasn’t the answer. Life is littered with angst and insecurity and fear and shame. We don’t cure ourselves by taking a breather. We don’t fix ourselves by not going to the church we are called to. Get closer to God by not going your church? Yea… that doesn’t make much sense. Was leaving Covina the right choice at the time? No. Was it good for me? Perhaps. Now, is leaving Renew, even for a little bit, the right choice? I’ve realized, No.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” – Hebrews 10:22-25

It isn’t that we need a break when we struggle. We don’t just drop our responsibilities as servants of Christ, to find ourselves again and fix ourselves. We don’t just sit and wallow at the back of the congregation when the service lets out because we’re suffering or struggling. We’re still called to do things and work and walk with people, DESPITE all the turmoil we’re feeling. And we may fail. It will feel like too much. We’ll get the urge to run away. We will trip and fall on our faces again and again and again. But we have an everlasting HOPE.

Hold on and keep running.

Some Change

The inevitability of change is something I’ve always been aware of. Yet, I can’t easily accept. People come and go. Friendships are shaped and reshaped. We grow up. We change. Like the smartphones we buy and sell and buy anew, we can’t get out of this cycle. I can’t get out of this cycle. I’m so deep in that I think I’m subconsciously waiting for something else to shift under my feet. Not waiting excitedly, but dreading.

My therapist keyed in on the word “secure” as I was talking. There are some people who I feel safe with, some who I don’t, and those who I just can’t figure out which side of the spectrum they lie. I’ve basically categorized everyone in my head (not that I’m going to name the order). But they keep changing from week to week. I’m never sure of anybody anymore. Who am I actually walking with when my feet are wobbly? Who will I call? This sudden insecurity leaves me completely lost every time I’m given an opportunity to hang out.

I’m rarely annoyed, but I’m easily stressed. It bugs me how low my capacity for people is now. I’ve spent a lot of time with people, hearing about their lives (which includes their problems). It’s a joy to process with them. But lately, I find myself fearing the load. I spent today listening to a friend rant for an hour, and I could feel my heart speeding and my head spinning. I don’t give feedback or have much to say or ask. I go blank. Where are the life-giving conversations and thoughtful questions and the lame puns?????? How can I be a friend if I can’t BE a friend?

Not to mention, my walls. Very few people get through my barriers and even though I feel bad for shutting the rest of the world out, I just can’t deal. There’s too much stuff. And even when I keep a few secure people around, I get the feeling those friendships are changing too. Nothing stays the same forever.

How so?

Well, #SassSquad (my group chat with Maurice and Willa) have been pretty quiet lately. The FOTD and QOTD just don’t have the same spirit stirring effect it used to. Or maybe, it’s what happens when more than one person in the group is silently struggling and/or are weary.

Some of my friendships have been put on pause if you can call it pause (since I don’t really believe in pause). They’ve been hard to keep up with, emotionally and time-wise. I think, slowly I’ll be taken off their lists of people they feel close to.

Not to mention all the people who either have left or are leaving. Helina, Patrick, Katie, Kevin, Steven, and more. Either getting married and moving away or answering God’s calling to serve and work. I’ve made my peace with these changes (mostly). I’ve had the time. It’s sad, but I’m happy for them. Life keeps going whether you’re ready or not. Even if it’s not your life. And I know there are others who are contemplating a move too. To escape. To move forward. To do some soul searching. As sad as I am that they might leave, it’s their lives and I hope they find what they’re looking for if they decide to pull the trigger and go. It’s just hard bracing yourself for news that may or may not come.

Lastly, there’s a friendship I’m still not sure if it would be better for my soul to let go of or keep. Both options feel correct and incorrect. Healthy and unhealthy. I’ve tried the in-between and I come out feeling torn up, drained, and angry all the time. The devil laughs and I shake my fists in fury. Prayer. Just lots of prayer…

Anxiety. I’ve mentioned this before: I never know what I’ll feel tomorrow.

This weekend was the worst. After a fairly chill Friday-Saturday, I visited a new church with two friends. It was fine and dandy. A little draining but that was no big deal, until the drive back when an unforeseen panic attack ensued. I knew that this new therapy thing was going to take time and that nobody is fixed in a day (or rather a month). And I knew that I would still have episodes of sadness and detachment. But it was as if I was back in Ben’s apartment replaying my first panic attack.

The paralysis, the trembles, the heavy breathing. I was looking at my hands on the steering wheel and all I thought was “this is not my hand….” My heartbeat thumped above the traffic noise. As I drove the rest of the way home, part of me really wished I had asked Greg to stay with me before he left for basketball. But I already felt like a downer and a burden so I told him to go.

Home. If I had sleeping pills, I would have downed the whole bottle. Instead, I just hugged my pillow and rolled around and around. I kept thinking about that week of insomnia 2 months prior, and how by the end of it I was standing atop of the Meridian Garage, contemplating the fall and the illusion of peace. Being alone had always been a safe haven for me. But that day, being alone was the most frightening thing. I was afraid of what I might do if nobody was there keeping me accountable. Let’s just say I’ve been told more than once I’m reckless.

The episode lasted 2 ½ days. After going out for awhile Sunday night, I finally fell asleep. I stayed in bed most of Monday. I couldn’t get up. Going out seemed improbable. My chest thumped every time I thought I might be stuck there forever. Paralysis is a b****… Tuesday came, and it was July 4th. I got myself hyped enough to go to a BBQ. Sitting in the pool helped. I think the upbeat spirit of the holiday and the environment got me out of the hole for a few hours. I’ve calmed. The symptoms subsided. At least for now.

It’s so easy to be angry at God because of our moods. The why’s and the what-are-you-doing-up-there. Do my cries reach His ears? They must. They do. I have to believe that. And I have to believe that there is a lesson. That there is a purpose to this whether it’s to increase faith, create empathy, or grant me understanding. There HAS to be more to this suffering.

Something Good

The Interview. It didn’t happen the way I expected. I didn’t think I would tear up in front of the program director when talking about missions. And when she check the Accept box on my application right in front of me, I have to say I didn’t see it coming. I thought about what it would have been like if it happened any other way. If it had been a rejection, then it would be a sign that this wasn’t the direction God wanted me to take. Or if I had gotten in by a more traditional route, where I wait a few weeks for their decision before the YES, then I would say “oh, well a lot of people decide to go to grad school when they don’t know where to go” (a very selfish and All-Me decision), rather than believe that it was a God-ordained thing. The atypical way the whole ordeal went was a confirmation that my decision was true north. Your reading the post of an official candidate in CBU’s Masters in Counseling Psychology Program!

Counseling. Steven gave me her number a few days before. I didn’t contact her right away. To be honest, I had my reservations about the prospect of finding a counselor. And it sounded like she wouldn’t have much time for me, seeing as she’s both a professor and a practicing therapist. Why help me for lower pay? And being so wrapped up in my interview stuff, I pushed contacting her out of my mind. Until it hit.  I was sitting at my desk, eating a pasta, and watching a show. A perfectly relaxing time, when it crept up out of nowhere. The welling up of negativity, the emotions, the panic, and the tears. It wasn’t like the other breakdowns. It came faster and was a lot more volatile. Then I gave in. I emailed her. To my fortune, she responded within a few hours and the next thing I knew, we had a Skype session scheduled for the following day.

Depersonalization Disorder. Apparently, I display symptoms of this. I looked it up after our session. WebMD says that its when a person would experience episodes of disconnection and detachment. It’s like having an out of body experience that is usually a reaction to some sort of trauma/trigger. Like an outside person looking in. The person is still connected to reality, but they are aware that the reality is distorted somehow. The awareness becomes stressful and causes panic. And looking back on how I described my experiences in an earlier post, I would have to say it sounds about right. It’s not a conclusive diagnosis. I only had an hour with her. But it’s a start.

God. God gave me all that in a week. One answered prayer after another. He is good and he is working. It was hard believing that, no matter how many times I preached it to myself. But maybe it just takes a lot of God dragging me around kicking and screaming and whining and crying before I begin to see where he wants to bring me to.

A Few Friends

In my journal, I wrote that May was the worst month. When June came I was relieved that May was over. Did I really think that all the downs of May wouldn’t flow over? I’d like to think I’m not that dumb. But maybe I am. Or maybe I was just clinging to some hope (real or not).

The depressive episodes are getting worse. Steven sent me the contact to a counselor from his seminary. I’ll probably give her a call soon, but for now, I’m still in limbo. I can’t eat and I love eating. I don’t know how to talk anymore, which is frustrating because fun/life-giving conversations is my specialty. Not anymore. I can’t control what comes out of my mouth. I use to be able to bite my tongue and calm my gloomier thoughts. But now,  everything that comes out of my mouth is covered with a much angrier and withering view than I’m used to.

Friendships.

Maurice and Willa are good constants. I don’t feel like I have to hold back as much. Though, I still want to have a more colorful lens when we talk. Our Fact of the Day / Question of the Day has been a good anchor during my more off days. They’re like breaths of air when I’m drowning. I love the natural rhythm we have. I don’t think this is something that’s very easy to find. How lucky am I to have stumbled upon it. Sometimes, I feel like I might become a burden, and I’m still trying to navigate that. I don’t really know why I haven’t completely shut them out yet. Maybe it’s because they seem to be able to read my moods better than other people. Maybe it’s cause I know I can’t escape them. Their persistence is the best and worse thing about them.

Greg’s always shared a lot with me. His transparency and intentionality are things I value a lot. We’ve had more ups and downs in this friendship in the span of 6 months than I’ve ever had with anyone else. Most people I don’t let very close. I enjoy them and I share, and I can even go deep. But if it takes a turn for the worse and they leave, I just let them go. This friendship with Greg is harder to navigate and much harder to let go. Our rhythm is a little different than Maurice and Willa’s. We used to have amazing spirit-giving talks whether they go deep or not. Lately, it hasn’t been so. This is where I notice my failures the most. My inability to speak, to laugh, to encourage, or to joke becomes a thorn I can’t pick out. Level-headedness is something he said he appreciated about me. And in this season, I feel more out of my mind than ever. So I held back. Even though he offered to be my ear and my person for this stupid depression thing, I couldn’t get myself to actually tell him anything (even though I really want to). Because I didn’t want to be too much and too negative and too scatter-brained. I didn’t want to be dropped. And even though I’ve said some terribly mean things about our friendship (because pushing people away is my other specialty), he still tries to be a good friend. He doesn’t just let me leave without talking things out, and he puts food on my plate when I couldn’t do it myself cause I was falling down the rabbit hole again. Whenever we hang out, the only thought that goes through my head is how much I wish I can go back to the energizing, supportive, and talkative person I used to be.

Kristen’s been growing a lot. Though she struggles, I think she struggles well. Eyes to Jesus. She’s been having more bad days than good, and I understand a lot of what that’s like. Maybe only I think this, but her and I are pretty similar. We’re both allergic to emotions, we like to deflect, and we run from people a lot. It takes a lot of effort to convince her to do anything. But I keep trying because I know deep down she wants to be with people. And I haven’t been wrong yet. I try because I’m the same way. I’m stubborn because I’m afraid. It takes some people a long time to push me out of my comfort zone. Most people drop it after the 3rd or 4th “No thanks”. But I’ve realized that what some need is not a small nudge, but a forceful shoving. Kristen and I are just like that. Even though we met each other not too long ago, there’s a familiarity and comfort  I enjoy. She a great person to talk scripture with and share about church perspectives, if not anything else.

God. Sometimes I don’t know if He’s silent or I’m just a terrible listener. The past week of not being able to move or work left my spirit sulking in sin. I just think, “I’m suffering and I don’t know how to get out of it” or  “God’s redemptive power isn’t enough to get me out of my head” or “the entirety of my life and me as a person is a mistake… I serve no purpose.”

Something to pray over:

And I will give you rest,” i.e., I will stay you. Not – I will put you to bed and hold your hand and sing you to sleep; but – I will get you out of bed, out of the languor and exhaustion, out of the state of being half dead while you are alive; I will imbue you with the spirit of life, and you will be stayed by the perfection of vital activity. We get pathetic and talk about “suffering the will of the Lord”! Where is the majestic vitality and might of the Son of God about that? – My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers

Stop sulking. Get up and out. But not by my power, but the power of Christ. My wallowing and sulking displays my lack of faith, and I’ve been letting this fester into guilt. I do not get out of bed by myself. I’m not able to. But if by chance I do get up, it is because God has lifted me up. By his power, I rise. And by his power, I will continue to move forward.

This Quiet Week

This week has been fairly quiet. Which is good. I stayed home, did some homework, binged Netflix, and read a short devotional here and there. I wasn’t itching for people or to go out. I wasn’t bored out of my mind because my mind was busy. But then again, it’s always busy up there.

Then the fog descended. A little trigger leading from thought to thought to thought. Just faster and faster. The overarching theme? I feel like I’m incapable of doing anything. I went from the college me, holding down a 20+ hour job at an office, doing ministry work, full-time school, extra classes outside, volunteer stuff, to this post-grad me, doing absolutely nothing. I’m scared of failure. And I’m scared of not being mentally stable enough to commit to any job or school or even volunteer work. But maybe that’s an excuse for my fear of failure (which I know is a stupid fear). It deters me from finding part time work or studying harder or preparing for my interview next week. Suddenly, I can’t even get out of bed. It took a lot just to move or walk the dog. I’ve fallen into slothfulness, and I feel pathetic. And alas, the guilt. I feel guilty and ashamed because I don’t want to stay still and I want to move. I feel like I owe my parents to at least go forward. And for some reason, that makes it harder to keep going.

Breathe. Focus on the positive. Look for hope. It’s getting harder.

Sometimes, people ask me how I am. I don’t have an answer.

I’m Good.

I’m Fine.

All defaults because there’s nothing better to say. Or sometimes I’m a little more honest and I say, “I don’t know how to answer that” because I really don’t. Most of the time, that is met with silence because the other party doesn’t know how to respond. They’re uncomfortable. And again, it’s somehow my fault.

Caution: Don’t ask a question if you’re not ready for the answer.

But thanks for asking, I guess.

 

 

Processing

My last few posts have been incredibly morbid. Sorry. I wish I could wield my brain to not think about suicide or death so much. I’ve been trying to dissect my brain bit by bit. WHY is it getting harder and harder to control my emotions? When did things start looking so dark?

Counseling. It would be great to do this with a professional, but the first place I contacted never got back to me, which prompted me to contact them again. They put me on a wait list a second time and said someone will call me two weeks later, which never happened. My cynicism, fear, and anxiety told me to give up after that, so I did for another month. Then I tried calling a new place, which didn’t take the insurance that I had. I wanted to call them back later and figure out something, but it didn’t happen. Family stuff. Different opinions. Sticky things. So I gave up again. And I haven’t tried any other place since. It might be an excuse, but it’s hard getting up again by yourself when the little bit of effort you’ve muster gets crushed multiple times already.

Dark thoughts. Here’s what I’ve processed.

I realized that my moods are harder to control when there’s a lot of people. Like there’s too much going on or I hear a lot of different conversations around me and voices start to blur. I get triggered. Everything gets really loud in my head and I start feeling unstable. I start thinking really fast to the point where I can’t retrace my thoughts. Which is probably why I get so frustrated that nothing I say or think makes any sense when I try to explain what I’m feeling or thinking to other people. I can’t trace it back to the original thought. The catalyst.

Also, I find myself slipping into darker moods when I’m really fixated on something that I’m either trying to figure out or that I can’t shake out of my head. Like an idea or question or unprocessed lie/truth. And I’m trying to think positively or just stop thinking at all, but I keep failing.

For example, if I see or hear something that stirs a strong reaction from me, I become fixated on it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I try to think my way out or around but then it arouses other thoughts and feelings. Then it all turns into frustration and negativity. It’s a dark spiral.

After that, it’s just a lot of headaches and struggling with insomnia. And reading/Netflix/writing/exercising can’t take my mind off it. Like I’m trying to keep busy by myself but it doesn’t really work.

Anchor. My friend thinks it’s a stability issue. Like, my church community isn’t stable, my friendships are still new enough that I can’t be confident that they’ll last, my school/career path is up in the air, and there’s nothing tangible that can keep my anchored to the ground. It’s like I’m in the ocean and trying to swim with no life jacket or anything to hold onto.

What do I do? Maybe I’m not trusting enough…

Are You Okay

They don’t stop. The tug and pull. The nudging. The thoughts all blur together. Down the rabbit hole I go. I’m being driven mad. So many feelings and thoughts that don’t make sense. And in the midst of the confusion, the only voice I can make out is the one that says JUMP. And as I walk over the bridge of Freeway 57, I really want to listen to it.

Yes, it happened again. The hesitancy, the awkwardness, and the distrust were building up as I sat on the picnic blanket eating my 8 little chicken wings in the middle of the church picnic, surrounded by a group of people I couldn’t talk to. I felt the separateness and after failing to shut out all the hateful thoughts in my head, I knew I couldn’t stay. So I walked away. When I got to the sidewalk, I kept walking. When I got to the main street down on Yorba Linda, I kept going. Over Freeway 57 and all the way back to the parking structure I almost jumped off of 2 weeks before.

Short Rant. I hate this question: Are you okay?

Why do I hate this question?

  • Because most of the time, this question gets asked in a public setting, where the person being asked will always feel the pressure to answer in the affirmative. There is a room filled with more than a dozen other people, do you really expect me to break the last bit of resolve I can muster? There are more appropriate times to cry. And as much as I value transparency, breaking down in a room with a bunch of people I don’t know that well will never feel safe. And maybe I’ve been conditioned to say, Yea I’m fine. Sometimes, those are the words that come out of my mouth before my brain even processes the actual question.
  • Also, because the person asking already knows the answer. Nobody asks anybody this question unless they think the party in question is NOT okay. Which in most cases, the party is definitely not well if they can’t even pretend anymore.
  • Plus, if I answer with, No I’m not okay, then I’ve condemned you having to dive down the rabbit hole with me. You, my poor friend, would be forced to ask me follow-up questions and sit there listening, and feeling confused and unequipped to help. You’d have to waste your precious time on trying to care for me when you can be doing something else, or talking to someone happier and more fun. And that kind of sucks for you doesn’t it? Because if you try to throw some half-hearted encouragement and then just walk off because you didn’t REALLY want to open the can of worms, you’d come off looking like a real jerk. And I cannot condemn you to that sad reality.

And those are SOME of the reasons as to why I have a hard time answer this question. Because I WANT to tell the truth, but the truth is so risky. It’s not anybody’s fault. Because, technically, they tried. They at least made the effort. And to be honest, if I ever do end up jumping off a building, that will be the one thing that keeps them from feeling guilt.

“O well, we tried. So our hands are clean.”

“She just didn’t want help. Can’t blame anyone but herself”

“You can’t control what people do”

“It’s sad, but it’s nobody’s fault”

All valid statements. So why does it hurt to hear them?

The fight for joy is the fight to see. I can’t see the path in front of me. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. Whether I’ll be okay or not. I can’t differentiate the people who love me from the people who will hurt me. I can’t see the glory of the gospel. I don’t know what is true anymore.

I know the word is so important. So, so important… Be grounded in the word because that is the only real true thing we have. And even when we have it, it’s hard to see it for what God intended. I keep fighting to see God for who he is, but I don’t see anything. It’s so blurry. So, so blurry…