… but I was a razor blade away from a complete psychotic breakdown last night, and if I don’t at least try and say something, things are going to be just like November all over again.
Disclaimer: if you’re involved, your real names are going to be out here for all of cyberspace to see, and you’re going to have to deal with it, because some of this stuff needs to get through your skulls, and maybe this is going to be what it takes. And yes, if I come across sounding terse or annoyed, I probably am. I haven’t slept or eaten properly in four days, and for weeks, I’ve been agonizing about some of the stuff I’m going to try to get out here, and it’s ripping me apart. Nothing I can say here with your real name will hurt you even half as much.
Anyone who has read anything on this blog knows that I have a lot of issues: I am mentally ill, nearly always depressed, I self-harm, I’m on medications to keep me from trying to kill myself like I did in November, I have no control over any kind of strong emotions and they frequently paralyze me, I’m still not over social anxiety issues from my elementary/middle/high school days, insomnia and I do not get along, I have massive amounts of short-sleeve-anxiety, I never seem to speak at the right time, and I tend to let everyone down very quickly.
After a lot of thought, I think I am justified in being really hurt when people pull out the “we feel like you’re judging us” line, especially Ryan, because you’ve seen me trying to pull myself together after slicing up my arms, you were there the night I tried to kill myself. In case you didn’t know, I walk around every day knowing that I am judged every single time I pull up my sleeves — I get emo jokes form complete strangers, unbelieving stares from acquaintances, and awful awkward conversations from friends. I see my bosses staring at my arms, and wonder if they’ll hamper my job prospects later on in life. I see teachers and classmates staring and glaring and know that any social relationship I enter in to is threatened by those scars, whether I reveal them up front or not. You know this hurts me, I know I’ve told this to you, so why on earth would I want to subject someone else, let alone someone that I care about, to anything near that?! Come on now, please tell me that you know me better than that. There was never judgment against you or Corinne, that was in every letter I wrote, and I said it every time. I have no control over how you interpret things, but you kept seeming angry, so I left you alone. Then, I got scolded for isolating, for making Corinne upset (I bit my tongue through that whole exchange, because if I’m the only source of her stress, then you two should have let me overdose… I digress. That wasn’t totally necessary, but it needs to get out.), and for being a depressing person to talk to. “I miss just talking,” you said, and when I tried to initiate conversation, you were short with me, and I thought I was bothering you, so I stopped. Now we go days without talking. What the deal? Please, please, explain to me what is going on. Remember all the crap we went though over the summer? Remember dealing with our families and being stressed, remember those times when we needed to get out of our houses and just drove around? Where’d that go? If you hadn’t said that you didn’t hold the night I overdosed against me, I would think that had something to do with it. But, I’m not sure. I really just want to talk this out with you, but you’re always out and about someplace, or I’m too scared to bring it up.
Which brings me to something that I’ve been dealing with more recently. My anxiety levels keep getting higher and higher, and I keep finding more and more things to worry about. One that I keep coming back to has to do with next year and all the craziness that it is certain to bring. Corinne, Nicole, Ryan, Matt Contreras, Bo, and Mike P are all going to be living in the same set of apartments as Jess and I, which is super. But the way things have been going, at least from my point of view, I’m absolutely terrified that the first three people in that list aren’t going to have any reason to have anything to do with me. Perhaps my fear isn’t justified, but it is real, and the weekends where I don’t see Ryan or Corinne and barely see Cole, the days where I don’t hear from them, the weekends where I get home from work and don’t know where they are but am too scared to ask because I don’t want to get another “you worry too much, you prude” are fairy convincing. I talk to my mom about it enough that she thinks I need new friends, if that tells you anything.
(I don’t agree. I’m just scared.)
All of this? All of the worrying about school and next year and my sanity — all of it is peanuts compared to what seems to lie at the root of a lot of my worries. I don’t really know if I have adequate words to describe the kind of battles going on in my head on a daily basis, but I will try.
I am a rotten, filthy, broken sinner, and I know it full well. I see it everyday in the hundreds of scars on my arm, I am reminded of it every time I have to take my meds in the morning, and every time I catch someone staring or get an awkward question.
I am also redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ, and He has turned me into a new person. It took me a long time to get that, and I’ve written about it before (new creation with old scars, etc) but a few Thursdays ago (February 25th, to be exact), everything clicked somehow, and by God’s grace, I understood. Sitting in the prayer room, I rededicated my life to Christ, 101 days after my suicide attempt. I was laughing and crying and giggling and bouncing around and singing to God for the better part of an hour. I called my mom to tell her what was going on in my head, and I was so uncharacteristically happy and awake that she asked me if I was smoking something. Matt Cline and Bo came into to do some filming, and can attest to the ridiculous grin and laughter all over my face, as can Jess. It was an amazing night, getting that much closer to understanding the immensity of God’s grace, that it could cover someone as pitiful as me, and credit the righteousness of Christ to my soul, so I can commune with Almighty God. Unbelievable! This glorious truth fuels laughter with the pre-production gang before Cru meetings on Thursdays, laughs with Bo in psych, impromptu dancing to worship music in my room, or on my way home, and that same, Spirit-filled smile.
I try to talk about this and I end up just stuttering and grinning like a fool, and I am more than willing to be a fool for Christ. He gave everything for me — in spite of me.
Knowing that charges me up, and I find myself living purposefully, trying to introduce people to the same God who saved both my physical life, as well as my eternal one. There’s nothing else even remotely worthy of my energy. Nothing even comes halfway close to it. And so, with this frame of mind, when I see blatant sin in the lives of those around me, I hurt. When I see that same blatant sin in the lives of other Believers, my heart cracks.
And then I see it in my own life, and I shatter.
I don’t think you understand — without this Grace and mercy from the living God, Jesus Christ, the one who died because He loved someone as horrid as me, and because He loved every single person who ever was and ever will be just as much, there is no point! This isn’t something that can just be a one or two day a week endeavor, we owe Christ all of our lives! Can’t you see what He’s pulled you from? Don’t you see where He’s saved me from? How can you not deem Him worthy, why aren’t you falling on your face and worshiping?! There’s nothing else, no one else, nothing but death, and I would know, I’ve stared it in the face!
I understand that we all make mistakes, we all sin, and we’re forgiven and meant to learn from our error. But when there’s something in your life that you keep coming back to — things like Nicole’s language, Corinne and Ryan sleeping together, my supervisor telling me she can’t wait to get wasted after a long week, things like the old temptations I face to hurt myself –, you spit on the Grace of Christ. Repeatedly. Daily.
THAT’S NOT OKAY!
Oh my goodness, wake up! How can we trample on the Love that was beaten and tortured and executed because of our sin?! That doesn’t make any sense, it’s not okay, and it breaks my heart every time — every time I hear a fellow Believer let out a string of curses, every time I come home to find Corinne gone, every time I hear an obscene joke when I’m with “the churched”. There have been days where I’ve had to get up and walk away so no one sees me crying and tearing out my hair in frustration.I get the overwhelming urge to throw myself at something again and again and again, until I fall down and can’t move. I have been praying and praying and begging God to change my heart and the hearts of those closest to me, so that we would cast off the sins and addictions and worldly pleasures that we put in front of God daily. And then I come home to three Christian roommates, and it sounds no different than being outside. Sometimes I come home to two, and have to beat myself up to not struggle and stumble over the issue that’s bugged me for a long time. My own heart remains such a mess, even after what happened on the 25th. I feel tiny, and powerless, and useless, because I can’t even pray change into the lives of the people that I care about the most. If I can’t even make those kinds of changes, what’s the use of praying for anything bigger? Is there a point?
I’m already bawling, and I’ve only been typing for 1500 words. I don’t understand how friends, Brothers and Sisters that I turn to for advice and support can quote the Bible at me, hours after willingly stepping right back into patterns of sin, failing to live above reproach, cowardice, and pride. How — where do they get off doing that?! Why do I do it, what’s wrong with me?! Is it wrong that I don’t want to listen to that advice? I know my questions about prayer are heretical, but that doesn’t change the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach when I get going down that line of thought. I am so frustrated and so confused and so hurt that I can barely sleep, and I forget to eat until someone reminds me, or my stomach sounds like it’s trying to contain a wild animal.
And now, where do I go from here? I have no idea. Will I be able to sleep tonight? Probably not. Now that my mind is all worked up, and I came home from the prayer room to only two roommates, I’ll be lucky for three hours between now and 8 am. And then the cycle of discouragement will start all over again tomorrow.
I really out to sleep, I guess. I need at least a little rest. I’m sorry if I didn’t provide much closure, and there’s so much more I could say. Hopefully I’ll write again soon. Feel free to comment, I welcome discussion.
