Don't Rant & Drive (Vlog)

I'm going to bed.

Living With Depression: History and Background (Part 1)

The other night while I was driving back to Moberly from Columbia, I realized that while I've talked briefly about my depression in various blog posts in the past, I've only touched on minute aspects of it and have never actually talked in-depth about what my experience with it is like on a day-to-day basis. So this sparked up an idea that has surfaced intermittently in my mind over the past year or so: a series of blog posts dedicated solely to talking about my personal experience with long-term depression.

IS THIS REAL LIFE? A BRIEF HISTORY AND BACKGROUND

My earliest memory with depression was fifteen years ago, when I was nine years old. It may have started sooner, but this is the earliest that I can look at it and think, "Yep, that's depression." I had been chapter 51'd for attempting suicide by walking down the middle of the street hoping to get hit by a car. While I don't remember much from the hospital itself, I remember being one of the younger kids there. I also remember my dad coming one night to take me home. I can only suspect it was not an authorized release, because he told me at the time not to tell anybody, and when we got home he instructed me not to turn any lights on, but rather closed the blinds and lit a couple of candles. I never actually learned why he did what he did that night, but I do have a couple suspicions. Nevertheless, I digress.

Though social and familial isolation while growing up definitely played a role in feeding my depression, there is also much, much more to it that I've talked about in various blog posts before. One Little Lie and Cutter are two reads that I would recommend in terms of adding a bit more context to the storyline. Most of my memories between the ages of nine and sixteen are blurry to me; unless a memory surfaces randomly in my mind, odds are I won't remember it. I remember "going crazy" (as some may call it), talking to myself and getting lost in mental fantasies only to return to a reality that was generally cold and foreboding. My distaste for reality, of course, spurred more and more elaborate fantasies, sometimes blurring the lines of reality to the point that my dad would question whether my "friends" were actually real (the truth is, I lied to my dad about having friends until I was fifteen just so that he wouldn't worry about me). Had I actually opened up with my counselor as a child about these fantasies, there's a chance I may have actually ended up institutionalized for how closely they sometimes bordered on psychosis. 

The question of whether or not I experienced psychotic episodes as a child is one that I've pondered in great depth, but also one that I've never been able to come to a definite conclusion on. Mostly, this is due to the fact that I was always in control of the fantasies and knew what was real and what was not. The closest I came to a psychotic episode was when I was fifteen and in juvi; I found myself so caught in a mental fantasy (which I had created as a way of coping with the reality of being incarcerated) that for a few brief minutes, I legitimately lost touch with what was real and, in a moment of realization that I can only attribute to a transcendent force that I had not yet become aware of, snapped back to reality. This is the primary incident in question; the rest were less severe. I would have internal dialogues with "voices" in my mind, but I always had some degree of control over them and always realized that they weren't real. I've always chocked it up to a hyperactive imagination.

Though my INFJ personality does lend to being more reclusive than most, depression while growing up certainly affected my ability to socialize. Combine that with the fact that my dad worked most of the time (which I admire to a degree), I found myself alone more often than not and generally operated on my own, internally, intuitively, and spontaneously. Unfortunately, I was also an angry child, lacked moral guidance, and was almost continuously on probation. My early teen years found me in and out of juvi, and eventually locked up for a stretch that lasted fourteen and a half months. Needless to say, I didn't exactly grow up with ideal conditions for becoming a mentally healthy adult. I knew this, too, but only continued to make matters worse for myself; instead of doing something to make a change, I played the victim and blamed everyone and everything but myself, avoided responsibility, and through it all I didn't care. Every day I felt like my head was in a fog; the lines of reality were so blurry that I couldn't make out what I should or shouldn't do.

If there's one thing I'm grateful for, it's that my depression wasn't particularly known while I was growing up. Truthfully, I didn't even know what to call it until recent years; I just knew I felt like shit all the time. Aside from a few incidents that raised concern, I have little doubt that I may have been institutionalized had I been vocal about the truth regarding what was really going on in my mind. I knew this to a degree, and so like many people with whacked-out minds, I was left to fend for myself (mentally speaking, that is). Now I'm not saying that I was utterly insane, or that I should have been institutionalized, but it certainly could have happened. I often wonder why God didn't allow it to happen, but always find myself grateful that it didn't; I've met people who were, heard stories of atrocious things that had happened in such places, and would thus never wish institutionalization upon anybody with mental health issues.

I was seventeen when I tried to kill myself. If there's one thing I remember, it's that the blade was cold, and that it only stung for a moment; once the adrenaline kicked in, I couldn't feel anything. I watched the blood flow and then stop, so I jammed the blade deep into the cut and flicked it outward, watching the gash get wider and wider until the blood started flowing again. I can't honestly say whether I actually cut a vein (because frankly I'm no expert when it comes to medical things like how fast blood flows when you cut a vein), but I remember starting to feel weak and tired after a little while; despite the adrenaline that masked the pain, I just wanted to fall asleep. Nevertheless, I only found myself angry that it didn't work. I've talked about this, before, so that's not what I want to focus on; besides, the scars have faded some over time.

What I do want to focus on is this: I continued to cut myself, intermittently, up until I was 20. I've often told people that I stopped cutting after my suicide attempt, but that's not the truth. The last time I cut myself was during my first year of bible college. One night, almost on a whim, I decided to personally hand my box cutter over to the men's residence director and explain why I was handing it to him. But hold your applause; I only stopped cutting because I was afraid of getting expelled and being left alone halfway across the country with no home to go back to. However, I handed the blade to him personally instead of simply discarding it because I wanted somebody to know that I wasn't okay. And this is where I get to the point of all this talk about self-harm: despite being depressed, I longed for a sense of home, for companionship, and for somebody to know.

This longing is a thread that I can see playing out all through my childhood, teenage years, and very early adulthood. I would be lying if I didn't say that it's still a present thread in my life and in my thinking. Yet the very nature of depression makes it difficult to reach out for help. As a teen, I feared that I would only get in trouble if I asked for more help; I was already under pretty close supervision as it was, and I wasn't about to put myself in a situation that would require even closer supervision. Sure, I had a counselor (who I was required to see), but I didn't even talk to him; either my dad was sitting in on the session, or I feared he (or my probation supervisor) would find out nonetheless. When you're depressed, your first thought isn't that people care about you; neither is it your second, third, fourth, fifth, hundredth, thousandth, or millionth thought (if your mind operates as fast as mine does). I found myself rationalizing to the point that I was convinced that nobody really liked me, and that my isolation was my own fault for being so undesirable.

Yet during all of it I had things that I wanted to do, things that I would become passionate about (even if I lost interest after a while), things that kept my hands busy. As I was generally alone a lot (despite being closely supervised), I found myself absorbed in things that would offer my mind something to focus on, a safe escape from reality. If anything, it offered short-lived blips of happiness that speckled my reality like stars in the night sky. But the problem is that it was always short-lived; I couldn't find a lasting solution to my depression. No hobby that I wrapped myself in could satisfy me. There was no word that could soothe, no blade that could cut deep enough, no pill that could fix, no patch that wouldn't shrink and rip off.

It was as though God wired me as an INFJ with depression (or allowed it to happen) so that only He could satisfy me. It may sound weird (even preposterous to some), but it's how I think nonetheless. Yet I've been told by well-meaning Christians over and over that "if you just have faith, God will set you free from your depression." Little did they know that their words damaged more than they healed; it left me envious of those who seemed to get better and made me question my faith and whether God loved me. I ask: what's so difficult about supposing that God allows some to be depressed so that His glory could be displayed in their lives? Two stories come to mind. The first is John 9; the story of the man born blind, whom Jesus healed. If you haven't read it, go read it now and then come back to this. Jesus said he was born blind so that God's glory could be displayed in Him. The second is 2 Corinthians 12, where Paul prayed and prayed for God to remove "a thorn in his flesh," to which God simply replied, "My grace is sufficient for you."

Perhaps I'm wrong, but I think that depression and other mental health issues are simply an effect of what sin did to this world (i.e. that depression is simply "part of this fallen world," as some would say). I don't think being depressed makes a person any less lovable or desirable, and I don't think that my relationship with God is dependent upon whether or not I am depressed. Though I used to believe the opposite (that if I didn't "feel" God close to me, He wasn't there), I want to encourage you that you're not alone, and God loves you; God has allowed you to be the way you are for a reason. Don't doubt for a moment that He has your best interest at heart. Even if it's dark, He is there. This isn't some sort of sympathetic attempt to paint a silver lining, but the truth: Jesus suffered just as we do. He understands our pain and our struggles. Even if it's dark, He's right there with you, and you're never alone. 


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Part two of this series is coming soon. Keep an eye open.

End of Semester (again)

I've figured since the semester has ended and I'm now left with a decently open summer to work and relax and think, I may as well resume blogging (it's been more than two weeks since my last entry).

The busy nature of the end of the semester made it as such that I wasn't adequately able to clear my head and think straight. Struggling to overcome the academic hardship I had brought upon myself through procrastination, catching up on late assignments, submitting papers at the last minute, and pleading for extra time definitely left its mark on this semester (and not in a good way). Most of the classes I was taking were actually quite easy, so easy that I brushed them aside to return to the mires of introspection and wrap myself once more in the familiar cold of depression. This has been a particularly difficult year for me, trying to pick up the pieces of myself in the aftermath of the manifested danger of investing too heavily in one person while trying to decide where I really stood in relation to God and faith. The most difficult portion, definitively, was realizing that the faith I professed I did not live out; that is, while I claimed to believe God was sufficient, my actions clearly showed that I did not.

Of course, the implications of such double-mindedness are far-reaching. I firmly hold that life must be considered holistically (and that compartmentalization simply does not work), so to give you a further glimpse into how my mind and thinking work, here is how I understood the implications of my own hypocrisy. If I claimed that God loves people, and God does not show partiality, then I had to accept that He loved me. But to reject it meant that I had to reject that He loved other people. All of the time and energy I had previously invested in trying to show people their worth before the Creator of the universe was thus being poured down the drain, so to speak; it was impossible for me to truly believe their worth while I loved some but hated others. It was further impossible (if there is such a thing as more than impossible) for me to believe their worth if I was trying to drag them into sin with me. And yet all the time I had spent (intermittently) in ministry went to nothing if I didn't truly have the love of God in me (by definition of what the Word says and what my actions showed, I did not have the love of God in me). I actually wrote a song about the struggle between theoretical faith and practical doubt, and have played it several times for people who only thought it was simply meant to be poetry.

And here I wonder if I have the love of God in me even now; there are people who I cannot stomach to be around, people who I find myself speaking negatively of in secret, people who I deliberately avoid and otherwise blatantly ignore for the sole purpose of not having to subject myself to their mindless or otherwise irritating babble. I refuse to open myself up to people simply out of preemptive judgments I've made regarding their ability to comprehend anything in enough depth to make my talking to them at least worthwhile; often, I find myself feeling that I'm better off saving my breath. Conversely, I frequently withhold from posting an actual status update (versus simply sharing a link) on Facebook because I believe that nobody would even care and that I'm thus better off not even bothering to move my fingers across the keyboard to type the words. 

I didn't want to share this before, mostly because of how personal and immediate it was, but depression hit me harder this year than it ever had before. As the days drug on and on, the calendar began to blur together and some nights I found myself sitting catatonic in my room, unable to even move my thumbs to text someone for help, let alone open my mouth to talk to them had they actually arrived. Some nights, it was a struggle just to stay standing up in the shower and not collapse involuntarily. I numbed out harder than ever. Ascend the Hill sums up the feeling: "Someone make sense of this, I beg you now. Where is grace in this? Where is love in this? Our time is running out. This ruined city longs for the vengeance of our God, but we can't see 'cause ashes fill us all. Broken bones, they still feel numb; oh, the mourning had begun. Corrupting ourselves, God save us now." Being depressed in the midst of people who are full of joy is a bit of a two-edged sword; on the one hand, it's encouraging to be around people who try to lift me up. On the other hand, it's disheartening to see other people overcome something like depression to live lives full of joy while I still feel stuck in this pit. Eventually, even those who promise to stick around move on to more lively friends (save one, a person for whom I cannot express how much I am grateful for). 

Nonetheless, what is easily the most important moment of the year came about roughly a month ago. In August/September, I decided to ignore Christianity and effectively left it behind to pursue my own selfishness, despite having returned to bible college. In December, after a dear friend pleaded with me to at least try to hold on, I decided not to denounce the faith, but at least to ride things out for a while so I could have time to riddle some things out. And then, last month, I found myself utterly face-to-face with the reality of Jesus (and of course the far-reaching implications of such), and knew I finally had to get off the fence and make a decision: either leave my selfishness behind and return to Jesus, or completely harden my heart, depart the faith, leave Central, and allow my selfishness to rule me for the rest of my life.

I wasn't going to make a decision willy-nilly, but I also wasn't going to automatically rule one way or the other out of fear. It wasn't until someone (I honestly can't remember who) reminded me of the love of Christ and how real it actually is that I made up my mind to return to faith and follow Jesus. I'm actually going to church again.

Last Sunday I went to a music store with a friend and played an electric guitar for only the second time since I think January of 2014. The first time was at the music store last fall, and I hated it; playing brought about a swell of emotional memories that I couldn't handle. I actually had to put it down and walk out of the store. This time around, things were different. I picked up a 7-string and played a little bit of Invisible Year (if you've listened to Invisible, you've heard the original concept and should at least have an idea), and to my surprise, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long, long time: passion. I felt alive, like I was falling in love. My hands remembered the notes and the structure of the song better than my mind did, and I was surprised to hear myself playing the full spectrum of rhythm and lead simultaneously and without struggle. It was as though my body had been waiting for the familiar feel of a 7-string guitar neck so it could resume its old forte. I think that after I move in December, if I end up where I think I might, I'll have to start saving to get an electric and amp for the studio. 

Speaking of the studio, I've officially kicked off "project Toaster." To give you a little insight, "The Toaster" is actually a name I've given to a computer I'll be building sometime this fall specifically for audio production and video editing. Although I did purchase the first part for it already, it could be a while before I buy other parts. This comes for a couple reasons; first, most of the parts are very expensive and my bank account couldn't handle trying to purchase them all at once, and second, I'm only buying parts as I find excellent deals on them. In other words, I'm shopping for parts as I can afford them, and buying only when the market is just right. That said, here is a list of parts that will be going into it. Certain parts, like drives (both solid state drives and hard disk drives) are naturally bound by the the speed of technological advancement to get cheaper as time goes on, so I won't be buying those until much closer to the build date. Other parts, like the CPU (processor), motherboard, and case, won't be getting any cheaper for at least a couple years, and I'll have to watch the prices daily to make sure I catch them at just the right time. Why monitor the market so closely? Simply put, to stay close to my budget; if I purchased all of the parts at full price, I would be paying well over $1700 to build this thing; I would very much like to see how close to $1500 I can push it down. 

And speaking of close, it is getting close to midnight, so I must get some sleep. I thought I would come up with some super cool conclusion to this post, but I suppose not. At least I'm blogging, huh?

There Goes the Savings... Whatever

A Piece of Your Love

Tonight I recorded a concept for a new song. It's one of those that came from something I had scribbled in my journal long ago and never bothered to finish. Originally designed to be a spoken word, I decided to modify the original idea, flesh it out, and turn it into a song. Video included. Interestingly, due to the physical setup of how I ran everything, this is also how I'd sound if I were to play for people online, whether it be Skype, Chatroulette, Google Hangout, or even using a live streaming service. If I can get that static noise out of things, I could flesh out my sound more and have something halfway professional sounding.


WARNING: LOW QUALITY




This song is one of those that, while I definitely plan to put it on my EP, I hope my old man never hears it (obviously, it's about him). I've pretty well accepted (or at least concluded) that he's beyond any ability to really understand anything I try to say, so even if he did hear it, I strongly doubt it would have any effect on him. If anything, it's therapeutic for me to be able to sing it.

I've talked about him a little before (in previous blog posts) but I've never gone into much detail about my (good as non-existent) relationship with him. And this isn't to put all of my stock in MBTI (trust me, I could care less what someone's personality type is), the fact that he's an ESTJ and I'm an INFJ, combined with the reality that those two temperaments have the most difficulty getting along (the INFJ is a deep thinker with deep-seated emotions and wants to be known and loved,  while the ESTJ just wants things to run in a way that is manageable, and doesn't understand or have patience for the feelings of others) has helped me to at least say this: I've done what I can, and I do what I can, and I will continue to do what I can, but I know there's not much I can do about the detachment between us other than accept that I'll never be able to have a relationship with him that isn't shallow at best.

I'm sure I'll write little tidbits about him here and there in other posts as I go along. I absolutely do not plan to write a full-blown entry about him. As much as he can be an absolute douchebag, he's my dad and for some reason I have never been able to reconcile (with the reality of what emotionally abusive relationships are and what they can do to people who don't outright leave them), I love him. That said, if you ever really want to get a picture of our relationship, just read through all of my posts from the beginning until now, and then keep up after that. If you're able to read between the lines, you'll figure it out.

Wrench

Today's one of those days where nothing seems to add up and I have an unrelenting hunch that something is not right. Something feels off, and I can't figure out what it is. It bothers me to no end, too; I've had this feeling in my gut ever since I woke up this morning, and I don't know why. What bothers me the most is not know what it is. I know that it means something, but what? What is my intuition trying to tell me? Could I simply be forgetting something? Double-scheduling, perhaps? Is something due today that I've forgotten about? Or could it be something more serious, grave perhaps? I just don't know, and I've been bothered all day because of it.

It doesn't help that the semester is starting to wind down and I'm still in catch-up mode. I've prioritized my catching up (focus on current assignments first to keep those grades up, since I have grading deals already locked in place for late work). Maybe it's just academic stress & pre-career anxiety? Nah, that can't be it. That's been subtly there in my subconscious mind. This feeling is too strong to simply be stress. It's too prominent. It's not just gently tugging at my mind, it's screaming, clawing, and fighting to come into the light. Or maybe, maybe, it's the other way around. Maybe it's something that God is dragging, clawing, kicking, and screaming, into the light.

Light.

Perhaps what I need is to actually spend time with God. I haven't done that this semester, and I think I've only been to church maybe six or seven times since August. I haven't really touched a bible except for academic work (though what I do read, I mull over for quite a while). I feel like there's a war inside my heart; I've finally decided which side to take, and now that I've decided that I'm going to hold fast, the other side doesn't want to have it that way. Sin doesn't like to let go. There's comfort in the dark; depression makes me tired, and it's not easy to sleep with the lights on. Understand my double meaning (if you don't understand by now that I often speak in double meanings, then you've really missed a lot of what I try to say). 

Maybe what's going on isn't either of the things I mentioned two paragraphs ago. Maybe now that light has been flicked on, it's clawing at the light switch, trying to turn it back off so that it won't be exposed for what it is. Because sin doesn't like to be seen for what it is: ugly, vile, parasitic, undesirable, and toxic in the grand scheme of eternity. There's a reason why addictions are often kept secret, and why secrets are so addictive. Sin likes to hide in the dark. 

And of course, I'm not some pinnacle of holiness, or even someone (or something) I'd want anybody to look up to. I'm a pretty fucked up dude. I've got just as many problems as anyone else. And it's so easy for me to fall into a pit of self-loathing, and to starve myself from the only source of life and energy that can sustain me. But I know that if what I've learned in bible college is true, it's that Jesus is the only source of living water, and that the living water he offers will satisfy my every hunger and quench my every thirst. "He who comes to me will not thirst." He wants to be my satisfaction. 

And now we come back to the wrench in my gut. Perhaps in the writing of this entry, I've sorted myself through to what it is and what it's about, and I think I've figured it out because it's easing up. So if this (what I've just spent the last several paragraphs writing about) is right, then I know what I need to do. Not to make the wrench go away, but because I know about Jesus, I believe what He says about himself, and I know the implications of such.

But ah, it's just a wrench. I probably just need to eat something.

Ugh

As of recent, I haven't been very talkative, either online or IRL. The truth is, I'm just tired and want some space. I promise it's not depression-related (at least, I really hope it's not), but all I want to do as of recent is disc golf and sleep. What that tells me is that I'm sick of sitting inside and want to get out and enjoy the weather while it's enjoyable. It also tells me that I'm too busy and need to lighten up a bit on the things that I can lighten up on (social life, internet, etc.), so that I can more feasibly take care of the things that I need to take care of (work, academics, etc.) without becoming overly stressed like I'm so prone to. Also, the winter makes me restless and jittery, wanting to get out but not having much to do. Then by the time summer rolls around I've worn myself out and all I want to do is relax. 

I'm powering through the end of this semester with a vengeance. During the entirety of my collegiate career, I've never been this far behind on anything. I'm scrambling to catch up on old assignments while trying to remember to do current assignments. Shame on me for procrastinating for so long. Moving off campus has been refreshing in regard to being able to actually sleeping at night, but more challenging than I had expected in regard to staying motivated to keep on top of my academics. Additionally, this is my second to last semester, so I know by this point that any hope of raising my GPA the .08 points necessary to earn that shiny gold honors cord has already gone out the window. If anything, I just want to keep myself above a 3.3 by the time I graduate. If what the graduate advisers at Stout told me is true, then as long as I stay between a 3.0 and a 3.5, I should be golden for getting into grad school. 

Speaking of grad school and graduating and the end of my undergrad and things with the word "grad" in them, I have no fucking clue what I'm going to do with my life when I graduate in December. Odds are, I'll wind up back in Wisconsin, but doing what? There are a few stressful things about the prospect of graduating. First, the excitement of finishing school is only making it more tempting to slack off. Second, since I'm a student worker, my current employment will end as soon as I walk across the stage and receive my diploma. Third, I know that no matter where I end up, for the sake of my mental health, there's no way I can let myself end up back at my dad's house. So what does this mean? Well, I need to bust ass and get my academic work done. Finish strong, right? But on top of that, I also have to find myself a job to go into after I graduate. I'm starting to look into options for that now, because I don't want to find myself between a rock and a hard place, a diploma in one hand and an empty wallet in the other.

Of course, there's also the pressure of wanting to find work that will actually be something meaningful to what I want to do in life: helping people. In particular, I would like to get a job in which I would be working with juvenile delinquents. Of course, there's not much in that area I can do with a bachelor's that will earn a sizable income, but it could be just enough to get me by financially while gaining experience that will help me when it comes time to start grad school. And speaking of grad school, I don't even know if I want to start in the fall of 2016 or if I want to wait until 2017 or even 2018. There's just no real knowing at this point. Lincoln Hills (the juvi I spent over a year of my teenage life in) is almost continuously hiring for youth counselors, and I've heard that my past experience as an inmate there could be greatly beneficial to the kids having someone they can relate to and who can relate to them. With any luck, this could be my foot in the door to a decent career doing something actually meaningful.

On a lesser note... I am an impulsive spender. By impulsive, I mean I set out on Friday to spend maybe $100-130 on two pairs of shoes, and ended up spending $375ish on two pairs of shoes, Starbucks, Chipotle, jeans, and here comes the big kicker, studio monitors. Of course, I'm fairly okay with the monitors; they'd be somewhere between $400 and $600 new, and I picked them up used for $180 at Music Go Round. There's nothing wrong with them, so far as I can tell, and they sound phenomenal (and look right at home) here in the studio. See?

You can kind of see in this picture, but I've also set up the work space to have the computer placed under the desk, with a separate monitor, keyboard, and mouse up top, so that I can help eliminate some of the computer noise that likes to bleed its way into my recordings. I still need to find a way to really block out that space under the desk while recording so the computer is better isolated, but that'll have to wait a couple weeks until I can finish these last couple songs for class and I'm ready to start actually recording everything.

Anyway, I need to tuck this away so I can go take care of some things that are calling my attention, like homework and an appointment (that internship life, yo). So, until later.

Bitter Jealousy

Today I must confess something. 

I have found myself, for the longest time, bitterly jealous of "cradle Christians"; people who grew up in Christian families, Christian homes, going to church, learning about scripture and Jesus, and having a beautiful, almost naive faith that seems unencumbered by things that so easily weigh me down. I scoffed at many of my bible college peers simply because I would give up my whole life to have what they seemed to take for granted: whole families, Christian parents, solid spiritual support networks, a church to call home, and a deeply rooted faith. I hated them.

If that's you reading this, I'm sorry.

And then I get jealous; oh, do I get jealous. Not that I would ever wish calamity on someone like that... If anything, I wish they could see their situation through my eyes; perhaps they might appreciate it more. But I get so jealous of them, because things that seem to come easy to them just don't come easily to me. Some things which they have had ingrained into their minds since an early age I am just recently coming to grips with and am trying so hard to put into practice. I feel like an acorn sitting on the ground next to an oak tree, feeling so small and intimidated, trying to find a place to grow roots without disturbing the space that they have clearly been occupying so long before I came around.

Maybe some seeds aren't meant to grow.

As an "outsider welcomed in," I find it incredibly difficult to fit in to the bible college social atmosphere even after 3 1/2 years. I feel like an awkward bud in a field of flowers. Instead of embracing the process, I became jealous. I grew cold. I envied every person around me for one reason or another. Perhaps I wished I could have their kindness, or their social charisma, or their musical ability, or their money, or their seemingly naive willingness to submit to authority. But the people I am most frequently jealous of are those who seem to be deeply and immovably rooted in the faith. I often find myself wanting more than anything to be able to say something that I will never be able to say: "I am so grateful that I grew up with an example of faith and love." Maybe I'm just too scarred to stand among models.

But I failed to address my own disorder. Instead of watering my own lawn, I grew increasingly jealous of my neighbor's grass. Instead of accepting that my brokenness would require a long and careful process of God putting me back together, I chose instead to sit in pieces, staring at others who were whole and wishing I could be like them. Sure, part of it is depression, but that's no excuse. If creator-of-the-universe God could do all the amazing things shown in scripture, then my own depression stands no chance. But the biggest problem is that I want to be like everyone else around me. My own talents and abilities never seem to be enough.

I wonder how many of those people I find myself jealous of find themselves jealous of me. It sickens me how much calamity is glamorized. Those who should be bursting with joy and gratitude for the examples of faith they grew up with often find themselves full of discontent, wishing they could have the cavalier story of one who grew up in a context like what I grew up in. And yet I, who should be grateful for how much darkness God overcame to find me, and should be exulting in His glory, and bursting with joy and gratitude and singing praises about how great and powerful He is to save a wretch like me, find myself instead discontented, wishing I never had to go through the things I did, and am still going through.

Maybe I need to just be still and let God do His God thing.

Birthdays and Bad Days

My birthday was a couple days ago, so I treated myself to something nice. That is, I picked up this new recording interface from Amazon. Saved fifty bucks on it with the sale price, too, and got it for $199. And, as you can see by the box, it comes with Pro Tools Express and Ignite by AIR. Not too bad. The disadvantage to Pro Tools Express is that the two most frequently used plugins aren't available without upgrade to the regular version of the software, but the advantage is that upgrading to Pro Tools 11 is only $200 and allows free upgrade to Pro Tools 12 when it comes out, which is very cost-friendly as compared to buying the full software outright for $900. The rest of my equipment should be coming soon, too. All $535 of it (bringing the total up to $735). My bank account is looking rather sad after taking such a heavy hit, but I'm sincerely hoping that I'll be able to garner some, if small, financial backing to help offset the cost. I also hope to use this in the future to perhaps make a little bit of money recording local artists.

But today, a couple days later, was just... a generally rough day. Actually, I must rephrase. The first half of today was pretty amazing and I was in a fantastic mood after last night. Then I went home from my first shift and... Anyway, the second shift got off to a decent start but for some reason, my mood crashed mid-shift. It could just be tiredness from the headache I was battling today (further reason for my concern about my mental health; I was in a great mood despite a headache), but the crash was sudden and hard. I'm doing a little better now that it's late and I'm mellowed out, but I hate these mood crashes. They're brutal and leave me wondering why this has to continually happen to me. It's nights like tonight that, while I trust that God has a plan and purpose for me in the context of the Kingdom, I can't help but feel a little bitter and discouraged that I have yet to figure out why I am the way I am.

But, recent events (that I may talk about later on, when they're not-so-immediate) have me feeling hopeful that things will be trekking upward. 

I just need to keep on trekking.

Winter's Cold

The winter here seems to be rather cold this year. But the coldest part about it isn't the weather. No matter how cold the winter gets here, it will always be warmer than Wisconsin. So really, it's never that cold. But yet there is a coldness in my heart and a bitter chill in my bones that I cannot shake, but rather is spreading and intensifying by the day. At the end of the day, my emotions crash, leaving me incapable of genuine empathy and simply going through the motions of what I know to do. It is an emptiness that I would never wish upon another.

I become discouraged too easily. Each time I talk with my closest friend, they go on and on about this incredible journey of faith that God has them on, and how much they are growing by the day, and while I am genuinely happy for them, it only makes my own emptiness more apparent. Here I sit in an actually worse spiritual spot than I was when I first met them. But here's what they don't tell you in bible college: spiritual distance is still distance in a relationship. It's true that two cannot be unevenly yoked. It places an awkward strain on our friendship. 

Normally it would be a strain for the friend on the higher ground to stand up, but for me it is more of a strain to not follow them. But every time I get up and try to follow Christ, I fall back down and I begin to feel paralyzed. I used to feel level with them. Now I feel like a burden, like they are now so far above me and I have fallen into their shadow. I know this is inaccurate thinking, but the strain is still there and I can still feel it.

On the one hand, it shows me more and more how much I need to pursue faith, love, and righteousness with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart. On the other hand, it makes me feel so utterly incompetent after all the grace I've received that I actually want to pursue God less. As the picture become clearer (to me, though my friend), these eyes see fire and terror and I become discouraged because I know that only God can save me, yet I feel as though He is uninterested, as though I've reached my grace limit and He has said, "Nah, you're done." The more my friends pursue Jesus, the more saddened I become.

I used to believe that hell was reserved for the afterlife, but I am becoming increasingly convinced that we experience degrees of it here, in this lifetime, dependent upon where we are in relation to the cross of Christ. I say this because what I am feeling literally feels like hell--separation from Christ. And no matter how I long to return to Him, the distance grows colder and colder. If hell feels like being separate from God, then this is hell.

Unlucky in Love

The Plus is probably my favorite Eau Claire venue to play at.

So it's been a month since my last entry. Here's a quick catch-up:

• December 19th I returned to Wisconsin for ten days or so to hang out with my family. Played an open mic at the Plus and it was rad, as always.
• Returned to Moberly, don't remember what day, talked with the folks I was staying with, and I moved in under a month-to-month rent agreement.
• The new semester started and I found out that the I.T. department only has a limited amount of student worker hours still available to give me through the end of June. I picked up a couple Saturday shifts in the cafeteria dish room to make up the difference and conserve my I.T. hours.
• The semester itself has been rather busy and less-than-satisfying after having a semester chocked full of counseling classes with two of my favorite professors. I have some young hotshot professor who thinks every student's life revolves around this one class and that nobody has other time-consuming responsibilities to take care of. Needless to say, if I wasn't on such a tight academic schedule, I'd be dropping the class. Another class I'm less-than impressed with, even if the professor is pretty cool. The rest of my professors and classes are awesome.
• Oh, and that "older mic" I was talking about in my last post? It's an Audio Technica Pro 37, and it works like a dream. I used it over break to record a collab project with a friend and record a concept that I recently re-mastered. I think I'll use a SM58 in the future for vocal recording, though. And the SA-M20 gave me hiss like none other, so that's out for recording (which is fine, since some online talk alludes to the idea that it's horrible for recording). 
  
  
  

Abbi tracking vocals for her song collab. Again in the background, the noisy Tapco.

Okay, enough boring stuff that nobody cares about. Last week was Revival Week here on campus, and Thursday was Day of Service, which is a pretty big deal. It's an even bigger deal if you're in student council (which I am). Ironically, I skipped Day of Service to drive back to Wisconsin to get an early start on the weekend. See, I wasn't going back for Valentine's day. I don't even have a girlfriend, and am still questioning whether I even have an interest in something like that at this point in my life. No, I wasn't going back for Saturday the 14th; I was going back for the night of Friday the 13th.

The event's name was Unlucky in Love, and it was a pre-Valentine's acoustic show which I was invited to open for. So, away I went on Thursday. Hung out with the dudes from Stay Strong on Thursday night and went home just before noon Friday when my dad got done with work for the week. I figured I'd go home and work on some academic things for a few hours and then head downtown for the show, but my dad had other ideas. He wanted to fill out a punch card that required buying drinks at different establishments to enter to win a collectible New Belgium bicycle. So, we went out. A few hours and a few bars later, we made our way home. And I managed to get a little pre-show practice in before heading downtown to the Plus.

Rad, the guy hosting the show, wanted me to go in the back door. So I went in, and immediately went back out because it looked super creepy in the back; I thought I had the wrong door. But, as it turns out, I did have the correct door, so in I went. Making my way around the corner, past the kitchen, and up a short flight of stairs, I came through a door that put me right next to the stage. 

Oh, so this is why he wanted me to come in the back. They moved the stage. That make sense. A little further back so traffic between the dining room and the bar would be less condensed. 

There's something you should understand: the bars in Wisconsin are generally pretty nice. I didn't realize just how nice they are until I came to Missouri. The places around Moberly are dingy, smelly, hazy from smoke, and generally not places I want to hang around. Around Eau Claire, they're generally fairly nice, clean, well-kept, and of course, they're not full of smoke, thanks to Wisconsin's statewide public smoking ban. Yes, in Wisconsin, you can go out to a bar and not come home smelling like smoke. It's absolutely fantastic. The Plus, in particular, is one of my favorites (mostly because of its place in the local music scene). 

Anyway, even though I was on time, I was ridiculously early. For a show that was slated to kick off at 9 and sound check around 7:30, I ended up sitting and hanging out with Andy Elwell for a solid hour before the rest of the performers started showing up. My dad and stepmom showed up around 8, and the restaurant side of the Plus was starting to fill with people who were coming for the show. My glass ran dry and I walked over to order another drink, and turned around to see my mom and her fiance standing right there. She was pretty upset that I didn't tell her I was coming up to Eau Claire, but she was excited to see me. 

What the heck. You didn't even tell your own mother that you were going to be home?

See, in cases where I'm only in town for a weekend, I figure I only have time to hang out with one set of parents, so I have to choose in advance who I'm going to inform of my plan to return, and who I'm going to leave in the dark. It's just easier for all parties involve that way, because I don't want to try to budget one weekend between two sets of parents, and I don't want one parent to feel short-changed if I spend more time with the other. 

This has generally been pretty easy for me to handle, too. Even though my parents only live a mile apart, they're worlds apart it's pretty easy to compartmentalize my trips home, keep family matters separated, and pretend that everything is okay. I've learned to not ask my parents for advice because they give me such widely varied opinions that I'm generally left to fend for myself anyway, so when I do visit, it's usually pretty cordial. And of course, when I leave town again, I don't tell anyone about it. It's a complex and volatile situation, so I have to keep my family relationships as simple as I can. My parents have been separated for 20 years, so I try to keep them separated in my personal life. It's just easier that way.

But the simplicity of keeping the two apart and adapting to being around either one or the other broke down on Friday night. I still feel guilty that I bought a drink for my mom (even if it was a guilt drink for not telling her I was in town) and not for my dad, and I still don't know how I managed to keep myself together as I went between their tables to talk to my parents and hopefully retain their individual approval, but when they did leave after my set, I kept my glass full. I went slow and didn't go too far, because I wasn't really wanting to spend money on a cab, but I definitely wasn't going to let this fluke (and strangely emotionally taxing) incident plague my mind and lock me inside myself for the rest of the night.

Of course, there's one thing I find myself oddly grateful for: Jenn wasn't there. This isn't to be angsty and say I'm not over her, or that it would have been particularly emotionally difficult to see her. To be frank, there's not a chance in the world that I'd go back to be with her. But, having expected her to be there (her name was on the guest list), it was a pleasant relief that I didn't have to add one more thing to my plate which was already full with my parents being there. Had she been there, would she have talked to me? I certainly wasn't in a state to deal with that. Not to mention, two of the songs in my set were related to her, and I wouldn't want that to be stuck in her head. As much as she hurt me, I still respect her as a human being.

Anyway, coming back to the show itself, I had taken my cameras to the Plus and set them up (one above and behind the stage, and one down and in front of the stage) to record my set for some people who couldn't make it. The show itself was pretty great, and my set went without setbacks. There were a couple points where I had to back away from the microphone because of reverb feedback, but Sean (the guy who was running all of the tech) fixed it pretty quickly. The rest of the acts were solid, with F.M. Down and Andy Elwell being my favorites. Pets With People Names were fun to watch, and I give them creative points for using two acoustics and a cajon. Heat of the Heart was interesting to behold, and they were so talented and meshed so well as a group. I feel bad that they were the last group of the night, because by the time they took the stage, most of the crowd had left and only a handful of people were still around.

Eventually I made my way back home and the night was over. It was a long drive back to Missouri on Sunday, but it was worth it for the chance to go up and play the show. In fact, I have a couple videos from that night for you to see. Here they are:

And I can't forget F.M. Down!




Anyway, enough of my ranting about the show and family and such. I made it home safely, the show went well (despite some social-familial hiccups), and I made it back to Missouri safely. That's enough to get me by.


Stay tuned this semester; I hope to continue writing. 

Time For A Break

My last final of the semester was last week Thursday, but the end of the semester as a whole was more stressful than most others. I've been looking forward to moving off campus all semester, and the friend I was looking to get an apartment with seemed pretty serious this time around (we had had a backing-out incident in August). Like before, he decided to back out at the last minute. I was left with several people expecting me to move off campus and no roommate to go with. So when the RD called me to confirm whether I was moving off campus or not, I had to say, "I honestly can't confirm at this point." Since the RD still had a job to do, he said that I had to confirm one way or the other; if I was moving off, all of my stuff needed to be off campus. If I was staying, he wanted me to move across campus to the other dorm. Either way, I had to be out of my current dorm by noon Saturday. 

The problem? It was Wednesday, I had one more final the next day, had to be moved and checked out of my current room by noon Saturday, and had nowhere off campus to move my things to. So, I told him that I would tentatively confirm on-campus, but that it would be subject to change if an opportunity arose to move off campus. He said he felt I was trying to play the system, and so we cut a deal in which I would move my things across campus to the other dorm and if I did decide to move off, I'd have to do so before new students arrive January 10th. Still, I had to wait for a room assignment before I could do anything. Of course, this room assignment didn't come until Thursday night. Finals were over, but my semester certainly wasn't.

My dorm room setup was fairly extensive and detailed; taking it all down was going to take quite a bit of time, and getting it all packed away for moving would take even longer. Even worse, pieces of the original room furniture were scattered throughout the building, with a couple pieces being up on the women's floor from when I came back ultra-early in August. I had to figure out how to get them back down to my room without the RD knowing. Still, it was the fastest teardown I've done yet. Perhaps I just have some experience at this sort of thing after doing so for the past few years. However, I was pretty scatterbrained and pressed for time (the checkout deadline was noon Saturday and I barely made it at 11:57) and ended up leaving some important things on campus instead of putting them into my car for break and had to sneak back into the dorm on Monday to get them. I don't think the RD was too happy about that bit, but I'm sure he's already over it.

Anyway, I'd rather just put the whole semester behind me.

After scrambling for a couple days to catch up on life, I finally had a weekend to relax and be away from campus. I'm staying with a couple pretty cool people for break, and one of them is really into music and has some recording equipment. So, as part of my "rent" for the month, he asked that we do some collab work on a song. Of course I agreed, in exchange for being able to use his equipment to record my own work as well. So last night I changed my strings and started messing around with his guitar mic. Just to get an idea of how it sounded, we took a couple tries and recorded a full rhythm take. My impression of this older mic? Hands down, night-and-day difference, better than the Sampson Go Mic. Of course, that's to be expected; the Go Mic is a cheap USB condenser which is really only designed for podcasting, whereas a proper dynamic microphone that has to run through an interface is going to sound far better.

Of course, this is just in terms of recording an intrument. I'm entirely uncertain as to how it'll sound for recording vocals, but I'm suddenly reminded that I have a Seismic Audio SA-M20 in my guitar case that I've used for doing live work. I don't know if it'll do what I need for recording, since it's not the same as the SM57, but perhaps if I blend two mics I can get a decent sound. In fact, I think I'll try it out tonight.

Before We Walk...

Hold on, let me take a selfie

Today I went to Como with a friend, and it was quite refreshing. Hot topic for their t-shirt sale (and pins, and a laptop sticker), Coldstone ice cream and a walk around MU's campus made for a relaxing evening before returning to continue working on academic papers.

Just look at that sky... so beautiful.

I missed Columbia. Walking around campus, I was flooded with memories of hanging out with a group of dudes and doing parkour-type-things. Of course, I found myself walking on a few handrails just for memory's sake. These high-tops don't handle balance as well as my Feiyues, but it brought me a little joy.

I do miss parkour. Even if I had to quit because I kept getting hurt and increased my risk of serious (or possibly permanent) injury each time I did it, I still miss it. Maybe some of the less-intensive portions of it are something I can get back into.

There isn't much point to this entry. Just an update, I suppose.

Well Now...

So I'm staying on campus through Thanksgiving break. To be honest, I'm looking forward to having plenty of alone time, completely uninterrupted by other people, where I can just be by myself. Even having my own dorm room, it's been difficult to really find time to myself, and it's been wearing down on me. But, now that Thanksgiving Break is here, I have a whole week. I cannot express how grateful I am for this.  I can take care of some things that need to be done without being bothered.

Something happened a couple nights ago that startled me a little. I was driving to the theater with a couple friends to see Mockingjay (which was pretty rad, by the way), and my car was having troubles on the way there.  I was kind of worried at first it was thinking that it might have been my transmission, but today I've done some reading and discovered it could be a fuel system problem, either a pump or filter, or it could be the spark plugs.  seeing as how I've owned the car for 2 years and haven't even looked at the spark plugs once, I'm definitely leaving that within the realm of possible causes. Hopefully it'll be something simple and relatively cheap, because there's no way I can possibly afford a new car. I guess I probably just shouldn't worry anyway, because of that whole bit about God taking care of his kids. It's just the timing of the whole situation and that has me a little bit stirred.

But there's something else that has me a little bit stirred.

A Little Loopy

Being an INFJ has its perks, but it also has its downsides.

While being Ni-dominant (introverted iNtuition) with an auxiliary Fe (extroverted Feeling) allows the INFJ a unique insight into people and situations, if we don't keep that Fe strong, it can give way to a tertiary Ti (introverted Thinking) and, in some cases, our inferior and seemingly uncontrollable Se (extroverted Sensing), which can display itself when we find ourselves driven by conflict into a state of charged anger. But the worst danger for the INFJ, in my opinion, has to be the Ni-Ti loop.

Have you ever obsessed over something? How about becoming so obsessed over something that you seem to forget about reality and can't seem to find your way back? That's what the Ni-Ti loop looks like. 

On a functional level, before the Ni-Ti loop can be analyzed and understood, one must understand the INFJ. The INFJ's dominant function is Ni (introverted iNtuition). It's auxiliary, or secondary, function is Fe (extroverted feeling). Its tertiary (or third) function is Ti (introverted thinking), and its inferior (way in the background yet seemingly uncontrollable) function is Se (extroverted sensing).

Fe and Se can be thought of as our "reality functions", which focus on the outside world, while iNtuition and thinking are our introverted functions. On the surface, this should work well, where the INFJ will analyze an experience from every conceivable angle, compare our findings to our set of values (which we primarily gain from others, enter Fe), and from there derive some sort of meaning. If we still can't settle on a meaning, then Ti enters in and assigns a value to it that simply becomes "our own take" on it that doesn't matter as much to us as those we care about (because Fe would keep it in check).

However, if the auxiliary Fe is not developed well enough, or is not strong enough, it can become overrun and replaced by the tertiary Ti, which can be largely problematic. Ni has largely to do with foreseeing outcomes, and can feed false (sometimes radical) information to Ti, which will take these ideas and make them even more radical after being analyzed from every conceivable angle. It is highly unlikely that any thing true or practical will come out of this loop, because it continues to function purely within a person, while Fe becomes repressed. What effect does this have on the INFJ? It causes them to only theorize; they can never settle on a meaning.

In other words: in a Ni-Ti loop, I can get stuck inside my head, thinking about something so deeply that I end up obsessing over it and ignoring my "reality" functions (Fe and Se) that are just trying to get me to act on something instead of simply thinking about it. I'll procrastinate immediate things while contemplating and planning future events (which may consequently never come to pass if I don't focus on taking care of the immediate present). 

Some simply call this "daydreaming."I can only describe this loop as a deep abyss that is very easy to get lost in and very difficult to find my way out of. Sometimes it manifests itself in ways that are not particularly socially acceptable: I may find myself interested in someone of the opposite gender and, instead of simply expressing this interest to them when I notice a reciprocal interest, I'll find myself stuck in the Ni-Ti loop of analyzing every angle of everything that could possibly happen if I did tell them, which can give way to anxiety that can prevent me from ever telling them. By the time I finally convince myself to simply tell them, they've already lost interest.

Most times, however it just manifests itself in the mid-class daydream that causes me to miss 10 minutes' worth of notes that I'll need to go back and find later. It also manifests itself at night, when I'll lie down to sleep... if my Se doesn't quickly convince my mind to sleep, I'll get sucked into the abyss, the ocean of "what if," the vacuum that is the Ni-Ti loop. Some nights I can lie awake from 11pm to 2am or later just thinking about things, without realizing how much time has elapsed. Then I'm just grouchy the next day because I'm tired and I know it was my own fault.

I wonder if what was so quickly diagnosed as ADHD when I was a child was really just Ni-Ti loops that sent me into wild and crazy daydreams. If that's the case, and it wasn't really ADHD, then the medication could have been more harmful than helpful. Oh well, the past is in the past. I could sum up my current everyday Ni-Ti experience by quoting another INFJ I encountered online: "Sometimes I don't know what I do all day. I think about things and then suddenly the day is over."

That Monday Struggle

The Monday struggle is hitting me hard today. It's so hard to find any motivation to do anything today. After a couple rough nights, I think I need to do this...

Today I'm grateful for:

1. Breathing. So simple, yet so true. God can take this breath from me whenever He chooses.
2. A very dear friend who hasn't left my side.
3. Cheesy eggs, hash browns, biscuits, and gravy. 
4. Coffee. Sweet, glorious coffee.
5. Self-expression. For some reason I've just.. craved it.
6. A job. And income.
7. Music... and the ability to write and record it. Sort of goes along with the whole self-expression thing.
8. A car (that runs).
9. A phone (that works).
10. Shoes (that aren't falling apart).

Ready for (a) Break

Today I find myself tired.

I know that part of it is because I failed to achieve an adequate amount of sleep last night. Another part is the fact that I'm still sick and my body's not wanting to get better yet. That would explain why I fell asleep in my chair at 8:30. But the other part is emotional. I'm sure this has been fed in part by sickness and sleep deprivation, but the mood swings came back with a vengeance today. The first was this morning when I went from feeling like crud to feeling rather stellar. The second was around 1, when I went from stellar to crud. The third was gradual, where I transitioned from crud to decent between 1 and 7. The fourth was sudden and violent, where I went from good to extra cruddy in the time it took me to walk 100 yards from the student center back to my dorm.

I wonder if it was just an "endorphin crash" from laughing at AFV videos.

Fortunately we don't have classes tomorrow. Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) this means I need to spend the day working to catch up on hours from missing work all last week due to sickness. Fortunately, the security camera project was put on hiatus for now, so I have more time to focus on other projects that need to be done. I also picked up an extra shift in the Cafeteria on Saturday. More boring stuff that nobody cares about, blah blah blah. I'm just looking forward to getting out of town Saturday night to see a friend that I haven't seen since September.

Speaking of stuff that nobody cares about, somebody (either my RA or the RD) came up with the bright idea last week to "spread encouragement" across the dorm floor. How was this idea implemented, you ask? Why, only the best way possible: putting envelopes with people's names on them on a table in the middle of the hall, and asking us to write "encouraging notes" to people and then put those notes in the envelopes. Nothing shows how closed off social groups can become quite like walking past the table to see certain envelopes being stuffed full of notes while others remain seemingly empty. Tonight we were told to take our envelopes and read the notes people had written us. Maybe it's just the cruddy mood talking, but I took mine outside and burned it after taking only a quick glance inside.

I don't care what someone else wants me to think they think about me.

I'm exhausted tonight and all I want to do is sleep. I wish I could sleep all weekend, but I know that's just not in my current realm of probabilities. I have four papers, an exposition over Romans 12,  a few tests, and another presentation coming up, and I have to get going on them. I just got done writing an essay for the RD in which I was supposed to talk about why it's important for me to not skip floor devos, but rather discussed why the institution of mandatory attendance of floor devotions is fundamentally flawed and why I chose instead to be absent. I'm not going to waste my time writing some fluffy essay to please someone in a position of authority at this college. Maybe I've become too bold, or maybe I've stopped caring. Whichever it is, it rears its ugly head on nights like this.

Yet God loved a sinner like me so much that He sent Christ to cover my sins anyway. Tonight, that is the only thing getting me by.

Merch

I love going to concerts, but I enjoy working them even more. If I can plug in and help, I will. Usually this happens in the form of manning a merch table. Tonight is no exception. There's a  concert happing right now at my college. Seventh Day Slumber, Nine Lashes, and Ilia. I'm especially excited to see Ilia again, since it's been since 2010 and they survived a temporary hiatus and oh man, does their comeback sound good! Though I feel pretty bad about the turnout for the show being pitifully small compared to the size of this gym.

Also cool about tonight is the fact that I got to hear a little bit of a freshman's story. The girl manning the table with me is new to the college this year and though I've seen her around campus, I didn't really know anything about her until now. A guy came up to the table earlier and I swear he was sent by God. He volunteers his time and heart to a youth group at a local church and came to the show looking for music that these teens he works with might be able to get into. His story struck me close, because not only do I love people and music, but so does this guy. I asked him for his email and I hope to help him by sending his way a little of what he's looking for: music and musicians.

I have so much to be grateful for today, including a lesson learned in humility and silence, even if it hurt. This mood tracking app is giving me a lot of incentive toward consistency, even if right now that just means tracking my mood at consistent intervals throughout the day. Sitting here soaking in the sound of the music, with the bass pounding in my chest, calms me down and helps ease some of my anxiety. It's weird to say that music is an antianxiety med for me, but it is. Whenever I need it most, God connects me to music and people.

Tonight, that's enough to get me by.

Under the Weather

Pinnacles Youth Park, February 2013; I'm really hoping to see this happen again.

The weather today has been incredible. It's finally, finally starting to cool off. It was inexplicably refreshing to walk outside this morning and see ice covering vehicles in the parking lot, and I smiled when I saw my breath on the air. Mornings like what I walked outside to today give me hope that we might get a decent snowfall this year (that is, one which will actually stay.) Ultimately it makes me miss home and causes me to reconsider my plans to stay in Moberly and work over winter break. At least I'll get to go home for the week of Christmas and see some snow then.

I love this weather. It brings me a great deal of joy.

What I'm not liking so much as being under the weather. Today was day 11 of being sick and it doesn't look like it's getting any better. This weekend got my hopes up that I might actually be getting over this,  but this morning brought that crashing down.  I could barely eat today without feeling like I was going to vomit, and here I am laying in bed at 9:30pm, stomach churning and wishing it would just go away.

But I have a lot to be joyful for.  I have a couple friends who I don't know what I would do without; I owe a lot to their continued encouragement. The cloud of anger that blocked my vision from seeing God is gone, and I'm thinking more clearly. I have been forgiven and I have been given the gift of reconciliation. I have the ability to go and be reconciled with those I've sinned against. I've tasted of this heavenly gift in ways I can't even comprehend, let alone explain.

I have hope that shines beyond tomorrow, and tonight, that's enough to get me by.

Meetings, And More Meetings

Sitting here in this Student Council meeting, all I can think about is how long it's been since I last attended one of these. It's not that I don't like Student Council; on the contrary, I really enjoy being involved in planning events. It's incredible to work behind the scenes in making something happen that brings the whole campus together as a community. StuCo has really been positive thing in my life this semester. 

But it's been weeks. Three? Four? I can't remember, and that concerns me more than the fact that I've missed meetings because it means I haven't been functioning (mentally and emotionally)  There is less than a month remaining of this semester, and we're already planning events for next semester. Freshman year feels like it was a lifetime ago, yet it feels like it could have been just last month. "Time flies at a snail's pace" could well be a thematic statement of my time here. 

In some areas of life I've grown immensely and changed dramatically, while in others it feels like I haven't changed at all. Being a "big picture" person who looks at life holistically, I find myself frustrated that I've vacillated back and forth between depression and normalcy without finding some sort of stability. But it's improving at least. Well, it feels like it's improving. Maybe a more accurate assumption would be that I'm just starting to handle it more productively. 

I've started tracking my mood with the T2 Mood Tracker app (just started today, actually), which I'm hoping will allow me to detect patterns over time that, when analyzed, will help me to better identify, assess, and overcome whatever is contributing to my depression. I've recently resumed my rooftop retreats, where I'll get off campus and disappear to a random rooftop for a few hours where I'll sit and journal. It's helped, but once it starts snowing I won't be able to do that anymore. 

I'm thinking it's time I get to the root of this depression and deal with it.