Being Known

“Shame caused me to hide…the more we hide, the harder it is to be known. And we have to be known to connect” -Donald Miller, Scary Close

I wanted to expand upon my last post. Not the relationship part…that will come soon enough in a more lighthearted manner. No, I wanted to expand upon feeling fully understood. Feeling known.

I’ve been a huge fan of Donald Miller for almost ten years. I first fell in love with his writing voice during my freshman year of college. Some of my fondest memories that first semester are of sitting in the laundry room of my dorm, reading Blue Like Jazz and listening to Iron & Wine’s “The Shepherd’s Dog”. I realize that doesn’t sound like a particularly thrilling time, especially for an eighteen-year-old who was experiencing freedom for the first time, but I credit those moments as the ones when I started to fully think for myself.

I’m not a fan of most “religious” writers. I don’t like the voice of someone who is obviously trying to convert their readers to their worldview. It’s pushy and desperate and doesn’t feel genuine. If I’m going to be approached with an entire worldview, I want it to come from someone who fully accepts their faults, acknowledges that they don’t have all the answers, but are trying to be their best. I like being able to read words by someone who lives through their flaws.

Scary Close came out in early 2015. I had been struggling with finding my voice and felt like I had lost the ability to connect with anyone on any kind of level. I was feeling lost and unable to trust. Miller’s book was all about relationships and feeling intimacy. This didn’t always necessarily mean romantic intimacy, but just connecting and being known by others.

Through a series of events, I had lost that. In my writing project, I had written myself into a character that “left destruction in her wake and in a way was proud of herself for being able to attract people enough to destroy their idea of love” because I saw myself in that life. I saw myself unable to be known by people because I had lost my ability to trust. I know that some of that mistrust should have been consciously aimed at myself instead of others, but that year was a mess of epic proportions, and I avoided self-blame at all costs.

Somewhere along the way last year, I hit the wall. I learned that I had been avoiding any of the blame for my actions. Perhaps blame isn’t the correct word, but I was tying all of my mistakes and faults to the people who had hurt me. I wasn’t willing to accept that the bad experiences had actually shaped anything about me. There was a moment close to the middle of last year that I had a breakdown in front of others. I was being pummeled with questions about my divorce from a guy I barely knew, and by the end of the night, I was in the passenger seat of a friend’s car unable to breathe or speak. I texted that friend the next morning, apologizing for the inconvenience my panic attack had caused, and his response was so simple and so true: “There’s no need to apologize. It was a true human experience”

That was the first time in a very long time I realized that I shouldn’t be apologizing for the permanent marks my experiences had left on me. Being in the midst of painful moments is as much a part of being human as any joyful moments are, perhaps even more so. All of us experience hardships, and acting like those things don’t exist chips away at our humanity. In my quest to become fully exposed and at peace with every piece of me, I’ve made it a point to not hide my experiences. If the people around me know what I’ve been through, what both pains and soothes me, they are shown my true self. If they choose to spend time with that true self after being made aware of all my flaws, my ability to trust in them grows. This is the way a healthy relationship develops.

Black Rock Lake Park, Texas - April 2015
Bluebonnets at Black Rock Lake Park, Texas – April 2015
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The Beginnings

December 12, 2015

I found myself sitting on my front porch with a coworker who had slightly intimidated me at first. The night had started as a small group of friends playing video games and singing along to Across the Universe. He was the last person to get there, and when he stepped outside for a quick smoke break, I joined him.

We sat down, and I’m not sure how the conversation started, but it turned into me telling him stories about my mental health, my heartbreaks, and my fears. How he continued to sit there while actually caring, I wouldn’t understand for some time, but in that moment, we were the cliche only people in the world. I was bold that night. So bold, in fact, that when I told him of my dreams to become a writer, I followed it up with a project I had recently started. “The most recent time that I felt like not existing anymore was December 8, 2015…” When reading those first pages, he learned more of my darkness than most of the people I’ve known for years.

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than a friendship. I wasn’t interested in a relationship, especially with someone who was leaving for the military a little over four months later. He didn’t want any sort of romantic ties back home when he left.

We spent weeks watching movies he hadn’t seen. We spent weeks talking about hopes, dreams, our own faults, and what we wish we could change about the world. We shared our past with each other, and somewhere in all of that, we started to realize that we could have an incredible future if we were willing to work through distance and time.

I’ve felt special connections with other people before. I’ve been married, I’ve been in love…I thought I was through that. I was convinced that I was far too used up to be loved again. While I’ve felt those connections with others, I didn’t ever think that the other person truly understood every part of me. I’d let certain parts of my personality and character show, but my truth told me that if I let anyone see some of the other parts, I’d be unlovable. This man saw the unlovable parts first. He knew them before he knew some of my good parts, and he’s chosen to spend a lifetime loving all of me.

I realize this is a rather sentimental post. This website has been all about depression and controversy recently. I’ve been fighting some incredible demons in my own life, and I’m not sure how well I’d be getting through it all if it wasn’t for Josiah’s constant love and support. He loves all of me, and while I don’t often feel like I deserve that level of care, I’ll be forever grateful for it.

Josiah
Crystal Bridges, Bentonville, AR – January 2016

The Good is Better Because of the Bad

I’ve been rewatching Skins. There’s a scene in the fourth season between Effy and Freddie where she looks at him and tells him that all of her bad memories are gone, and she only has love left. She had been dealing with manic episodes and psychosis, subsequently getting sent to a hospital and having constant care from a psychiatrist. This psychiatrist helps her to “delete” all these bad memories, but it eventually is shown that this is even worse for her mental health. She loses so much of who she has become because she no longer has bad memories to remind her of her growth and change.

There have been several times in the last few years where I’ve wished to just delete moments in my life, especially regarding past relationships. I would love to be able to remove moments like my marriage and really even just meeting my ex. I convince myself that being able to delete the hurt and pain, the insecurities and fears that I developed would make me a happier person. I go back and forth between this desire and trying to embrace the failed relationships because they’ve taught me how to be stronger, to stand up for myself, and to leave when it turns toxic. I know that facing these issues is the healthy choice. I just don’t want any of that to tarnish what I have now and who I am now. I’m struggling with balancing my past and my future, and I’m not quite sure how to merge the two.

I had never intended to get married again. I allowed myself to become completely absorbed in that relationship that I lost who I was. I’ve labeled myself as damaged, unlovable, undesirable. I had a couple people come through my life after my divorce that I thought would maybe be a long-term part of my life, but I was unaware of my self-sabotaging these connections for quite some time. When I finally noticed my pattern and the unhealthy consequences, I made a conscious effort to change. When I met Josiah (which is probably a story for another time) and as we grew in our relationship and made the decision to get married, I tried to stay aware of my sabotaging tendencies.

I still feel unworthy. I still feel like my ex and my past haunt me. I still have family and friends who ask me about him and if I’ve heard from him. I suppose the biggest reason I wish I could delete all of the bad memories is because I’m tired of my past demanding to be my present. I’m so excited for what my future is going to hold, and I’m thrilled that I have someone who makes a consistent effort to understand. I know those bad moments will eventually fade until they’re tiny specks in a very distant memory, but I’m trying to accept them as ways to fully appreciate what and who I have in my life now. I think that’s the key in all of this: trying to appreciate the lessons learned from all of the hurtful moments. It’s just a very difficult thing to remind myself day in and day out- the bad is worth remembering because it makes the good so much better.

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Navy Pier, Chicago – June 2016

#blacklivesmatter

The past week has had me completely torn up inside. My heart feels broken, defeated, shocked…  I’ve been seeing two sides of an argument throughout social media: #blacklivesmatter and #alllivesmatter. I believe all lives matter, I really do. I believe in loving everyone. I believe in giving everyone a chance. I believe in supporting your fellow man, no matter his race, background, religion, or political views. I believe in loving people. But the black lives in our country are being attacked, and it breaks my heart.

I have been reading a lot of articles and watching several videos this week. A lot of angry, inflammatory articles and video clips by people who are so quick to judge, so quick to bring up criminal backgrounds. These guys were shot before they were id’d. These men were shot before anything from their history was known. These men were shot because of their color. There’s a prejudice that I think has been so deeply ingrained in our country, and it’s not going to change overnight. I know it’s not going to change overnight, but something needs to change. Our country needs to transform. There needs to be some sort of effort to say that this is not okay. Senseless killings are not okay. It hurts me so much, and I don’t know what all I can do except for erase the stereotypes in my own life

Change always comes from singular people. It always comes from people being brave enough and disgusted enough by their surrounds to do something about it, to stand up and say what is going on is not okay and that they need to change what they are doing. That change starts a movement, and that movement needs to happen. But it has to start with singular people.

I read a comment on one of the articles. I try not to read comments because they just make my blood boil with the ignorance, but I read one comment in response to one person being so upset that the article said #blacklivesmatter instead of #alllivesmatter, and this person pointed out that the two are not exclusive. What if a person was at a cancer rally wanting to fight to end cancer, and a group showed up and shouted that all diseases matter. Yes, all diseases matter. Healing people matter. But in that scenario, people are there to want to change cancer. The #blacklivesmatter movement is to say that the black citizens of our country are being attacked. There is so much racism that is so prevalent, and we need to point that out. It’s not saying that every other life doesn’t matter, it’s saying that we realize there is an issue in the system, and that system needs to change.

In regards to the Dallas shooting (because my heart is aching for those police officers as well), I want to say again that the entire system needs to change. Our country needs to change their view of the police force because the majority of them are doing their job and doing it well. Jon Stewart said, “You can truly grieve for every officer who’s been lost in the line of duty in this country, and still be troubled by cases of police overreach. Those two ideas are not mutually exclusive. You can have great regard for law enforcement and still want them to be held to high standards.” This is what is so important to me. We need to stop answering to violence with more violence. We need to acknowledge that the actions of a few do not speak for the entire group. I hear one side saying “down with the police, they’re all corrupt” and I hear another side saying “the #blacklivesmatter movement is only inspiring violence”. I believe every single person who causes death and violence should be held at the same level of accountability. This should stop being a war between groups.

There was a video I was tagged in on Instagram that showed a woman speaking in a large college lecture hall. She asked the hundreds of students in the audience if they would be willing to change the color of their skin, if they would be willing to live in the world as a black man or woman. She asked for whoever would be willing to do that to stand up, yet nobody stood. My question to any readers who have made it this far: would you change the color of your skin? Would you be an African American citizen in our country right now? Do you think that your life would change?

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Reflections

“There’s a beautiful melancholy that settles over the river and village as the weather matures from summer. The air holds a bit of chill and even the birds’ singing is subdued.

This is my favorite time of year. I feel it perfectly captures the time in my life that I had the most struggle. I used to love autumn for the colors that blanket the trees everywhere, but now it’s that moment right before the change – the trees still as green as they can possibly be, telling the world that there may be a dead period approaching, but they are still full of life and will be back for another year of green beauty. In a way, the yellows, oranges, and reds are their final goodbye to us for the year. That last love letter that tells of beauty coming in the next year.

I am overwhelmed by places that get to experience all four seasons. The lucky spots on earth that have snow in winter, are covered in blooms in spring, have sunny weather in summer without too much heat, and have the fiery colors in fall to cover the earth. If I found a place like this, I don’t think I’d ever move away. Of course, every season has a time and place, and change is part of our natural process. Loving every season for what it brings to the world is necessary, but the beauty of fall is unattainable elsewhere.”                   -personal journal from September 4, 2014

I’m in the middle of a mental leave of health from work. Being in this period is part unfamiliarity and part undesirable old friend. When I first started truly struggling with depression a few years ago, I was unable to hold down a job. Every little thing overwhelmed me and I would go days without moving off of the couch. I’ve very lucky to have found a job that understands the importance of mental health, but the idea of returning to a place that I’ve been absent from is intimidating.

The good parts that come out of this are time, mentally regrouping, and most importantly, writing. Life had been keeping me so busy that I couldn’t balance work, a personal life, and my projects. It’s probably just a self-organization issue, to be honest, but part of my mental health recovery is learning coping mechanisms and how to better schedule my life. Perhaps this is just an opportunity for growth.

In the meantime, I’ve been trying to refocus my writing efforts. I started a project last year that I’ve shared a bit about on here, and making it ready to publish has moved high up on my priority list. So much of the writing comes from a personal place, and I’ve jotted down bits and pieces of this book scattered throughout various journals. I went back a bit too far in my journaling and discovered a few pieces of reflection written while I was still living in Germany (the italicized quote at the beginning being one of those reflections). I was struck by how the cycles in my mental health seem to repeat themselves, but at the same time evolve cycle to cycle. Each time, I learn a bit more about how my brain works and how to overcome the darker moments.

I’ve been repeating “every season has a time and place, and change is part of our natural process” over and over in my mind the past couple of hours. It’s so fitting that I’ve found that bit of writing in a time such as this. It’s a pleasant reminder that this is hard, even paralyzing at times, but a new season will be coming soon. A new season full of hope and growth, of maturation and clarity. This is a shadowy part of life, but it will soon give way to a new part, and I’ll soon be able to make sense of it all again.

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Potter’s Marsh, Anchorage, AK – August 2014