21st Century Family

Recently I've been struggling with some heavy depression. It's been lingering for several months now, but only recently it has gotten worse. The recent transition I've taken is towards apathy - I simply don't care anymore. Along with this transitioning of moods, I've consistently struggled with thoughts of suicide. It was recommended by my counselor that I begin taking an antidepressant, something I've opposed doing for myself for quite some time. I've been down the depression road before, but this time it's different. Since it's different this time, I'm trying to react differently. I'm trying to make sure I don't isolate myself; I keep reaching out to friends.

Saturday night after my counseling appointment, I was hanging out with some friends and talking to my friend Katie about everything that had been going on. My friend Jordan sat down and asked what we were talking about. He was a little on the inebriated side, but he was still coherent. I summed it up by saying I didn't care about anything anymore and I wanted to kill myself. He got this frustrated look on his face and asked why I wanted to kill myself. I told him one reason was because I haven't spoken to my family since Thanksgiving, so I feel isolated and alone. He sat there for a second and started tearing up. I've seen him get emotional before, but I've never seen a look of pain like that on his face. He looked up at me and said:

"Why do you need your family? Friends are the family of the 21st century."

He didn't say it, but he was telling me how much he and all of our other friends love me. He didn't want me to hurt myself. It hurt him to see me in so much pain.

His words could not be any truer for me. Throughout most of my life, I have never felt like I can reach out to my family. It's a complicated situation, but it's a reality. I've always turned to my friends when I've needed someone.

Last night was an all-time low. I was on the brink of hurting myself. I reached out because I knew people would be upset if I hadn't. My friend, Erika, told me to come to her house. I talked to Stacy after I was there, and told her what was happening. She was so scared, and I felt so bad for putting her through that. She asked to talk to Erika, and I guess asked Erika to not let me leave last night. She later texted me saying how much she cared about me and couldn't think about losing me. She told me I mean more to her than I know. I also talked to a girl from my church who's in a similar situation. She told me she thinks even if we were to kill ourselves, we'd still have to deal with our crap, just in a different way. She encouraged me to get help.

I decided last night that I'm going to see a psychiatrist and get on antidepressants. I'm doing this for Stacy, because I love her. I don't like worrying her this much, and I know she wants me to get better. I would rather be making this decision for myself, but I unfortunately don't care enough. So I'm holding on to the only motivation I can find at this point. I'm holding on as tight as I can.

The amount of love I have felt in the past 24 hours is overwhelming. I've reached out to the people I went on Kairos with, and they are showering me with love. Two years later, and that family still has my back. Erika has opened her home to me as a place for me to feel safe. My friends from church are always willing to listen and offer to spend time with me if I need a friend. My friends outside of school are also ready to help me have fun for a bit and forget about my problems for even a small moment.

Even if I feel like I don't have my immediate family backing me up, I have many more friends from all areas of my life who are ready to help if I call on them. Even though I've lost hope in myself, no one else has. Even though my life gets dark sometimes, they bring light into it.

I am thankful for my family.

Beauty

I've written about two things in this blog before: my friend, Stacy, and experiencing moments of bliss.

Tonight, both of those things were multiplied by at least ten in how great they are.

It began with my nails. Stacy has always admired my nail-painting abilities, so I always love to share my newest creations with her. Our conversation transitioned through boys, to friendships, to the most epic metaphor about bread that I have ever spit out, to sharing our lives with others, and a multitude of other things before culminating in this comment about a song she found while at a short film festival:

"well, i have to start by saying that it's so frustrating
to try and put into words
how strongly and intensely you can feel something
like, it was just beauty
the film coupled with this song
i just remember sitting there, feeling totally immersed in something
and i was so at peace
and thinking 'this is perfect'" 

This is the song she was talking about:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjjc59FgUpg

I knew exactly what kind of moment she was talking about. That moment where you are experiencing so much beauty all at once that you aren't sure how you're going to react. The kind of beauty that fills your heart with every emotion imaginable. The kind of beauty that exists completely outside of yourself. The kind of beauty that you can't put into words or capture in a picture. It's a beauty that you experience in a moment. It's a personal beauty.

The last time I had felt this was when I went to see Robert Bly at a poetry reading on campus. He was accompanied by a sitarist. I had never heard a sitar in person before, but I was always intrigued by it. That poetry reading struck me so much more than I could have ever anticipated. Here was this old, frail poet reading parts of himself that he has allowed to be shared with complete strangers, most of whom he'll never meet, all while he was breathing in the steady notes of the sitar. He would even wait a moment before reading one of his poems, close his eyes, and tap his hand and foot to the music. He was so immersed in that moment. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever witnessed - it almost brought me to tears myself. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty I saw in that moment.

I was overwhelmed again tonight. By the end of my conversation with Stacy, I found myself experiencing a personal beauty. As I listened to the link she had sent me, I suddenly realized how lucky I am to have her as my friend. It was as though all the worries I've been carrying this past week didn't seem so heavy anymore. Even though we now live 1,543 miles apart from each other, she still has my back. She still walks with me through the good and bad I experience. I couldn't ask for a better friend in my life. I was flooded with the gorgeous melody from the song and the contentment I felt knowing I'm not alone in this world.

As I sit here now, I'm blown away by how much a YouTube video and a Facebook chat can affect me. I don't think everything previously written in the post fully describes what I mean. It's a powerful force. I've felt it before watching movies, such as The Grey, or, as silly as it sounds, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

In these moments, there is usually something that gets left behind, typically words that stick with me. This summer while I was volunteering with the youth ministry at my church, we began sharing artifacts - things from our lives that prove something happened. I like to think of those things sticking with me as artifacts. My artifact from tonight is the song I posted above. Here are the others:

That morning I heard water being poured into a teapot.
The sound was an ordinary, daily, cluffy sound.
But all at once, I knew you loved me.
An unheard-of thing, love audible in water falling.

These moments are real. I hope people don't deny them.

Childish Happiness

Something I've noticed recently about my roommates is how much they criticize me in the moments I'm excited about something. Recently I've been in high anticipation for new music, specifically Green Day and Mumford & Sons. Green Day is my favorite band of all time, and Mumford & Sons hasn't released anything new in several years. Naturally I'm going to be happy about their new albums. I thoroughly enjoy listening to music anyway. My roommates and friends, however, don't seem to understand this. My smiles or excited squeals are met with "You're weird," or "You have problems," or some variation of the two.

Since when is it weird or a problem to be happy?

Are we supposed to just be numb robots that don't enjoy any pleasure in life?

It feels almost as if they can't empathize with my happiness. I don't know what it is or why they do it, but I've made this decision as a result:

I'm going to be childishly happy about things I genuinely enjoy. I'm also going to childishly enjoy things that can be enjoyable.

Why should I put a stop to my own happiness just because someone else doesn't enjoy the same things I do? I always hear people complain about being bored or thinking something was stupid and a waste of their time. That could easily be fixed. My sophomore theology teacher always told me "You'll get out of something whatever you put into it." If you allow yourself to enjoy something, even if it is stupid, it won't be a waste of your time. I think if we laughed at more stupid jokes and stopped to watch the guy dancing maniacally in the street, we could start to enjoy life much more. If you approach life with an optimistic, positive attitude, the bad moments won't be as burdensome. If anything, you can laugh at them and move on.

When I started thinking that way, my life changed dramatically. Instead of wallowing in my own self-pity and personal problems, I started allowing myself to enjoy life.

It's not easy to do, though. It takes a lot of courage and constant kicks in the butt. I have to put aside my concern with what others think of me, especially since I know I can't control that to begin with. When I finally do that and step up to the plate, I enjoy life much more.

For example, I helped out at my friend's godmother's wedding this weekend. While I was there to help serve the guests drinks and food, I felt like it was unnecessary to maintain this stiff, ultra-professional demeanor throughout the entire night, especially since the bride herself was encouraging me and my friend to make sure we eat and enjoy ourselves. It was a laid back ceremony, so why would I interrupt that with apprehension about being myself around these people? I probably wouldn't see any of them again in my life anyway. So I did what I do best - enjoy what I have to work with. As with any wedding, there was music and dancing. I thoroughly enjoy dancing, so I decided to start dancing while I was working. The guests seemed entertained, and I was still doing my job. I even managed to make my way out to the dance floor for Kevin Rudolf's "Let It Rock" and danced my heart out. I believe my epic moves captivated the entire party for a few moments.

Of course I understand that there are moments where professionalism is required. I don't go dancing around the office when I'm working, and I'm not going to do cartwheels during a tour for a prospective student at school (mainly because I can't do a cartwheel to begin with). But there is always some way to slip a little bit of fun into any situation to make the most of it, whether it's striking up a conversation with the stranger behind you in line or busting out the worst dance moves in the world. I enjoy having fun. I'm a goofy person, and I value that quality in myself, so I want to share that with others.

It goes back to my personal motto: I just do what I do, and whatever that does...well then it's done.

Myself

I need to listen to my own advice. I give good advice, and 99% of the time, it applies to me too.

Maybe I should record myself and listen to the tape at the end of the day.

Dear Jake,

I don't know why I'm writing this. I don't know why I feel this way about you. But the truth of the situation is that I'm in love with you. When we were in D.C., I promised myself I wouldn't get any silly crush on any of the guys from your team. Well, I kept that promise to myself - it just didn't hold true for after the trip. I wish I would have talked to you so much more during that trip, but I'm so thankful that we started texting each other the last day we were both in D.C.

You're the kind of guy I hoped to meet, but never expected to.

You helped me realize what I'm looking for in a guy. You set the bar for all guys I meet (and it's a very high bar).

You're willing to go to the ends of the earth for your friends.

You are confident in who you are and that rubs off on me, especially since you never fail to encourage me to stick to what I believe.

I've never heard you criticize anything about myself (of course, excluding the number of movies I haven't seen).

You always respect girls and never objectify them, and you make me feel like I am more than what my body looks like.

You're a constant reminder of why I love being myself, and not many other people give me that reminder.

I can talk to you any time about anything. Even when I call you late at night to vent to you about my intolerance of some people, you patiently listen and always reassure me that everything's okay.

You always remember to enjoy the small things in life, and you never forget to laugh, even if it's at yourself.

You have big dreams for yourself, and you aren't afraid to chase them - in fact, you're going after them each day.

You always at least text me on a holiday just to say "hi."

You push me to try new things, whether it's a new movie or new music.

You always encourage me to go for what I want.

I don't think it's normal for me to meet someone on a trip and continually talk to them - usually we only keep in touch for a couple of weeks, and then we never talk again. But even though we live in completely separate parts of the country, you're still an active part of my life. When I look at our Facebook chat, it has over 3000 previous messages to load. Who knows how much we've texted, Skyped, or talked to each other on the phone, either. But out of all of the things that I've told you or talked to you about, this is the one thing that I'm afraid to tell you.

Everyone I've talked to has told me to tell you how I feel, but I don't think the time is right. You're getting ready for college; I know how stressful that is. I don't want to distract you from all of that - it's a big decision to make, and I want you to enjoy your senior year as much as you can anyway. It's not that I'd think it would be a burden to tell you, but there's nothing either of us can do about it at this point. It would be like putting a blank canvas in front of an artist, but not giving them any paint to put on it. Aside from all of that, though, I'm afraid you won't feel the same way. I thought you did in D.C. at one point. Whether or not I was right about that, I have no idea. At this point, all I can do is hope that you feel the same way. I know the only way I can find out is if I tell you. But what will we do if we both feel the same way?

I've heard numerous times that people can make long distance relationships work, and if it's meant to be, then the people will find a way to make it work out. I feel - or at least hope - that that could be us. We could beat the odds set against us. Despite the distance and the different paths we're taking in our lives, I think we could make it. I'd be willing to wait for you. There are so many other guys that I'd like to wait for, but I know it'd be fruitless in the end. You, however, are different. You're one of the best guys I have met, and one of the dearest friends I've ever had. You are also one of the few people who have ever told me they care about my happiness. The moment I received that text from you with those words was when I knew I was sold on you.

The bottom line, though, is that even if this doesn't work out, I know we'll be friends for a very long time. I know I can always count on you to have my back, and I pray that I have shown you the same loyalty that you've shown me. So even if you end up not being the "one" for me, I know that I'll be able to still call you my best friend. Thank you for loving me who I am, for being there for me when I've needed you, and trusting me enough to confide in me every once in a while. You're helping me become a better version of myself, and I don't think I'll ever be able to fully thank you for that.

For now, thank you.

Michelle

Manners

Sometimes, I think people forget how valuable manners can be. Even more often, I don't think people realize how much I value manners. Seriously. I think if someone asked me to punch someone in the face and said "please," I'd be much more inclined to do it.

Seriously, how much extra effort does it take to tack on a "thank you" or a "please" at the end of your sentences? It can even be mindless! It doesn't require sincerity (although that is a bonus). And it's just a nice thing to do for everyone. Using your manners makes the other person feel good and makes you not look like a huge, grouchy jerk.

I know we're used to getting what we want in this day and age, but that doesn't make it acceptable to be ungrateful or impolite. For example, I tend to be the one who drives myself and my friends around when we go shopping. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy driving and spending time with my friends. However, at the end of our shopping excursion when we had gotten back, they left my car, ran inside to get out of the cold weather, and didn't utter a single "thank you" my way. I had driven quite a bit, too, so I had spent half of the gas I had just bought. That wouldn't matter to me at all if they had just thanked me for driving.

I enjoy doing nice things for people - it's part of who I am. And as long as the people I'm helping say two simple words to me, I won't expect to be payed back or receive anything in return. I drove my friends thirty minutes to a record store that we spent maybe another thirty minutes in, before turning around and driving back home. That's a lot of gas for such a short trip, but they wanted to go, and I wanted to hang out with them. When we got in the car and began the thirty-minute drive back home, they thanked me for driving them out there. That was all I wanted from them. I wasn't even going to ask them for a couple dollars to cover the gas I had spent (even though my friend gave me some anyway).

Manners really make that much of a difference to me. Whatever insane guy dates me better be well-mannered, or I'm giving him a lesson or two on what words should be coming out of his mouth. He won't have to hold the door, get my coat, or even pay for dinner if I hear him saying "please" and "thank you." It's three syllables that you add to your daily vocabulary - it doesn't take much energy, you already know how to say the words, you already know what they mean, you already know how to use them. Just. Use. Them.

"Please" and "thank you" go a lot farther than you think.

Anxious and Impatient

I recently returned from a nine-day trip to Germany and Austria. It was one of the most amazing trips I have ever taken. The timing of the trip was perfect, too.

I previously mentioned how I had been itching to go somewhere - to explore. I just wanted to get away from Lenexa. Germany and Austria are definitely away. Now that I'm back, though, I'm even more unsatisfied with where I am. I got a taste of something different. I liked the taste, and now I want more.

First of all, Germany is gorgeous. The Alps provide a scenic background when the fog around them clears, and driving from city to city on the Autobahn isn't an eyesore. The cities themselves are even enjoyable to look at. The architecture of the buildings is very appealing to the eyes and doesn't have the stale, cookie-cutter look to it. Not to mention the breath-taking design of the cathedrals and churches: Baroque, Gothic, Romanesque, to name a few styles. Apart from the buildings, everything just feels cleaner in general. Munich is one of the cleanest cities I have seen. I never saw piles of litter, the air felt fresh, and it just seemed much more youthful and alive. Santa Monica used to be my favorite city, but Munich took it's place within a few hours of my arrival.

I think what's so enticing about Munich is how small it feels, despite it's population of over 1.3 million. We were able to walk everywhere that we needed to go, only taking the subway occasionally. I got to actually see and experience the city and be submerged into it rather than watching it all whiz by through a car window. My parents disliked the hotel room we had, but I loved it. the entire room was slightly bigger than my bedroom, but it was big enough for three people. How awesome is that? I think I'm someone who needs a smaller living space. I have too much room and no clue what to do with it. I'd say about 80 percent of the things in my room I touch, at most, once a year. I have this excess of possessions - this clutter.

I find it interesting that I'm drawn to a smaller personal living space, considering that I hate small towns. Maybe I enjoy the simplicity of my own personal space, while at the same time I want to have the ability to plunge myself into something bigger. It's like accessing a bigger world through a small door.

This has also made me begin to re-think my desire for a family. This might be my irrational fear of commitment, but I highly value my independence. I enjoy coming home when my family is all out and being able to have time and space to myself. If I had a family - even just a husband - finding that space would take more effort. Sure, it's lazy, but it's also what makes me happy. Even though Katharine Cook Briggs and Isabel Briggs Myers pegged me as 89% extroverted, I can only be around people for so long. Eventually, their incessant whining and taking life for granted gets on my nerves too much, and I need to retreat.

So, this is what I desire for my future. Maybe it's just post-Germany excitement, but it's a reality of myself.

I want to live in Germany for at least a year when I'm done. Not sure if/how that would be accomplished, but it's always possible.

I want to wait until my mid-thirties to get married/have kids.

I want to find a small, modest space that I can afford and call home.

I want to explore more of the world around me and see what it has to offer.

This is probably just a the-world-is-my-oyster approach of a soon to be 19-year-old, but at least I have something to work towards. I have goals, aspirations, a direction. I know what I want, and I'm going to work towards it unless I find something that could make me happier instead. Yes, I'll probably change my mind, but I can't go through life not committing to any dreams just because they might change. That would eliminate every ounce of hope from my life, and I don't plan on living life that way.

Look at what you did, Munich - you stole my heart and changed my dreams.