The Meaning of I

There's nothing quite as destructive as a revelation. Whether it's a joyous or disastrous one, it's dynamite. In the case of the former, it shatters the walls that keep you imprisoned by misunderstanding, opening up paths to new, relief-filled enlightenment. For the latter, it attacks the very core of your understanding, damaging, even obliterating the foundations upon which you've based all of your beliefs.

Many times I've speculated that if a true, faithful follower of Christ had presented to him completely irrefutable evidence in the nonexistence of God, thereby disproving all doctrine upon which his faith was based, when the reality of that sank in, he could become the most dangerous man in the world. The reason being, everything he had been shown as the work of God's hands, everything he had been told and taught, everything he believed, everything upon which he based all of his morals, ethics, and truly life itself, would be a lie. He would have no reason to continue in any of that. Combined with the emotional trauma that would be inevitable in such a situation, he would either snap and live a life of sheer recklessness likely ending in a quick death, or he would accept and complacently waste away.

Mind you, and I reiterate, this would have to be completely irrefutable evidence. Therefore, since no such evidence could possibly exist, this scenario is completely hypothetical. It is, however, tied in with identity crisis, which is a different revelation of the same general sort. Incidentally, it's what I'm experiencing right now.

All my life, I've built up this view of myself. Who I am, what I like, my natural tendencies, that sort of thing. I've liked to think of myself as somewhat of an expert on myself. Who better to know you than yourself, right? There is no one that will ever understand you the way that you do, except God (which, sidenote, is one reason why relationship with Him is so important).

But what happens when you're wrong about that?

This morning, as I sat in class reflecting on my apparent lack of understanding of the subjects that will be covered on the exam next class period, then naturally allowing that to spiral downward and accumulate negative thoughts about the other aspects of my life that appear to be falling apart, I came to the stark realization that I have no idea what I'm doing in life. I am studying a field in which I have invested an interest, but is evidently conceptually beyond me; my brain simply refuses to process it.

The damaging part of all this is, I never envisioned myself doing anything else. As I try to do that now, I have to ask myself what it is that I enjoy. This was already something I was doing, with some frustration. Part of it must come from depression, but I'm having trouble discerning what things I actually enjoy, versus what I've just picked up from my various associations. It makes me question how much of "me" is just adapted as I'm trying to fit in somewhere. In essence, am I really "me"?

That brings up another concern, which is on a different field entirely: social. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I feel like I don't fit in anywhere, even though I associate with a lot of people. Being peripheral in a lot of groups seems so empty and shallow when compared to being an important part of one or two. In the social circles I'm in some way involved in, I add little and have trouble relating. I try too hard, and it's obvious.

I'm afraid of the conclusions I might draw from all of this. But more than that, I'm afraid that I won't ever draw conclusions. In the past I've been completely convinced of who I am, at least in certain respects, only to realize later that that wasn't me at all. When that sort of thing happens (as it has more than once), it makes me feel wishy-washy; like my character has no integrity, and I'll just shapeshift again to match my environment when it changes. But I'm never truly happy with that, because I'm still not true to myself.

This is more long winded than I wanted it to be, so I just want to sum this up a little bit. The things mentioned here, while they do bother me, are not the reason for my despair, so much as symptoms of the fundamental problem of truly not knowing myself. My fear is that my hopeless feeling is correct; that I will never truly know myself. My prayer, of course, is that I will gain clarity, which will fly in the face of that hopelessness.

Imago

What an emotionally torrential week it's been.

The cause? Who can really say? There's been a lot going on internally. Battles fought within the solitary confines of my own head. It's no wonder so few people understand depression and anxiety; they're only seeing the effects. And only some of them, at that.

So what goes on in my head? Nothing fun, let me assure you. Not like how it used to be, when the world was fresh. I'd use my God-given, vast imagination as my own private playground. I was the hero then, smiting the bad guys, saving the world, getting the girl in the end. You know, classic fantasy tale, where everything ends up as the reader thinks it ought to. But that was a long time ago. Now my mind is cluttered with debris from shattered dreams and aspirations. A veritable minefield: tread on the wrong topic and we have an explosion of negative emotion, which often triggers half a dozen others. I couldn't even begin to describe what the topography must look like after all these years. It's not so pretty anymore, and I feel it.

That was a slight digression, but I liked the analogy, so I figured I'd run with it.

But it's true: it only takes a single misstep sometimes to launch me into full-scale psychological civil war. And the thing about such warfare is that the only casualty is myself, piece by piece.

I don't know that I can really describe the relationship between that and the emotional disorders, except to say that it is, at least in part, causal. My many mistakes and failures of the past have contributed to a corrupt self-image, in which I consistently tell myself that I am worthless, and then back that notion with conjectures about people's opinions of me.

There is everything wrong with this picture.

In fact, I'm looking at it all wrong. As a friend of mine recently told me, we're made in the image of God, and because of that, it's not even my right to hate myself the way that I so often do. To do that is akin to looking at Christ on the cross and saying that His perfect sacrifice wasn't enough to redeem me. Talk about a slap to the face of the Creator of all things.

The problem is, I've entrenched myself in this mentality. I know my validation has to come from Christ. But for some stupid reason, that's "just not good enough" for my subconscious mind. The unbelievable nerve of such pride, that the specific and unconditional love of the Almighty God of everything is just not good enough for me! So I still seek the empty approval of other human beings that are, each in their own way, just as screwed up as I am.

I want to end this on a happy note, but this is the present condition of things. So I'll finish with the reassurance to myself and to any readers that I'm seeking long-overdue wise counsel for this problem. Let's pray that I have the wisdom to comprehend the truth.

Turn the Page

I had an eventful weekend. That is to say not much actually happened to directly change anything, but a lot was spoken to me. I guess that's what sermons and seminars are for.

This weekend, I got to hear two great speakers talk about some of the issues and struggles Christians have to deal with in everyday life. Aimed at men specifically, in this case, but nothing says the rules don't apply to everyone. We talked about subjects like obeying God, allowing the hardships in life to shape and temper us, and ultimately getting up and moving on through our brokenness.

These were hard things for me to hear, being as broken as I am. I always inwardly hope that God will just fix my broken parts and give me what I want when that's done. Of course, it's never happened that way, which often leaves me wondering just what the hell God is actually doing with my life. But I guess that's not for me to know yet.

Faith is hard.

Sunday night I had a lot to think about. Between the incidents that have happened over the past year or two and the messages that I heard over the course of the weekend, I was basically a nervous wreck. Still kind of am, to be honest. So I spoke to a friend of mine who can relate and understand, to some extent, the monsters with which I torment myself every day, on account of having similar monsters of their own. That is to say, this person kinda gets me, and I thank God that I've been blessed with such a friend.

Well, during a short, but extremely impactful conversation about one of the main sources of pain and confusion in my life, my friend essentially reiterated everything that was said over the weekend in a short summary: do the work and make the movements that God is commanding me to make, and He will set me free from the things that have a hold on me.

I didn't tell this friend anything about the messages I had been hearing all weekend, nor about the recurring theme, giving me a nagging feeling about one stronghold I've had for a long time. All weekend, I kept thinking about an environment that has been a comfort zone for me for a long time. Unfortunately, it's also become increasingly cancerous in recent times. The feeling I kept getting was telling me that it was time to break free from that fortress, which had kept me emotionally safe in the past, but now acts as a prison.

I'll say again: I didn't tell my friend any of this. Didn't even bring it up. So when it was said that I had to get up and make these movements, I felt like my friend was given God's authority to speak directly to my core, to issue a command for me to immediately break through this stronghold. These words felt like they were spelled out for me plainly, as though written down, in English, on paper.

So today, I did the bravest thing I've ever had to do: I obeyed that command. I believe that God has spoken to me. I don't understand it, and I have no idea what to expect. To say that I'm nervous doesn't even scratch the surface of how petrified I am with fear of this unknown. But I want my God to be sovereign in my life, and I have to believe that He will catch me, even if I fail, when striving after Him.

In the Presence of Enemies

My thoughts have been irrational for the past couple of days. I could swear that I'm alone here, and that all my friends have abandoned me. But where normally it just seems like they don't understand my depressive tendencies and I'm difficult for them to relate to, lately it feels more directed and hostile.

As I look around at the people to whom I once felt so close, I can't help but feel isolated, even when I'm surrounded by friends. I see them interacting and enjoying the company and kinship of one another, I find myself wondering why I can't just be normal and part of the group. I've come to the jarring realization that I simply do not belong here. Where it began with what was just a failed romantic relationship, the end of which, by and large, forced me to believe that I am romantically unlovable, now this problem seems to have spread to my platonic friendships as well.

I know this is imagined. I know they don't mean me any harm, and that they truly just don't understand. I know, deep down, that this struggle is a lie I've internalized somehow, and that my unrelatability is what omits me from conversation and group activity, creating an absence of belonging. And I know, furthermore, who my real enemies are, and they're all internal monsters that have manifested and flourished over the years.

With all the things I know, I wish logic and reason were more effective solutions to emotional problems.

Endless Sacrifice

Among the things I've taken to meditating on is love. Now, with all the things I do wrong, I can say with some confidence that this meditation is not one of them. Contemplation of love is, I think, one of the things any follower of Christ should indulge in frequently because, as I may have mentioned before, the importance of love is paramount in Christian living. That should go without saying.

Actually, I was blessed the other day with an opportunity to share this view with one of my coworkers; someone I'm uncertain has any understanding of what a Christian actually is. A lot of people have misconceptions about that, believing that Christians in general are just legalistic and pretentious, living our lives as the self-appointed judges of the world. Unfortunately, unaware of how we actually come off, this often ends up being the case. But with this coworker, the conversation we had flowed somewhat naturally into the vocalization of the loving way that Christians are called to live, and that a lot of us just subconsciously slip into the lifestyle for which we are often known.

Did my basic, abridged testimony have the intended effect of showing an accurate view of Christ's love? I hope so. But the depth of thought I've had on this subject couldn't be broken down into one short conversation in a professional setting.

A thought I've had spontaneously enter my mind several times over the years is the significance of sacrifice in love. To say plainly what I've said before, "If it ain't selfless, it ain't love." That is just to say, love necessarily involves sacrifice. That doesn't mean you'll never receive love, but it does mean that you must be willing to give it with the possibility of it not being reciprocated. I'd give some verses about when God set that example toward us, but that would pretty much encompass the entire Bible. So we'll just stick with the end of each gospel for examples: Christ allowed Himself to be crucified by us, for our sins. There's nothing more loving. There's nothing more selfless. There's nothing more sacrificial.

So where's the balance? Hypothetically, what if you give and give that love, endlessly, to your fellow man, but never seem to receive it? What if you're so busy caring for others that you don't have time and energy to care for yourself? To me it seems that real love is to necessarily have that willingness, knowing that God is pleased all the more, and that He loves us infinitely more anyway.

Practically, that means doing things you don't want to do, even and especially when you know your loving actions will go unrewarded, unacknowledged, or unnoticed. Why? Because Christ does it, and our calling is to be more Christ-like.

Bilateral

I know I've been posting a lot about progression and regression in growth in my life. Sorry that I'm not really sorry. After all, it is kind of an essential subject in the life of pretty much anyone, and as such, it's bound to be a major theme in this deeply introspective account of growing in faith and maturity. Redundancy ought to stress the importance of the matter.

Anyway, one thing I've noticed about my actions has been a vacillation between what I'll simplify as "good" and "bad" behaviors. Most of the time there doesn't seem to be much of a middle ground. I have what seem like bipolar mood swings, so to speak, of whether I'm living a Godly life or a worldly life. I won't go into the questions that are raised in my mind about the implications of the latter instances, regarding my faith, belief, and salvation. That's another post, for another time.

What I will describe is the frustration accompanying these tendencies. It's progress, but it's always so difficult to see, with all these unnerving, seemingly uncontrollable instances of backslide. In fact, it's often the case that, even in the heat of a negative moment, I am aware of the problem, but I'm unable to discern the cause, so I can't find a solution. And simply not behaving a certain way, for some reason, just doesn't work. Losing your temper, for instance, happens just like that. You lose it on accident. It's like spilling something and making a mess. Frustrating for everyone involved, especially the one who caused it.

I guess a better analogy would be wetting the bed. This is something most adults don't have to deal with anymore, because we outgrew it when we were young children. But recall, if you will, the frustration you may have experienced after such an accident. You'd made such great progress, but along came this one incident that broke it all. Then it's back to square one. Not really, but that's what it feels like.

Emotional and spiritual maturity work the same way. You go for a while, you seem to be doing well, and then you stumble. That's discouraging, even amid all the progress. More so though, because not everyone experiences the same trials, so not everyone understands the struggle. To some, it is a simple question not doing something, because they never had to deal with it in the first place. This adds a factor of solitude, which makes any difficult task even more so.

What I have to constantly remind myself is that growing and maturing do take time and effort, and they will always be marked with failure along the way. The real trick is internalizing those reminders in my darker moments.

Derelict

I've been considering the condition of my life again lately. I know, I know. Introspection is unhealthy for me. But it's kinda hard not to at this point. When things flatline at mediocre most of the time, and the only other landscape seems to be an assortment of valleys, it's hard to not wonder what it is that's causing it.

So at this point, I ask the obligatory question: what gives? Over the past year, I've stretched and strived for things in ways I hadn't in years. My patience and endurance have been tested on multiple instances, and for a range of time spans, many overlapping with one another. I've made mistakes and paid dearly for them, but learned from them as well. And at times I've done everything I could have done right, and still paid dearly for the actions of others.

So once again, it seems like my decisions have little to no impact on any given outcome. My positive, productive actions go unnoticed or are ineffective most of the time, while my lethargic inactions and mistakes stick out like hangnails and tend to have devastating consequences. My opinions are largely either unheard or disregarded, and so I've returned to questioning why I bother giving them voice.

What am I still doing wrong? I have worked so hard at turning my life toward the joyful, the productive, the good, yet it feels like the majority of that effort has been squandered. My circumstances in life go unchanged, despite valiant efforts to alter them. I can still acknowledge that, given where my life has been and the direction it traveled for so long, it will take time and effort to fix it, but when can I hope for that? Shouldn't I have seen some fruits of my labor by now?

And I know, from a Biblical standpoint, I shouldn't be concerned about the success of the wicked, and why I'm not flourishing when they are. But what about for the righteous? Not to compare myself and my situation to those of other people too much, but if other people are thriving and I'm not, to me that says something about my decisions. Specifically, that I'm doing something wrong.

What I need is for someone to look into my life and tell me what I need to change, and perhaps to help me change it. I need guidance from someone who knows what is right, but who also knows me and my circumstances. I need a mentor.