YOU FOUND ME

Religion is about as personal as personal gets. It's the most personal part I possess. It's something I don't really like talking about or sharing with other people, even though I know I should. My relationship with God is my own, and I like it that way. It's such a personal part of me that I would be really hurt if someone attacked me or disagreed with me. Everyone has different opinions about their God, and you would be hard pressed to find two people whose idea of God or religion match up exactly. But everyone has expectations and hopes for something greater than themselves.

I've always thought "You Found Me" by the Fray (sorry for the cheesy throwback) sums up my struggle pretty well. I've tried to pick out just a line or two to talk about, but that's far too difficult. So I'm just gonna look at some chunks.

"I found God on the corner of 1st and Armistad

Where the West was all but won

All alone, smoking his last cigarette

I said, 'Where you been?' He said 'Ask anything'"

 One thing I have realized is that you can find God in some really unexpected places. Sometimes even downright weird places. In the faces of the ones you love, in the faces of strangers, in the beauty of nature, in the mundaneness of a textbook. I think the strangest places I saw God was in a gas station bathroom. Couldn't make that up. I'm telling you, it's possible.

"Where were you when everything was falling apart?

All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang

And all I needed was a call that never came 

To the corner of 1st and Armistad" 

"Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret". Except my name's not Margaret. So I guess this Judy Bloome reference from the 70's isn't totally applicable. But the feeling she was talking about definitely is. Like I'm sure I've said a million times, I grew up in a Catholic family going to Catholic schools. I was taught how to read the Bible, had to pray the Rosary, what to say when during Mass. But what I was never taught was how to really talk to God; I was never taught how to believe. My faith was a duty for me. I would go through the motions of it all, but it never meant more to me than that. It was a chore. Whenever I had a hard time, though, my first instinct was to pray. It was strange, like something just kicked in. Most of the time, nothing would happen. At least, I felt like nothing was happening. It was like "UHM HELLO!! HI. I'M HERE. CAN YOU PAY ATTENTION TO ME?" 

"Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me

Lying on the floor surrounded, surrounded 

Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?

Just a little late, you found me, you found me"

Where did God found me? On my bathroom floor at around 3:30 AM. After nights and nights and days and days of feeling like I really didn't see what the point was anymore, I was laying on the cold tile floor when I had a sudden overwhelming sense of peace. It was a few days into my intensive program, and I was scared to death that this wouldn't work. But it HAD to; this was our last resort. This was it. After this, it would be a white flag waving. I was lying on the ground, with the faucet on so I wouldn't wake my parents up with my crying, because I was absolutely terrified of waving that white flag. All of a sudden, the words "You will be okay" came into my head. Over and over. At first, I thought this was my optimistic thinking. But it was enough to get me off the floor and back into bed. As time went by, I realized that was not my optimism. That had to be a God thing. Now I can't prove it, but I think that's the point of faith. I believe that was him reaching out to me. Maybe it was a little bit later than I hoped, and I was undoubtedly scared and lost, but he got there. He was always there, I think. But that's where he found me. Or maybe that's just where I found him. 

BIGGER

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I got a phone call the other day from my incredible woman of an aunt, who has forever been a role model to me. Despite always living states away from each other, she has always seemed to understand me on a level that not many other people do. She always seems to know what is inside of my head and my heart, and connects the two. She is a voice of reason and logic. During our hour-long catch up call, she told me that she thought I had a talent for writing. She said she thought I could help people through this blog. Hearing this from her meant more than it would have meant coming from most other people. It sort of woke me up. I realized I want this thing to be bigger than just me.

I reluctantly started this blog a few months ago, thinking, “Okay, two people MAX will read this thing. Three if I include myself. So what’s the harm in putting this stuff out there? It’s not like it’s going to change anything.” I started this blog for me; I wanted it to be a place to sort through my thoughts and piece them together. Maybe I even wanted it to be a scrapbook, of sorts. But it has stirred up things in me (for lack of a less corny term…) that I didn’t know were there. I realized how much I love writing. I’ve also realized how much I love the idea of being a source of comfort and help for someone. I was afraid of this blog changing things. The last thing I wanted was for people I knew reading this and looking at me any differently, because most people don’t know I have struggled with this stuff. I didn’t want to put myself in such a vulnerable and open spot. But the more I write here, the more I realize that I want more than anything for this blog to change things. I desperately want this to help someone.

When I started thinking about what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, counseling was definitely on the table. There was always a part of me, and at times a pretty large part, that wanted to help kids like me. I thought about how cool it would have been if one of my doctors had been able to tell me that they knew what it felt like to be where I stood, that they could relate to me. Not that I didn’t have good doctors, I had a few great ones. One even changed the game for me. But no one was able to quite get on my level. People can read textbooks and look at case studies and examine patients and have an impressive degree hanging in a frame on the wall of their office, but until you struggle with it yourself, you cannot begin to imagine what it’s like. I make it sound like it’s this fancy, exclusive club with a line out the door that you need a gold card membership card to get into. But it’s not the kind of club you want access to.

After I started writing my stories down on this blog, I started thinking about how much I would have loved to have someone to talk to who knew what I was talking about. I would have been so grateful for someone who had gotten through it to show me what their life was like after they got over the hill. Someone who could tell me first hand that I wasn’t as crazy or as alone or as stupid as I felt; that things would get better. 

I think this blog may be my way of being that person for others. I think that’s the direction I want to take this thing. I want this to be a place that people can reach out, know that they aren’t alone. It’s still going to be my way of sorting through the massive amount of shit going on in my head, but I don’t want this to be just for my benefit. My hope is that someone, somewhere takes comfort in these words. That some little girl sitting in her bedroom in the middle of the night, terrified to fall sleep because that means she has to wake up and start a whole new day, will read this and get even just a sliver of hope.

Because I know what I would have done for that sliver of hope.

RISKY BUSINESS

You know something I have recently realized I hate more than a lot of other things? Risks. I detest taking risks. Ever since I was little, I avoided them at all costs. I never talked out of turn in class. I never strayed from the strict uniform code growing up in private schools, no matter how badly I wanted to wear socks that didn't come above my ankles. When my friends and I used to make prank phone calls, I was never the one to talk to the poor innocent soul we were harassing. And when I was, I always hung up the phone as soon as the person on the other end answered. Except for the time in eighth grade when my friends and I sang Britney Spears to our principal, and I was the one that had to go into the police station for questioning when she filed a complaint (story for another time...I'm still scarred). Bottom line, I was never a trouble maker. I liked to know what was expected of me, and stick to it. Part of this was because I'm an insane people pleaser, which I'm working on, but the other part was just because I really didn't want to risk getting in trouble.

Even as I got older, when the risks were different than getting in trouble, I still opted out whenever I could. So many times in high school, my anxiety would get the best of me because I didn't want to risk getting stuck in a situation I was uncomfortable in. I wouldn't go to parties or dances because I didn't want to risk it. I didn't go on vacation with friends because "What if something happens?" was as far as my brain would think. I had my safe little bubble, and I liked it in there. Only, come to find out, I hated it in that bubble. I just didn't know it yet.



In all honesty, college was probably the first big risk I took. My parents didn't think I was going to go away. And with good right. Leaving home and going to school in a city of nearly three million people shouldn't have even been on the table. There should have been no way. But I was determined to do it. Up to that point, everything people said I couldn't do, I couldn't do. They weren't being pessimistic, just realistic. But something was telling me I could do this; that, as terrifying and impossible as it seemed, it was manageable. And so, one day after school, I told my mom where I was going to school. No more looking, no more talking, I had decided on DePaul University. She said okay, and we made plans for me to attend in the fall. But from that day until the day I left for school, maybe even a few weeks after I started, I think my parents still had doubts. I never did. I still don't know why I didn't. I have no idea what made me so confident that I wouldn't fail, but I knew I wouldn't. And I didn't. College is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I grew in ways that I couldn't have even dreamed of. The person I was before I left for my freshman year is a shadow of who I am now. I sometimes don't even recognize her.

Except sometimes I do recognize her. Even after such a positive outcome of such an enormous risk, I still HATE taking them. I hate jumping off that cliff. When I get to the bottom, I'm almost always glad I stepped off. But it's the whole free fall down that scares me shitless. The risks are different in this stage of the game, though. School, career, friends, love. The funny thing I've noticed lately is that some of the risks I'm afraid to take are because things seem too good to be true. I feel like I need to run because there is just no way I can possibly be this happy. So I should get out now, before things get really messy and I get hurt. Who thinks like that? I want to get out of an incredible situation because I'm afraid to risk getting hurt? That would be screwing myself over in the largest way possible. Yes, things could go horribly wrong. And friendships could be ruined, or my heart could be broken. But I can't live my life half-assed in order to prevent the possible negative outcomes. Because what if those things don't happen? And things turn out perfectly? How would I ever know that if I didn't take the risk? So I'm going to just start taking those risks. Jumping off that damn cliff, even if I scream the whole way down.

CHANGE.

It always amazes me how much can change in such a short amount of time. Day by day goes by and things just sort of gradually move along, but all of a sudden you look back and realize everything is different. It sort of freaks me out. It can be a bad thing, but it can also be a great thing. I think that's what makes life so crazy cool. There is always the potential for change. I look back at my life just a month ago, a mere 30 days, and realize that it is not what I had planned on. Some of it is sad, and some of it is so wonderful I can't put it into words. I'm not really sure what this post is supposed to say to you. I guess what I've been learning is not to settle. So often, I feel like we settle for bad relationships, toxic friendships, stupid drama, and unfulfilling things. What in the hell is the point of all of that? I think the older I get, the more important it is to me that I surround myself with positive people and things. There's no room or time for people that bring you down or make you feel bad. In the past 30 days I have lost a friend, but I have also reconnected with an old one. In the past 30 days, I have met someone. I have met someone who has started to heal me. He makes everything else seem irrelevant. In the past 30 days, I have made huge decisions about what is important to me, who I let in, and who I want to be. All it took was 30 days.

Change. It's something that scares us all to death, if we're really honest with ourselves. Even if we aren't in love with how things are right now, the idea of things changing is terrifying. Maybe because we think things might get worse, maybe because we think we might lose something, maybe because we think we won't ever get things back to the way they are. But what if things get better? What if we realize that losing that thing you were so afraid to lose is probably the best thing to ever happen? What if, just what if, things change in such a way that we don't want them to go back to how they used to be? What if things change into exactly what you need them to be?

Things can change in the blink of an eye. One decision, one moment, and everything changed. Things I thought I could plan on are different. Someone I thought I could count on failed to live up to my expectations. But most of the important things in my life are still the same. I have my family, I have my best friend Rose, I have my health, I have school, I have my thoughts and dreams and beliefs. And now, I have something else that I wasn't planning on or looking for. Funny how that happens, you meet someone and you expect nothing of it. And then all of a sudden, they change things for you. And in a single night, with a simple walk home, everything changed. In the best way I could have imagined.