Home Is Where the Heart Is

I stopped blogging because...well because things seemed alright for awhile. But I need to come back. I need some place to be real. To sort. To organize thoughts. To ask questions.

I couldn't really put it into words until I got here. I left my home because of one particular event that happened. I told everyone I was leaving because of adventure and because I felt stuck and blah blah and those reasons are all TRUE but they were all sub-reasons. I was leaving because of one event that happened at the end of college and I felt as though if I didn’t move I would die. So I moved! And I’m alive! Yay!

And it was truly the best decision ever made aside from following Christ. I have changed immensely since being here, discovered new things, grown, developed, stretched, seen new things, experienced things...and I have never regretted it for one second. I love this city, everything about it! I love my roommate. I love my apartment. I love more things here than I could even list!

Yet the month of October has brought a wave of mental illness and serious life doubts along with it. With all the things I love, I am completely unhappy with two major life things. Also, for two months now I have wanted to go home every single night. (Which is a big deal because I didn’t feel homesick even one time for a solid year after moving here.) I am confused and often wonder if my homesickness is not actual homesickness at all but rather just a result of my extreme displeasure in the two major life areas.

First, there is my church. I have never felt so a part of something and yet so alone at the same time. I long for community. I long for relationships. I long for connection, sharing, friendships, conversation. I feel I have very very little of any of those things at my church. I have been there for over a year and yet every week I feel “on the outside looking in.” After two months of deliberation, and talking it over and over with my mother and roommate, I have decided to try to approach the head of the church and talk it over. I’m afraid. I’m afraid they will ask me to step down from being a team leader. I’m afraid they will ask me to leave the church. I’m very afraid that they might act or speak in ways during the conversation that will make me WANT to leave. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay.

But flipping through my journals tonight revealed something incredible to me–I’ve felt this way about my church longer than two months. I thought these were new feelings but my journal revealed I have been feeling them for eight months and not accepting that maybe I should try to do something different. But I am afraid to leave. I am afraid of hurt feelings. I am afraid of tension, awkwardness, fights, bitterness. More than anything in the universe, I am afraid of that bad event that happened in college happening again. And then I'll really have to move again! Is that what my life is? Causing one bad event and then the next and moving to get away? What happens when I run out of states?

I am afraid of being hurt. Honestly, there is no way I could leave without hurting them or being hurt. And despite the ways I feel so unhappy, this is the only church I've been to for my time here and I would miss even the miserable feelings so much. I am afraid there is nothing better. I’ve been to other churches, I’ve seen what they are like. All big and showy and flashy and “relevant.” I don’t want a church like that. I don’t want lights and a stage, I don’t want a show, I don’t want theatre. I just want REAL people. My church has REAL people, it’s just that they REALLY don’t connect with me.

Second life thing I don't like is my job. I love the job I do and the money I make. I loathe my boss. Sounds like not a big deal, but the type of job I have is one that I work constantly with my boss. You could say I am her “assistant.” And it’s not just that I don’t like the way she says things sometimes...no, no...this lady is certifiably CRAZY. She is emotionally and verbally abusive to everyone around her. She lies, cheats, steals, and tricks others into situations to make them look bad. She rejoices when others make mistakes. She never accepts blame, never admits to being wrong, and loves to create drama anytime she sees an opportunity. She is a PSYCHOPATH. There have been countless people work with her before me and no one has stayed very long. Of course I didn’t know that until after I took the job.

This is a much easier problem to fix because I WANT TO LEAVE! The only problem is, I feel as though homesickness is winning out and I keep thinking if I can make it with her a few more weeks then I can gather enough paychecks to get out of here. I also am keenly aware of the fact that despite my fancy diploma, jobs are ridiculously hard to find with as little experience as I have. I searched for the job I have now for over three months. So it’s back to the drawing boards as far as a job goes but until something else comes along, I have to be stuck in misery with crazy lady who makes me pray I get in a car accident on the way to work so I don't have to go in that day.

My heart has not been here this month. My heart is at home. But I have a major responsibility here to my roommate and I cannot just up and leave her until our lease expires which is 9 ½ months away! That is too long to be stuck in misery. I won't make it. Something has got to give and fast.

I have so many questions and no one to discuss them with. There were A LOT of reasons I left home. What if I happen to find someone to room with my roommate and I hop on a plane and one month or two months down the road I remember why I left? What if I start to feel suffocated again? I can’t come back! I can’t go back and forth! What if the reason I left home in the first place, that event I was trying to get over, what if I’m not over it? What if when I go back it starts to hurt again? What if there are no better churches and no better jobs at home?

But the biggest question is...if I found a church that I clicked with, one in which I could have family and friends and community and a place to grow spiritually, and IF I could somehow find another job...would I still want to leave here?

But night like tonight I feel like I can’t stay here a moment longer no matter what job or church came along...

The Death of Goo

I thought I could run away from unhealthiness. I thought I could merely weed through my possessions, pack only the deemed "healthy" things in my car and leave everything unhealthy 794 miles away. I thought unhealthiness surely could not get on the highway and follow me...

The thing is though, that unhealthiness is not embodied in one relationship or in one situation. I cannot simply leave an unhealthy relationship and become healthy. Unhealthiness is in my blood, in my brain, in my life. I cannot run away from it. It is in every interaction I have with others. It is in the way I talk to them, perceive them, and the way I talk to myself, perceive myself and tell myself how I "should" interact with others. It is in my habits and beliefs. It has been with me since I was born. Probably even before that.

Everything always seems fine at first. I start over. New people. New relationships. I think I'm sailing smooth. Then, ever so slowly unhealthiness creeps in. It is very slow. So slow that I never notice it. If it would just go BAM and attack suddenly, I think I could fight it off. But it's not like that. It's a creepy green goo that oozes into little cracks and pores that I leave open. It is so minuscule that I don't even notice. I continue on with what I am doing and then one day I turn around and I suddenly realize…Crap! I'm unhealthy again! There's green ooze covering EVERYTHING. It's EVERYWHERE. 

It goops up my whole brain so I cannot think clearly. It drips down and gets in my eyes - it's blinding. Suddenly my eyelids feel crusted shut like I have pink eye. It pools so heavy and thick on my chest that I cannot breathe, it feels like an elephant is standing on my sternum. It crawls all over my fingers - so sticky I cannot even open the door to get to a sink to wash my hands. It super glues my feet to the the floor. It embodies me. It engulfs me. Swallows me whole. 

And then I am lost in a black, dark pit of despair and I cannot find a way out. It happens time after time after time after time after time…and I guess I thought if I moved, it would not happen anymore. I thought if I left everyone who knew me and I started with new people who didn't even know I was unhealthy…then I thought I could hide it. I thought maybe green goo wouldn't show up in different lighting. I thought these new people would not even notice it and therefore I would not even notice it either and then it would simply disappear!

But it doesn't work like that. Apparently.

So what is this snot-like goo of unhealthiness? It's difficult to say, really. It manifests itself in so many different ways.

Sometimes it's sleepless nights full of unrealistic anxieties, and other times it's ruthless nightmares that leave me in cold sweats. It is depression; unreasonable suicidal thoughts; it is hateful, despising and down-right abusive self-talk. It is washing a hand towel after using it one time, and being throughly convinced every single night that dust or bugs got on my sheets during the day so I must change them before I can lie down. It's telling friends they don't like me and forcing them to fulfill my self-fulfilling prophesies of leaving me abandoned.

It is a vicious cycle in a downward spiral.

At it's core, this goo is merely a substance of something that interferes in my every day life.

At home when this gooyness would engulf me, I found myself over-indulging in relationships, staying busy from the second I woke up literally until the second I crashed in bed. I would constantly have something to do, someone to be with, some project to absorb all of my energy. I think most people would think this was a "good idea" but in many ways it proved to be a bad thing, as evidenced by the ruined friendships and the fact that when I moved here I could not stand to have a quiet moment without some distraction from my brain.

Oddly enough, here as this small spout of unhealthiness surfaces, I have found myself equally distracting my brain but in a new way. I have withdrawn from many people around me and engaged in books, cleaning and organizing. It's still the same concept: remaining busy enough to not think about the goo.

I am tired of being distracted. I am tired of feeling unhealthy. I think living the majority of my life "distracted" is a horrific tragedy. I think living a life of avoiding, adds more things to avoid. (*Side note: Don't take my words to the other end of the spectrum. I am by no means suggesting that it is healthy or beneficial to "sit around and mope" or to constantly think about things that make you sad. I am all for getting out of the house and turning on happy music even if you don't "feel" happy.)

The truth is, goo is inevitable in life. Everyone is a little bit unhealthy. Everyone has at least one unhealthy pattern, belief, habit, mindset, at some point. But how can one deal with an unhealthy problem when they are drowning in 7,000 foot deep pit of unhealthy goop!?

Any new, small goo added on to my life seems unreasonably unbearable because it adds on to what is already there. And by now that tower of problems, struggles, unhealthy habits, fears - it is all so high I cannot even see the top. It is such a large force I don't even know which situation caused which or how to untangle them.

I ran away here so I did not have to run away any longer. I am distanced here so I do not have to be distracted any longer. And I have a plan!!

So I introduce to you, dear nonexistent readers, my first big adventure of 2014:

It's called "Purposefully-Gooping-Unhealthy-Goo-All-Over-Everything-And-Constantly-Thinking-About-It-And-Facing-It-Every-Single-Day-And-Not-Allowing-Myself-To-Be-Distracted-From-It." 

I call it my "PGUGAOEACTAIAFIESDANAMTBDFI" Plan for short.

In understandable English, what this plan really means is that I am going to write. I have long known that I am a writer for I write constantly even if just in my head. I am going to write down everything that happened. Everything. Everything that I have ever tried to be distracted from, from the moment I was three years old. Every thing that I ever thought was my fault, everything that I felt ashamed of, everything that I was too afraid to talk about, and every unhealthy thing that ever existed. And I am even going to talk about Februarys. Which is a big deal because I hate to talk about Februarys. 

It's sheer stupidity I tell you - to run from green goo your whole entire life and then - when running full force to stop dead in your tracks, turn around, look it square in the eye and say "COVER ME DAMMIT! COVER ME AND BRING ME EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT! I AM NOT RUNNING ANYMORE! GOOP ME UP!!"

It's going to be hard, I know that. But I know that layer by layer I can completely demolish this goo. I know I am going to feel like I am suffocating. I know there are sleepless nights ahead for me, while I stay up wrestling with this sticky, poisonous goo. I know I am going to call into question every event, feel ashamed all over again, feel like all these things could have been avoided if I were just different or better or not so me-like! I know it is going to be a bumpy ride. But I also know that when I am done writing, I won't feel ashamed any more. I know that when I am done, I can forgive myself and the others that hurt me.

I am not saying when I complete this writing, that ten years down the road I won't have a sleepless night full of unrealistic anxieties. I think I, along with many other members of my family, struggle with mental illness and I don't think that is something I can simply shrug away. But I do think I can fight it so much that I can get to a place where even my most unhealthy days are ten times healthier than what they used to be.


Here's to a big (and Messy) adventure!