On Bars

I'm not quite sure what this post is about. Maybe it's about how last night, I met a girl who might, maybe, be me in a few years. She's the same age but somehow managed to hit the end while she was still living at home (an unthinkable feat in my mind). She was able to witness that, yes, it sucks, it destroys your world. And she was able to look at me and say—you can do it. You can put your life back together. You'll be ok.

Maybe this post is about how we then went to a bar with a group of friends. It was my first time in a bar, though of course I didn't drink. So maybe that's what this post is about—that over the last month, I've embraced the fact that I will never be able to just leave the traditions; that it's something I love too much and that has had too profound of an influence upon me to be able to walk away. Is it possible to participate in the church without advocating? It's been deeply instilled in me that no, this is inherently impossible. There are so many places I don't belong…

Back at the End

There's no easy way to rebuild your worldview. This year has been rough. Very rough. I find myself just as exhausted tonight as I was at the beginning, and I feel like I've made little to no progress—at finals week, it's striking me how precious little I've given to or received from the classes which once drove me to willing, happy slavery. What happened? Where did I lose my perfect, energetic, inspired self in trying to find myself?

How do I fill the void which was at one time so richly, amply supplied? The words to In the Middle of Me by Todd Agnew once cheered me and now taunt me. So this is the price of truth, of craving with everything in me to just stop…lying…though the world was so many times sweeter when I could rest on that drug.

It seems like an apt time to perhaps share a little of the beginning of my story. Well, glad you asked…