It's only Wednesday, but this has already been a long week. I worked 32 hours in four days, went to class, did homework, helped my roommates rearrange the apartment, starting requesting information from grad schools, had a minimal social life . . . add to all of that not sleeping enough, probably not eating enough, and definitely not praying enough, and you'll get the picture of how much (or little) energy I have right now.
On top of my busy schedule this week, I've also found myself experiencing something of an identity crisis. It started more or less in conjunction with me requesting info from grad schools. As I've been looking at these different programs at different schools, I've become incredibly overwhelmed. I realized today that less than 16 months from now, I'll be graduating with my B.A. That's terrifying. It means that two years from now, if everything goes according to plan, I'll be starting my first semester of grad school. But that's the problem—I don't really know what the plan is anymore. I've always assumed that I would go to grad school. It seems like the natural course of action for me. But is it really what I want? More importantly, is it really what God is calling me to?
This current identity crisis definitely follows the theme of the past year or so. It's just one more item on the list of things that have gone wrong. A year ago, I was just beginning another battle with depression that threw me way off my game for the entire school year. The summer wasn't much better—sure, I finally had a job and was starting to make money, but I had next to no human interaction outside of work, and most of my contact with people there happens over the phone. It was definitely a lonely, miserable summer. I was hoping that once I got back to school, back with friends, that things would start looking up. And yet here I sit, still frustrated, still unhappy, still trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong.
Maybe I'm just afraid that this is as good as it's going to get. I want more . . . I want life. I'm finding myself slipping a little more every day, slowly but surely losing a battle I'm losing the will to fight. And do you know what the worst part is? I know what went wrong . . . and it's entirely my fault.
I grew up going to church. I was raised in a strongly evangelical Christian environment. I was super involved in youth group—my senior year of high school I was at church (or church events) at least four nights a week. And then graduation rolled around . . . and I started to realize that I didn't feel at home at church anymore. I stopped going. I kept telling myself that I would have plenty of opportunities to find a church once I got to Northwestern, so it was ok to take a little time off; I was burned out. Only once I got to Northwestern, I didn't take those opportunities. I made almost no effort to get involved in a new church. I left high school feeling bitter and angry toward the church that practically raised me. I had seen too much of the ugly side of church to have any real desire to go back. At first I thought I could get by; after all, I spent time praying with friends, I was taking Bible classes, and I was still keeping up my one-on-one time with God. But then the homework hit, and life got busy, and I made a pretty rapid decline into apathy.
So here I sit, two-and-a-half weeks into my third year of college, still drifting, still frustrated. The spiritual apathy that started taking over two years ago has started working its way into other areas of my life. I haven't been as dedicated to studying as I used to be. I haven't tried very hard to take care of myself. I've even found myself caring about people less. Every day I see people that I know I should be reaching out to . . . someone who needs a hug, a little encouragement, even just a smile . . . and I do nothing. And I hate it. I hate not caring. I'm not supposed to be that person.
I want something more. I want to live. I've just forgotten how.
It's weeks like this that make me particularly thankful that God is so faithful. I will never understand how or why He's still putting up with me . . . but I'm glad He is.
On top of my busy schedule this week, I've also found myself experiencing something of an identity crisis. It started more or less in conjunction with me requesting info from grad schools. As I've been looking at these different programs at different schools, I've become incredibly overwhelmed. I realized today that less than 16 months from now, I'll be graduating with my B.A. That's terrifying. It means that two years from now, if everything goes according to plan, I'll be starting my first semester of grad school. But that's the problem—I don't really know what the plan is anymore. I've always assumed that I would go to grad school. It seems like the natural course of action for me. But is it really what I want? More importantly, is it really what God is calling me to?
This current identity crisis definitely follows the theme of the past year or so. It's just one more item on the list of things that have gone wrong. A year ago, I was just beginning another battle with depression that threw me way off my game for the entire school year. The summer wasn't much better—sure, I finally had a job and was starting to make money, but I had next to no human interaction outside of work, and most of my contact with people there happens over the phone. It was definitely a lonely, miserable summer. I was hoping that once I got back to school, back with friends, that things would start looking up. And yet here I sit, still frustrated, still unhappy, still trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong.
Maybe I'm just afraid that this is as good as it's going to get. I want more . . . I want life. I'm finding myself slipping a little more every day, slowly but surely losing a battle I'm losing the will to fight. And do you know what the worst part is? I know what went wrong . . . and it's entirely my fault.
I grew up going to church. I was raised in a strongly evangelical Christian environment. I was super involved in youth group—my senior year of high school I was at church (or church events) at least four nights a week. And then graduation rolled around . . . and I started to realize that I didn't feel at home at church anymore. I stopped going. I kept telling myself that I would have plenty of opportunities to find a church once I got to Northwestern, so it was ok to take a little time off; I was burned out. Only once I got to Northwestern, I didn't take those opportunities. I made almost no effort to get involved in a new church. I left high school feeling bitter and angry toward the church that practically raised me. I had seen too much of the ugly side of church to have any real desire to go back. At first I thought I could get by; after all, I spent time praying with friends, I was taking Bible classes, and I was still keeping up my one-on-one time with God. But then the homework hit, and life got busy, and I made a pretty rapid decline into apathy.
So here I sit, two-and-a-half weeks into my third year of college, still drifting, still frustrated. The spiritual apathy that started taking over two years ago has started working its way into other areas of my life. I haven't been as dedicated to studying as I used to be. I haven't tried very hard to take care of myself. I've even found myself caring about people less. Every day I see people that I know I should be reaching out to . . . someone who needs a hug, a little encouragement, even just a smile . . . and I do nothing. And I hate it. I hate not caring. I'm not supposed to be that person.
I want something more. I want to live. I've just forgotten how.
It's weeks like this that make me particularly thankful that God is so faithful. I will never understand how or why He's still putting up with me . . . but I'm glad He is.
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