Have I done this? Should have I done that? I was so stupid for not doing that. For doing that.
God. I wish I were a very different kind of person.
Lately, a friend sent me this article about what psychologists call "Quarter Crisis." It's basically "mid-life crisis" but it's for the twenties and the thirties. Our contemporaries. After reading the article, all I could tell my friend was, "Why is this so true?" and "It's so depressing that I'm depress like this." It was a commiseration between two almost burnt-out twenty-somethings. But after that nighttime online talk, I woke up the next morning thinking, "I should do something about this!"
It's not that I haven't done anything about it. The problem was, I had trapped myself into a routine. Even though I'm not the most interesting person to have around, when I was in college, I used to dream and make sure I acted on that dream. But over the years, so many things have happened--we lost our father, we reached rock-bottom financially, I struggled to "hold the fort" as the provider, we moved to another country... so many things that I would find myself saying again and again, I'm so freaking tired.
So, so tired.
I was barely halfway my twenties and I yet I felt like I had hundred years worth of burden on my shoulders. It shouldn't be like this, I use to think. I am young. I should be adventurous. I should be excited to do something new. Meet new people. Be bold. Speak my mind.
I knew all of these things, and yet each morning, I would stretch out my arm, arch my back, look at my phone watch and think, "Sheesh. It's another day again. I wish it's done already."
Routine has robed me of vitality. Such as I had.
Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against routine. I love routine. But my problem was that I let routine be my life instead of just being a part of it. It was comfortable. It was something to look forward to the whole day which lessens my worry of something "bad" happening. In my not-so-long life, surprises often led to bad experiences so you would forgive my morbid reasoning.
But I digress.
I was depressed and trapped inside the life I've made for myself. Even the comfort of prayers and all the trappings of my religious upbringing wasn't enough to take me out of the darkness which surrounded me, but no one could see.
Acquaintances were accusing me of becoming colder and I couldn't bring myself to care. Why should I when they don't care about me anyway? They just wanted me to care that they cared. They wanted me to say, hey, yeah, come here and let me pretend I'm happy while you draw my blood. Let me smile my dumb smile while you talk trash about me to others while here I am minding my own business and not even talking about you. Yes, yes, just walk over me--the dumb, smart dummy who you think you have under your thumb.
Of course I may me exaggerating and they really cared, but the point is in addition to me being depressed, I was distrustful of the people around me. NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. Somehow I've failed to realize that most people don't understand because I stopped speaking a long time ago. Sure, I talk. But I've created this invisible wall between me and the world so I would stop getting hurt and getting affected by their derision. It also kept me from acknowledging their love, but I didn't really care.
Until that morning I read about that Quarter Crisis article. It wasn't an instant change of heart. No. I just kept thinking about it and thinking about the me who was more gregarious and lively ten years ago and I... I just cried.
I cried whenever I was alone. I cried before I fell asleep. I cried in secret for days.
Then one night, I as the tears flowed silently down my face, I just uttered one sentence:
Lord Jesus, I don't want to feel like this anymore.
Gradually, the tears stop. And with it, I found myself responding more to people. Whether it was a kind response or a response born out of angst or anger, I didn't much mind. What I realize was that I started speaking again.
And with my voice, I found the long buried dreams that I purposely killed or compartmentalized because I was to tired to face them.
It was the name of Jesus that actually freed me. Because I called-out.
I remembered the blind man who was called out to Jesus. He, too, was sick of his infirmity so when he heard Jesus was passing by, he just... called out.
35 As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. 36 And hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what this meant.37 They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” 38 And he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 39 And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 40 And Jesus stopped and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he came near, he asked him, 41 “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me recover my sight.”42 And Jesus said to him, “Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.” 43 And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God." - Luke 18:35-43 ESV
It was a risk he had to take because nothing else worked anyway. And he was healed.
"Your faith has made you well," Jesus said. And it did. It was faith that made him risk everything and call out. He has nothing to lose anyway.
And the same thing happened to me. And look at me now. Talking.
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