I have been put on a medicine that has brought me out of the manic-depressive cycles, and it helps me think clearly. I am now able to put aside my emotions over the breakup and not let them control me. I find myself searching deep into the question, “Why has this breakup been so hard for me?” and I’ve come up with four possible reasons; I believe all play into the difficulty of dealing with the breakup.

First, I really liked Julie. I would’ve given her my arm and leg to make her happy. I find myself contemplating whether or not we will become friends again next semester. Part of me wants this to happen and part of me does not, because I do not want to fall for her again or give any reason for the feelings to return. I mean, I liked her a lot, more than I've ever liked any girl. I look around at the girls on campus and see that hardly any of them even begin to compare with Julie.

Second, Julie symbolized Hope. When Julie died, Hope died. For all my life, I have prayed and prayed and prayed for love. When Julie came along, I thought God told me, “This is the one whom I have for you!” I thanked God for this answer to prayer, and the next day she ended it. Hope died with her words, “I don’t like you and don’t want to be with you anymore.” Those words have engraved themselves within me. I saw Hope leave and run after someone else… And I was left broken and bleeding upon the hearth of despair. I am just now beginning to return to hope, beginning to return to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I am not destitute of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Julie wasn’t the one and there’s someone better—someone more suited for me—out there. “Who is it?” I have no idea. But I’m daring to believe that hope exists and that God will stay true to His word.

Third, when Julie left me, I kept looking back on our relationship searching for ways I had failed at being a good boyfriend. I looked at myself and saw all sorts of inadequacies. Feelings of inadequacy clung to my heart in an icy grip, whispering faint voices that left craters upon my self-image, craters that are only now beginning to be filled: “You’re not good enough for a good girl. You’re not good enough physically, you’re not good enough emotionally, you’re not good enough mentally, you’re not good enough socially, you’re not good enough in all the ways that a good girl wants.” So what options did I have? I chose resignation. Sit in the woods, stare at the trees, and brood on all the ways I failed, dwell on all my inadequacies until I fully realized “Hey, I suck and will never get a girl.” Finally, with the depression medicine, some clarity came and I began realizing that I am not inadequate. God has made me how I am, and whoever "she" is will find me adorable, her huggable little teddy bear. Sure, I have some faults (who doesn't?) but God is transforming me daily to become more and more like His Son.

Fourth, a voice whispered to me, “This happened because you’re not a good enough Christian. If you would have only done better as a Christian, this never would have happened. It’s all your fault. There’s no hope for you.” I (wrongly) took these words to be the voice of God. It is said that Satan masquerades as an “angel of light,” simply meaning that he will sometimes take on the identity of divinity to accuse us. I fell into the pit of believing these lies. Yet one day someone told me, “When God speaks to us, He encourages us. When Satan speaks to us, he discourages us.” These words were quite discouraging, not encouraging at all! I am now listening to the quiet voice of God. “I am here. I love you. I like you. I am proud of you. Everything will be okay. I’ll take care of you.”