I have been spending much time with a certain girl. Ever since the beginning of February, when she invited me to go sledding with her and some friends, this girl and I have spent much time together everyday. I didn't plan on falling for her; it just sorta happened. Both of us fell for one another, but both of us were afraid to tell the other person. One night we went to the Eden Park amphitheater, and lying out on a blanket under the stars, I asked her, "I wonder why both of us are afraid to admit what's going on between us?" She said, "I don't know." The next day, she became my girlfriend. Her name is Courtney Benkert, and she is a wonderful girl. I have been much happier as of late because, I believe, she is in my life. She's funny, passionate, sensitive, has a wonderful personality, and basically I just enjoy hanging out with her and spending time with her. I like her much more than I ever liked Sonja, Julie, or Jessica. Here is a picture of her; isn't she adorable?! Her eyes just suck me right in!

It pisses me off so much when I see those people whom I care about very much go through immense suffering. When I see tears streaming down their face, I want to scream and cry and rant and rave all at the same time. I want to do anything—anything!—to take away their pain, to relieve the agony, but knowing the whole time that I am absolutely powerless in helping. It is the worst feeling in the world. All I can do is hope and pray, offering them a shoulder to lean on. What else can I do?

Satan attacks those whom I care about, and he attacks me as well. Usually these attacks take their form in thoughts, feelings, and emotions that swarm over me at certain times of the day or, oftentimes, for no apparent reason at all. He points out my mistakes, my errors, my pitfalls, and he tells me that my dreams to be a good husband and a good father, to be a minister of God, to make a difference in our world, are merely dreams that will torment me and never be tasted by my all-too-human lips. In these moments I look to the historical figure of King David: he made a grave sin—adultery, execution of best friend, lying in a political manner to cover up his sin—and yet God called him “a man after My own heart.” I have a passion for God and His kingdom running through my veins.

I am extremely tired. Today was a very fun day. My girlfriend and I went out to eat with some friends at a Chinese buffet, we went to the park, then we spent the evening at the overlook looking at the moonrise. It was quite romantic. Okay, so I am going to go to bed now. Good night.

Some people have this false notion that Christians never struggle with certain concepts of faith. One of the concepts I struggle with the most is God's love for me. These words of Rob Bell are inspiring and hope-filled, reminding me of the love and grace and worth that I have in Him:

God makes us in his image. We reflect the beauty and creativity and wonder of the God who made us. And Jesus calls us to return to our true selves. The pure, whole people God originally intended us to be, before we veered off course.

Somewhere in you is the you whom you were made to be.

We need you to be you.

We don't need a second anybody. We need the first you.

The problem is that the image of God is deeply scarred in each of us, and we lose trust in God's version of our story. It seems too good to be true. And so we go searching for identity. We achieve and we push and we perform and we shop and we work out and we accomplish great things, longing to repair the image. Longing to find an identity that feels right.

Longing to be comfortable in our own skin.

But the thing we are searching for is not somewhere else. It is right here. And we can only find it when we give up the search, when we surrender, when we trust. Trust that God is already putting us back together.

Trust that through dying to the old, the new can give birth.

Trust that Jesus can repair the scarred and broken image.

It is trusting that I am loved. That I always have been. That I always will be. I don't have to do anything. I don't have to prove anything or achieve anything or accomplish one more thing. That exactly as I am, I am totally accepted, forgiven, and there is nothing I could ever do to lose this acceptance.

God knew exactly what he was doing when he made you. There are no accidents. We need you to embrace your true identity, who you are in Christ, letting this new awareness transform your life.

That is what Jesus has in mind.

This is what brings heaven to earth.

Sometimes it feels like months go without the scent of change wafting in the air, without any reason to dream that things could be better… and then in a moment, everything changes. In two weeks, everything has changed. I’m hoping and praying that this change will be a lasting change, that it is not an ill-founded hope that shall be shattered on the rocks like so many of the changes I’ve gone through in the past. I’m hoping that I stand at the threshold of a different existence, where things start to come together and life begins to make just a little bit of sense. I’m frightened, though, because it seems like every time change does make its appearance, it is an illusion—and when one tastes the sweet nectar of deliverance, only to have it taken away in a heartbeat, it is the most excruciating pain imaginable. It feels as if your heart ventricles are filled with battery acid, smothered in gasoline, and then lit on fire and left to burn in the wastelands of the vacuums of space. Perhaps I am exaggerating; yes, I do believe I am. All I know is that the last two weeks have been wonderful. I have felt at peace, been joyful, and genuine depression has been a mere memory.

Why am I so frightened? I’ve always been so brave when it comes to these things. But now I find myself literally scared. Is it because there’s so much to lose? Is it because I’ve been hurt so many times in the past? Is it because I just think I am too unlovable, too revolting, too despicable? Or is it just because I am so ashamed of my past that I don’t think that God will ever—could ever—grant me the desires of my heart (my own past stares me down, and sometimes I feel as if God is shaking His head and thinking, “I can never bless someone like you. You’re too rotten.”)? I can’t really tell you why. All I know is that I find myself between a rock and a hard place: dreaming of a tangible future, but wondering if it will ever be a reality or if it’s just destined to be a dream forever.

Sometimes I feel so imprisoned by my past
that I am afraid to dream that
there might be more to life than what I have experienced.

And this fear holds me captive.

For months I lived a life of numbness, vacancy, hopelessness and despair. But as soon as it felt like things would never change, my life completely turned around. I finally feel alive, I finally laugh and feel free and experience the beauties of existence. But is this all a mirage? Is this all hopeful wishing? I look at myself in the mirror and shake my head. I am not that kind of boy. I am afraid I might be letting myself be suckered into delusions and fantasies, allowing my mind to take my emotions captive and funneling them through dead-end streets. I want this to be real. I want this to be what God told me about. I want this to be one of the reasons I am existing on this earth. But yet I am so terrified: “What if this is just another dead-end road? What if this goes nowhere? What if I’m deceiving yourself?” I always let myself fall into gaping holes when I least expect it, where everything is supposed to be smooth and polished. Right when I stop watching my steps, I fall—and while I hope it is a beautiful collision, most of the time it just turns out to be another crevice which I have to pull myself free of. However, whatever happens, it’s nothing extraordinary: if it is a dead-end, as I fear, I shall exit the street and continue on. I’ve done it a thousand times before.

Why am I so afraid? I know of so many boys who are not frightened like me. I think it’s because of the accumulation of past events and emotional trauma due to mental disorders that have brought out such a stigma against myself that fear has become my most intimate ally. I refuse to believe that I am lovable. I am ashamed of my looks, ashamed of my past, ashamed of who I am. I realize I have not made the same mistakes others have made, mistakes that are apparent to all who might inquire, but my own mistakes and errors and pitfalls are deeper: they find their home in my heart. I have such shame that I feel like I can never be the good boyfriend, the good husband, the good father, nor the good servant of God whom I so strongly desire to be. I find myself dreaming of a future of being a good husband and a good father and serving God in advancing His kingdom, and instead of excitement I experience dread: This is the life you so desperately seek, a voice whispers to me, but you’ll never taste it. You’ll never be good enough. First and foremost, the voice tells me, I will never be good enough, attractive enough, funny enough, or cool enough for a girl to ever find her eye upon me—and without that first step, how shall I ever become the “family man” I so earnestly wish to become? All of these doubts and uncertainties plague me.

Courtney and I were sitting out on the swing last night, and she said, “I guess I’m just seeing where life is taking me.” While she didn’t mean it (so far as I remember) in the way that I now use it, that’s what I feel like I must do: just sit back and let life take me where it will. Sit back and see what happens. Don’t dream, don’t hope, don’t desire… because dreaming, hoping, and desiring all ends in disappointment. Better to resign than to hope in a resolution that will never come.

P.S. I am feeling quite good today. My medicine is doing wonders for me. I write this not in a depressive state. I just want everyone to be clear on that. Depakote and lexapro are quite good teammates. So goodnight.

To laugh is to risk appearing a fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out for another person is to risk involvement.
To expose one’s feelings is to risk rejection.
To place your dreams before the crowd is to risk ridicule.
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To go forward in the face of overwhelming odds is to risk failure.
But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.
He may avoid sufferings and sorrows, but he cannot learn,
feel, change, grow, or love.
Chained by his certitudes, he is a slave.
He has forfeited his freedom.
Only a person who takes risks is free.
~ Leo Buscaglia

Certain “certitudes” bind me, and under their spells I become a slave, bending over and gritting my teeth with their lacerating lashings. I am chained by my past, unable to breathe and unable to feel, thinking that all that has ever been is all that will ever be. I am given the opportunity to take off the iron shackles, but yet I continue to turn my face from freedom. What is it that frightens me? It is the fear that freedom is hopeless, that where lies freedom, therein lies suffering. I am afraid to risk, for every time I have risked, I have been hurt. I am afraid to place my dreams before others, afraid to go forward in the face of overwhelming odds, afraid to reach out for others, afraid to expose my feelings, afraid to love. I am afraid of this because there is the great chasm of risk that must be leapt. A part of me screams to leap that chasm and see what happens; maybe my fears will die and my “certitudes” crushed to powder. Another part of me whispers, “Every time you have leapt before, you’ve just been more bloodied, beaten, and marred than before. You’re just going to get hurt.” So I can either leap the chasm, embracing either pain in defeat or joy in victory… or I can remain among those quiet, timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

"Dirty Doug's" closed at 6:00, so Nick and I went to "The Anchor Grill" in Covington. It's renowned for its cheap but excellent food, and you can smoke inside. We busted out a pack of Djarum Splash and let the smoke rise to the dimly-lit ceiling, talking about all kinds of things: girls, politics, our futures, and (mostly) how churches ought to be culturally relevant, and how being culturally relevant changes depending upon the demographic in which the churches exist (i.e. he knows a lot about ministry in the rural atmosphere, I know a little bit about ministry in the suburban atmosphere, and Nate knows a lot about ministry in the urban atmosphere). He has an apartment in downtown Cincinnati and works full-time and goes to seminary full-time, so I hardly ever get a chance to see him. It was nice catching up.

A whole bunch of us hung out on the patio talking for about four hours last night. It was a great time. Who all was there... It was me, Caleb, Julie, Tim, Monica, Brandon, Emily, and Dan. We had a fantastic time. The laughter was undeniable. Everyone begged me to do a dinosaur demonstration, so I gave them a lesson on the pack-hunting tactics of dromaeosaurs (I think I spelled that wrong), then I acted it out for comical effect. Everyone loved it. I have been doing amazingly well since my medicine has been kicking in. Mom and Dad said, "It's good to have you back." I hadn't left physically, but I had left emotionally: I had isolated myself in my heart. Monica said, "You've been doing a lot better. I can just see it in the way you walk, talk, and even in your eyes." Caleb, my closest friend on campus, told me, "You've been doing much better over the past few weeks. How have you been feeling?" "I've been feeling great," I told him. Sure, there are times when pain comes, when depression lurks, but--overall--it's been going really well. The amazing thing is that being in the presence of Tim and Julie when they were cuddling didn't bother me at all. I had no desire to be with her. I never thought I would reach this point... but I have :).

I got to talk with a new friend today. We sat outside (because of the wonderful weather) and talked about our pasts. I thought mine was bad, but when I heard this person's story, I literally teared-up. A great wind of sorrow and anger rippled through me. It hurts so much to see people have to go through so much pain. It makes me realize how wonderful I really have it. Your selfishness is never more apparent than when you see how lucky you are compared to others.

spring 2007

The weather outside is beautiful. I can’t help but smile with the wonderful entrance of spring. The birds sing in the trees, the sun dances over the grass, the air tingles against my cheeks. There is some sort of spirituality to it all: the wasteland of winter is evolving into the promise of summer, and spring is the transition. I have had a wonderful last few weeks, getting to know people and feeling my life change, and I feel as if I am in a transition: turning my back upon my life as I knew it and stepping into a totally different realm, one I didn’t expect but one that God had promised me would come. I can’t really explain this right now; after all, it is just something I feel, not something I can describe to you—even with eloquently-poised words.

I am really confused right now, about a lot of things, but this is a different sort of confusion. I’m getting to the point, I think, where it’s easier for me to trust God. I remember something He spoke to me over a year ago, a promise He made to me, and I remember something He told me (or so I believe He told me) at the beginning of first semester this year. I can’t help but wonder if the whirlpool of events in which I find myself is that which God was speaking of. You are undoubtedly confused, and I would explain in greater detail, but the truth is, I can’t (for more reasons than me being just as confused as you!). I guess I will just see where the road takes me, trusting that God knows what He is doing.

I want to start a serious Bible study, but I don’t know where to begin. I think I will start with something “simple” (perhaps the Book of Jude). My desire is to read the books in their original contexts with their original impacts, and then let the words of the writers pierce me, and then let the Holy Spirit guide me into making these convictions, encouragements, and commands a reality in my own life. The issue, though, is “time.” I know that is such a pitiful excuse, but I tend to be a lazy person. However, I truly desire to grow closer to God, to taste His goodness, to experience the grace and peace that comes from Him… and I know it will take effort: time and energy. It is this way with all relationships.

I am going out to eat at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Covington we C.C.U. students like to call “Dirty Doug’s” (because it is so mangy inside). But don’t let the lack of cleanliness deceive you: the food is top quality. A friend and I haven’t seen each other for quite some time, so we’ve decided to check out the old haunt. And I’m supposed to meet him in one minute so I must go. Goodbye for now.

Yeah. I'm weird.

It's nice to be back to school. It's been good hanging out with people. When I got back to school yesterday, my room was filled nine feet high with rolls of paper. James and I pushed it out into the hallway then shoved it against Hensel's door. Hensel then pushed it against Piety's door, and we left it there until the middle of the night. Around 2:00 a.m. I woke up hearing Piety yelling down the hallway. Today I went to class, ate lunch with my friend Courtney, took a drive downtown and relaxed by the swollen, muddy river (at the Newport Aquarium, they have a display of fishes of the Ohio River; there's a sign that says "All these fish are extinct because of the river's pollution."), and worked on a book report due Wednesday. Around 10:00 I learned that a summary of the gospel of Luke is due tomorrow, and I just finished it. It's the most beautiful B.S. paper I've ever written! The semester is winding down now, and I still have tons of papers to write (seven or eight big ones, if I'm not mistaken; I'll due one or two each weekend in desperation).

I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do this summer. I'm hoping for an internship this summer, and I'm thinking about working part-time for either I.G.A. or the community school system to make money on the side. Who knows what will happen? It'd be nice to be paid for the internship weekly, but if not, I'll wrestle with a part-time job.

Dad and I ate at a fantastic steak joint the other night: Ruth's Christ Steakhouse. My steak alone cost forty bucks, and the side of mashed potatoes cost ten. The steak was a pound of prime-rib, and it was seriously the best steak I've ever eaten in my entire life. I can't stop thinking about how amazing it was. And our waiter was pretty cool. I ate half of the steak, went to the bathroom and pooped for twenty minutes, came back, and ate almost all of the rest. So filling...

Good night.

Becoming like the Messiah is so hard, though! I mean, we have the sinful nature that wars against our transformation into people who are like God in nature, people who model the life of Christ’s selfless, serving, sacrificial, and kind love. We are, in our hearts, selfish, greedy, and indifferent people, enslaved to our lusts and desires: they enchain us. Even though these chains are broken as the blood of Christ drenches them (just as acid tears through steel, so Christ’s blood tears through the chains and snaps them), so that we are no longer enslaved and under the control of our sinful nature, we still bow down to it and submit to its lashings. I think this is what Paul spoke of in Romans 7.

I look at my own life and I see how unlike Christ I am. I see all the selfishness, greed, and indifference that saturates my life. But at the same time, I hear God calling me to a “higher life,” a life that reflects Him as the reflecting pool reflects the Washington Monument (quite a good analogy, since I’m actually writing this from my hotel room in D.C.!). “But how?!” is the question I ask. I don’t think transformation into a creature who reflects God’s nature and the life of Christ is something we force ourselves into; I don’t think we simply examine the attributes of the Divine and wear them as a jacket, pretending to be like Christ (didn’t the Pharisees do this in their pursuit of righteousness, in being like their God?). Rather, I think true transformation comes from the inside-out. God is the one who does the changing. As we bathe in Him, He enters into our hearts and rebuilds them, and our actions (manifestations of the heart) show this to be true. So I could simply look at the teachings of Jesus and try to emulate them, or I could look at the teachings of Jesus, fall onto my knees, and cry out, “God, change me!” Because though, I believe, we have an important role to play in spiritual transformation, it is an error to believe that God is just sitting in heaven saying, “Get things together.” It is also as erroneous to say that we can just sit around hoping for spiritual transformation to fall into our laps.

***

Dad and I went to a McDonald's today, and while we were there, a homeless man (or one claiming to be homeless) asked for money. As I walk the streets of D.C., I am always coming across people who are asking for money. I experience a tug-of-war within me: the compassionate part of me says, "Yes, give the poor guy some money," but the other side of me--perhaps a cynical side--says, "No. He's just going to use it on alcohol or booze, or he's just scamming you." So what do I do? I did some thinking today, and it's quite simplistic (in my mind). See, I don't think Jesus went around, evaluated peoples' hearts, and then decided whether or not to heal them. We see accounts of Jesus healing entire villages and communities of people, and one look outside our window (or, better yet, into ourselves) shows that having a community of heart-healthy individuals is impossible. But Jesus healed them anyway! He healed people even when he knew they would not follow him. He lavished his love on them anyway. I may not know what the homeless man is going to do with a buck or two, but I don't think I can let my cynicism drown out my compassion.

I found this on the National Museum of Natural History's official website, and because I think it's so fantastic, I decided to share it with all of you. Now, for the real post...

***

"What do I want to do with my life?"

When we question God's will for our lives, I believe we get lost in a complexity of hopeful answers. We think God is calling us to do this or that, and then, when it falls through or we absolutely hate it, we decide it's either God's will that we fail or that we are miserable, or we wonder if we misread God's will all along.

"What does God want me to do with my life?" The answer, I believe, is simple: "Whatever I want--as long as I'm believing in His Son, pursuing holiness, and advancing His kingdom."

So the question, then, is, "What do I want to do?" I want to be a preacher or a teaching pastor, I want to be a husband and a father, I want to be a writer and a speaker. That's what I want to do.

"Who do I want to be?"

I want to be someone who loves extravagantly, gives abundantly, and forgives immeasurably. I want to be a person of grace, mercy, and love. I want to be someone who models Christ, inside-and-out. No, in all honesty, I am far from this. I am a selfish, self-centered creature; yet God whispers in my ear, "Can I change you?" I will let Him change me, let Him transform me. I will let Him take the rubble and dirt that is my life--that is me--and I will let Him transform it into something beautiful. Will I ever fully be the person whom I desire to be? No. I have no false illusions of ethical grandeur. I will make mistakes, I will break hurts, I will let people down. But I will continually pursue a life of imitating the model of the Messiah.

I’ve picked up this book below as some reading material over break, and so far I am impressed. I highly recommend it to everyone. I really enjoyed N.T. Wright’s Paul, even though I often found it too technical and detailed to comprehend sometimes. His writing in this book, however, is very simplistic. The first third of the book focuses on some evidences that there are bigger things going on in our world than we often admit, and he uses very detailed and sophisticated arguments to make his point. In part three, he moves into an examination of the Christian faith from his perspective. And in the final part, he contemplates how our lives might be different if Christianity were true. I’m only to the beginning of part two, and I really enjoyed part one. Pick this one up!

My dad and I arrived in Washington, D.C. around 5:00, and we took a taxi to our hotel right along a popular strip of restaurants and shops. We spent the evening walking down Connecticut Avenue and examining the hole-in-the-wall eateries and such; we have a list of restaurants we want to “knock up”, including a steak house and an Italian eatery, both of which are, from hearsay, amazing. Tomorrow I am going to shower, go get some food somewhere down Connecticut Avenue, then maybe read some more from “Simply Christian” at Dupont Circle. When my dad gets out of his conference meeting, we’re going to go to The Mall and explore some of the monuments in the setting sun. I’m definitely taking my camera. We’ll probably grab food on the way back (looking at monuments in the dark doesn’t sound too invigorating to either of us).

Dylan and Tyler came over yesterday, and we went to Guitar Center and Borders before returning home to make some prank phone calls to friends and watch an episode of "NCIS." I spent the rest of the night watching more episodes of NCIS before finally going to bed around 1:00 a.m. (the earliest I've gone to bed in a long time, excluding my few days of being sick). Today I pulled out my spring clothes--shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops--to celebrate the arrival of momentary warm weather. We ate out at Olive Garden for Ams' birthday: fantastic mussels! I do enjoy Seafood. I've eaten so much seafood in the last month: two visits to Red Lobster and then mussels today, and toss in some random shrimp from Lone Star and some seafood from a Chinese restaurant. I need to go to Maine and eat lobster right off the boat. Wow, that would be nice. But I'm stuck in stupid Ohio.

Tomorrow I leave for Washington, D.C. I'm pretty excited.

I've been reading N.T. Wright's "Simply Christian." Everyone should read it, I think. It's almost as amazing as Dallas Willard's "The Divine Conspiracy." Some theologians have been calling N.T. Wright's work "the next Mere Christianity".

I realize that I stopped midway through my exploration of salvation. Expect that to restart soon. Also expect my book review of "Do You Want To Be Healed" to begin soon, chapter-by-chapter. I want to use my blog as a study for books I'm reading, writing little summaries, reviews, and quotations from each chapter on my blog weekly. I'm going to use a controversial book next: "Your Best Life Now" by Joel Olsteen. My aunt really likes him, so I'm going to see what I like and dislike about his book before I rain down condemnation ("Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover").

Some friends and I went to see the movie "300" on Saturday, but it was so good that I went to see it again this afternoon :). I can't tell you how fantastic the movie is. Maybe it's the digital effects ("Sin City" caught my eye), maybe it's the great acting (the actor playing King Leonidas is fantastic), or maybe it's just that it's about an ancient battle (I love ancient history, especially ancient military history; countless books of this nature occupy my shelves). Whatever the reason, I find this movie very enjoyable. I'm definitely buying it when it comes out, and I'm listening to the soundtrack on my computer right now (purchased with birthday money from my grandparents).

My spring break has gone pretty well so far. Saturday I was still a little sick, so I just lied around and watched television most of the day. I woke up around 10:00 on Sunday, but I felt sick so I did not go to church. I felt better later on, so I went to Starbucks and hammered out a few pages on my new novel. Amanda and Tom were there, and Megan and Jackie stopped by. I sat and talked with them for a while, then continued my writing. Amanda's English teacher wants me to come and speak in front of the class about creative writing; I told her I'd love to do it. There's something to look forward to.

On Wednesday I am leaving for Washington, D.C. I plan on spending most of the time to write, and I also want to walk The Mall and visit a few museums. I'll take a lot of pictures, and I might post some on here if they're any good. We'll see what happens. I'm looking forward to the plane ride; hopefully I have a window-seat, those are the best.

Here's a screen-shot from the movie. The actors play their roles with an amazing ferocity:

Mom sent me this picture over email, wishing me a happy twentieth birthday. I really like it :). My birthday went pretty well: one easy class, followed by lunch with Trista, then Nate and I went to Clifton by U.C. to visit a coffee house, drink coffee, and chat things up. Trista, Courtney and I went for a random drive that lasted about an hour, laughing without cause the entire way. Candace and I went to Barnes & Nobles, then Jessica and Monica joined us for a fun time at Applebee's.

I finally started work on a book I've been wanting to write for a while. Chapter One clocked out in its rough draft at around 50 pages; I'm really excited, because the sequencing and dialogue are authentic and genuine: they smack of realism. The book should be pretty long; it's my most complicated one yet. I might turn it into a trilogy. Who knows? I am going to spend a lot of time working on it this week. It feels really great to get back to writing.

Sadly, I woke up Friday morning feeling absolutely horrible. I puked all over the place and spent the rest of the day in bed. I'm feeling much better now, but I'm not at 100% yet. If I make any sudden movements, my stomach begins to church and bubble. I'm going to get as much sleep as possible tonight to aid the healing process.

Over the past few months, I gained 40 pounds. I am confident that this is because of all the depression: I became apathetic and simply did not care about my weight. Now, however, I want to return to a healthy lifestyle (and that includes finally purging smoking; that's going to be hard).

I found this pretty cool testimony online that is really encouraging to me. Check it out here.

While I don’t want to go into detail, something happened today that made me realize that there is hope for me. Swimming the great ocean of manic-depression is a constant battle; it often feels as if I’m leaping hurdles around a track without time to stop for breath, take a quick break for my legs, or even get a sip of water. At times it is tempting to give up and drown under the waves, embracing resignation, but when those moments seem to be on the threshold, something happens—an event, a memory, a thought, a comforting word. Are these designed by God, whispers of His heart into mine, propelling me on the race of endurance? Is it God encouraging, “Don’t give up, Anthony. I have so much in store for you. But you have to be patient and wait.”? I don’t have any answers. All I know is that in my darkest hours, there are moments when fuel sparks my engine, and my arms carry me through the tossing, turning waves with a renewed energy. Something of this sort took place today, and a refined energy runs through me. There is a shore in the distance, and though I cannot see it, I continue to swim, trusting God in His promise that a golden shore ripe with coconuts and palm trees and whispering white sands await me.

I have been doing a lot of thinking and praying lately, and I believe much of the pain that I feel regarding those past relationships—especially the one with Julie—stems not from me still liking Julie (for if she came crawling back to me, I would not take her back), but from a root of bitterness within me. During the months of initial suffering, I erected a wall of bitterness towards some people involved in the ordeal, and now this bitterness is consuming me. It paralyzes me, suffocates me, strangles me. It is literally killing me inside-out. A bitterness has been draped over my life like a veil, turning everything dark and gloomy. “How do I rid of this bitterness? How do I come to true forgiveness and escape? How do I truly leave this behind me?” I cannot move on until the bitterness is gone. I want to forgive very badly, but I struggle with this concept so much.

I just thought of something: through all of this, God has really been teaching me a lot about myself. Hmmm… Each day it seems like He shows me something else about me or something else in my life that needs to change. A friend told me, “Maybe Satan is throwing all of this at you because you’re on the verge of something great, and he doesn’t want you to experience it.” Well, God has a tendency to take Satan’s attacks and turn them out for good (Satan may be clever, but God is even more clever). So while Satan is attacking me, God is working on me. It’s quite counterproductive for the enemy.

While I was working, Caleb came in and could tell that something was wrong. He can tell when the manic-depressive states hit; something in my face and eyes change. Monica notices it, too; she said, "The other day, at the table, you were smiling... but the rest of your body language wasn't." He asked me what was wrong, and I told him, "I feel so ashamed of myself. I feel rotten and dirty and worthless." Caleb asked why I felt this way. I told him, "I look at my life, and I see all the changes I need to make. I'm bitter towards people, I'm selfish and greedy, I'm a dick sometimes. I want to be a man of integrity. A godly man. But it's like it's so... intangible." On top of all this, the fact that I'm taking medicine for manic-depression sometimes makes me feel "lower" than other people, like I'm subhuman or something, and that sucks.

I actually wrote yesterday's post sometime last week. Yesterday itself was quite enjoyable. I got to spend lots of quality time with many friends whom I haven't hung out with in a while: Monica, Jessica, A.J., Candace, and Rochelle to name a few. We played volleyball, a few card games, hung out in the coffee shop, then went to Applebee's for dinner.

Trista and I hung out, too. She said something really interesting: "There is a time of mourning we go through when things happen that we don't like, but there comes a time when we just need to accept the past and embrace the future. Sometimes we become so accustomed to mourning that it becomes a lifestyle. We mourn to mourn." Does that make sense? It makes sense to me, and in all honesty, it's rather humbling. Am I mourning just to mourn? Sure, I have issues on my plate that I need to deal with. But is what happened with Sonja, Julie, and Jessica something that should consume me? Or am I letting it consume me for ulterior reasons, such as the attention and love it gets me from other people? These are blunt questions I must ask myself, and I must give blunt answers.

I've done a lot of thinking lately, and it really is time for me to pick up my bags and walk out of those relationships. Sonja, Julie, and Jessica have walked out... I'm still standing at the door, knocking, waiting for a reply, even though I know no replies are coming. I can sit out on the stoop, hang my head low, and wait for a miracle... Or I can embrace reality and believe that things will get better... But before they do, I have to get off that stoop. I have to abandon the stoop of self-pity, walking into a mysterious world where I don't know what's around each corner. It's a scary thought; part of me wants to remain behind in these broken relationships, holding onto everything I can. But at the same time, I hear the tender whispers of God: "I have better for you. But you won't experience the better things I have for you if you sit here in this rut. You need to get out." He's offering me a hand, offering to help me out. I'm not alone.

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok
But that's not what gets me

I’ve had lots of time this week to get off campus and drive around. I’ve been all over: Eden Park, U.C., Newport and Covington. I’ve gone downtown and perused the streets beside the stadiums. Last night I lied awake listening to the thunder coming in through the open window. Some days are easy, some days are hard. Sometimes the smiles and the laughter is real, but sometimes it is something surreal, a mask I wear to hide the feelings and emotions, everything going on within me. It’s on these random drives throughout the Cincinnati area and lying wide-awake at night despite exhaustion that the pain becomes the worst. It’s when the memories assault me, blanketing my every move. A knot forms in my throat and tears well up in my eyes.

What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do

This is the pain: for all my life, I’ve been a “hopeless romantic.” I remember standing on the deck outside my home last summer and explaining it to her this way: “I don’t want sex or making out. I just want someone to talk with, someone to hold close, a girl who doesn’t shiver at my sight but draws close. Do you know how much it hurts to see girls awkwardly pull away from you? Do you know how many times my friends have been hugged by girls—even at church—but the same girls ignore me, give me the cold shoulder, or at least stomach their uneasiness and give me a gentle handshake? It kills me. I want a girl to find comfort in my arms, but I don’t think it will ever come. When she cries, I want to hold her. When I cry, I want her to hold me. I am a romantic shunned, looking around and seeing sex-mongers, cheating the romance out of girls, leaving them hollow, slutty shells. The rape of all good and true. I want a girl so badly, a genuine and authentic, loving and cherished, a beautiful and captivating girl to find refuge in my arms, to cry no more. I want to go to candlelit dinners, to hold her by a fire, to feed off her warmth under the stars, to whisper in her ear, ‘It will be okay.’” I paused a moment, then said, “Why is it so elusive?”

When the semester came, I met a great girl. I told Caleb, “She’s the most wonderful, beautiful, amazing girl I have ever met!” We talked for a while and started dating. She was everything I’d always wanted in a girl. She was the first girl I’ve ever loved. Yes. I loved her. Sometimes I wonder if I still love her. I remember thinking, “I’m going to marry this girl.” That thought thrilled me. How could God grant me such grace? I wondered. And the day I fell to my knees and thanked God for answering my prayers, she told me, “I’ve lost my feelings for you.” She was heartbroken because of the break-up, but her tears have dried up. Mine continue to flow. My heart aches all the time. It’s so painful, being so close to my dream, having so much to say to her—“I love you. I want to be with you forever. I want to build a family with you.”—and then watching her walk away, watching the relationship shatter. I wonder what I did wrong, how I messed up. I am furious at myself for my mistakes. I made mistakes, yes, but I loved that girl. I didn’t know what I was doing, I was trying to be the good boyfriend, but I was flying blind. As I visit the haunts where we had spent time together, my mind carries me to wild yet uncontrollable conjectures: “What could I have done better? How could I have shown my love to her better? Maybe then it would have worked out. Maybe then life would be beautiful.”

It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I'm doin' It
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin' with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken

Everywhere I go, I walk down the dark streets where memories dwell. I stumble upon their dwelling-places and they creep into my mind. It’s a difficult battle: fighting off the emotions, the feelings, the questions, the doubts… A struggle against the pain. It’s hard to smile when I see her with my friends: it returns to me the memories when we were all together and everything was great, and I smile and act happy but inside, I am dying. I go about my daily routine—getting up, getting dressed—but regret haunts me. “Why couldn’t I have been everything she wanted? Why couldn’t I make her happy? Why couldn’t I be the boy she wanted me to be? How come I wasn’t adequate enough for her?” I wish I would have begged her to try and work through the problems. I wish I could have told her, “I love you,” and heard her whisper it back. But that’s not how it worked out. That’s not how it’s going to work out.