the revolution.

I wish there was no such thing as romance.

No, really. I am so over it.

Girl meets boy. Boy likes girl. Boy and girl date. Girl falls in love. Boy rips girl’s heart out. And life seriously feels like it’s over. For a LONG. DAMN. TIME.

“Moving on” is such a ridiculous thing to think about. Like, “Oh, yeah, let me find ANOTHER one of those things. I can’t wait to have my heart crushed again.” Thanks, but no. I’ve finally got to a point where I’m not heartbroken, and I’m enjoying it too much to go look for a new person to mistakenly trust and be destroyed by.

I’m on the edge of the “jaded” cliff, dangling my toes over the precipice. One more time, and I’ll fall over.

I don’t want to fall over. I want to still believe in my heart that romance is magical, that love is real. I see friends and family getting engaged, and married, and I think it must be real. So I’m not looking for someone to take that away from me. I’ve seen people lose their faith in love…and it’s sad seeing someone so broken. When people look at me, I want them to see strength. I want them to see passion and fire for life. Being jaded would take all of that away.

I just went through a seriously horrific year. Nothing truly awful happened (other than my dog passing away, which shook me up pretty hard), but I was still nursing heartbreak wounds…still fighting the black beast of Depression, whose visit I didn't even seen coming this time. I withdrew into my “safe” shell, shut people out who cared about me. And I missed out on living because of it.

Sometime in November, I knocked Depression over the head hard enough to knock it out. It didn't die. It will never die. But I plan on taking advantage of its slumber this time. I am free. I will live like I am free.

I know that the New Year doesn't really mean anything. It’s just a way of keeping track of the time. But this New Year holds a promise for me that 2014 never did. A promise of joy—despite the harshness of life’s circumstances. A promise of peace that transcends all understanding. A promise of love.

Perhaps 2014 held that promise as well, but I squandered it. I wasn't in a place to recognize it, to receive the gifts I’ve been given. So now, as 2015 begins, I will take hold of the life that I am called to. This year will not break me as the last did.

The truth is, I love the symbolism of the New Year. Starting over. A sense of expectancy. Apprehension and anxiety, too, if I’m being honest. But I am hopeful. My heart is content.

And that is why, this year, I will not run around with my heart on a silver platter, offering it to candidates who seem worthy. I won’t let someone simply taste what I have to offer and then decide they prefer something different. I am worth more than that.

I was created as a whole human being. I was not separated from my “other half,” and forced to wander the world alone until the halves can be molded back together. It has always been just me. And I am not alone, even when I am, physically. The Spirit sustains me and gives me life. The Spirit eases the loneliness of the flesh.

In 2015, I am clean. I am new. I am free. And I am ready for what this year has to offer.

If romance is to come my way, it will be the last romance I ever experience, one way or another. So God, if you have something in the way of lovey-dovey junk in store for me, you’re going to have to knock me in the head and speak it over me loud and clear—or I will NOT grab hold of it. My heart is open enough to hear you, but I won’t hear anyone else.

I’m tired of being consumed by the thought of finding someone to be mine. There is SO much more to life than romance! So if my family would stop asking me about my love life every time they see me, and instead ask me about my LIFE, that’d be great. Because this year, I am going to experience some pretty terrific stuff.

For example:

I’m going to travel a bit! Going to a wedding in Washington State in the late summer/early fall (can’t remember which…forgive me, Kylie! Haha). I’m also planning a trip to New Orleans at some point….maybe April? Just for funsies, because I’ve never been and I want a friggin beignet.

I also have started a network marketing venture that I am super stoked about—selling Kyani, which includes some of the best products I’ve ever used, with a team made up of some really wonderful friends. It’d be pretty cool to make some money this year—so I can travel and be selfish. HA. Not really. I want to do some pretty big things for my community, and the world. Ask me about them later, because that would be a blog post all on its own.

I am in the process of acting in my very first paid gig! It’s a film called Wonderkind—I’ll let all of you know when it’s finished and available for viewing, because though my part is pretty small, I still want everyone I know to see it.

I’ve also recently become acquainted with the Theatre scene here in Dallas—I’ve met a ton of really awesome, talented people, and I am now beyond ready to be back on a stage. That’ll happen this year. And you’re all invited to come watch. Unless it’s really horrible, in which case I will warn you.

I’m going to read a lot more this year, instead of binge-watching anime and Netflix. I’m sure to find some new worlds to geek out about, so be prepared to hear all about them.

I’m going to explore my city. I've lived here for over two years, and still haven’t seen half of it. So much to do…and I’ll make the time to do it.

So, to all you people questioning my lack of romantic partner, STOP. That is not the end-all-be-all of life. My worth is not dictated by my relationship status on Facebook. It’ll happen when it happens, but I’m not waiting around. I'VE GOT STUFF TO DO.

I saw someone’s post about how they weren't making a New Year’s Resolution, so much as they were having a New Year’s Revolution. It might sound cheesy, but I really like that thought. I’m going to revolutionize the way I see life, and the way I live it out.

Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Fifteen—I’m ready for you.

You’d better be ready for me.

if you must fall in love with me.

If you must fall in love with me, let it be for the right reasons.

Don’t fall in love with me because of my outward beauty.

If I am beautiful, it will not be so forever. How many more years will I have until the beauty fades?

Right now, my hair is thick and shiny. My skin is smooth. My eyes are bright. My figure slim. But if you fall in love with those things, eventually I will disappoint you. Perhaps gradually you will notice my hair turning grey, or wrinkles outlining my eyes and mouth, or skin that doesn't quite hold as firm as it once did. Or maybe you will notice all at once--you'll wake up one day and realize that I am not the one you fell in love with. If your love is attached to my beauty, will you still love me when the source of your love has faded? I don’t think you will.

If you must fall in love with me, fall in love with my brain.

I’ve got a lot of things going on up there. I’m smart. I’m witty. I’m curious and outspoken. I express opinions. I problem-solve.

I have so many ideas about so many random things—fixing, building, changing the world. Some of my ideas are quite ridiculous, but the ingenious ones exist, as well. And the ridiculous ones, if nothing else, are good for a laugh.

I can do math in my head, and have a vocabulary that would put many modern authors to shame.

I read everything. Books, articles, magazines, even road signs.  

I figure things out for myself, instead of just believing what I’m told.

And I know that I’m not always right, but I know you’re not always right, either.

If you must fall in love with me, fall in love with my heart.

I cry during animal shelter commercials and daddy-daughter dances at weddings.

I also cry during baptisms. Every. Single. Time.

When people hurt, I hurt. When hate permeates the world, my soul cries out for those affected, and I will do everything in my power to turn that hate into love.

Fewer things in this world give me greater joy than seeing my niece and nephew’s faces when they open presents at Christmas, or feeling their arms wrap around my neck when they hug me.

Hugs in general…those are my favorite.

If one wish of mine could be granted, I would choose that every single person in the world would experience the love of Christ—a love that brings light and hope and peace beyond all understanding, even in the midst of seemingly absolute darkness.

If you must fall in love with me, please realize that I am flawed.

I am insecure.

I am sometimes very much a coward.

I am astoundingly selfish, and independent to a fault.

Also, I’m pigeon-toed.

If you must fall in love with me, know that loving me won’t always be easy.

I won’t let my walls down for just anyone. I won’t trust you right away.

I can be the biggest brat in the world at times. I’ll huff and puff and pout if I don’t get my way.

I have misophonia, which means you have to be really, REALLY careful when eating or chewing gum around me. And seriously……just say “no” to clicky-pens.

I’ll correct you when you’re wrong about something…and sometimes I forget to be kind about it.

I might push you away at times, because I’m scared of being hurt again.

If you must fall in love with me, know that I will never love you more than I love my God.

If that thought disappoints you, you are the wrong kind of man for me. 

God is my source of air when I'm drowning in this world. I will always seek Him first.

So, even if it seems like I love you too much...know you're still number two.

If you must fall in love with me, know that I am constantly changing.

Not in the core of my being....not in my identity. But my thoughts change. New opinions form. I don't even come close to knowing everything--but I learn new things all the time that change me.

I might not always want to dance and sing and go out and travel everywhere--okay, actually, I don't see the wanderlust fading--but I will always want and need love.

If you must fall in love with me, fall in love with the qualities that will not disappear with the passage of time. 

Take any beauty you might see as a temporary bonus, for it does not represent my true self.

If you must fall in love with me, fall in love with me hard.

And if you must fall in love with me, I beg you to never change your mind.

it is time.

I don’t want to do anything.

And that, right there, is how I know it’s time for something to change.

There are different stages of depression—or at least, different stages in my depression. It begins with feeling insecure. Insecure about everything—my looks, my friends, my relationship with God, my job, the place I live…

And during this stage, I am attacked by thoughts like, “I’m not good enough,” “I’m going to be alone forever,” “My friends aren’t really my friends,” etc.

Then I start to get ideas. Ideas on how I can fix these feelings, on how I can feel better about myself. I think, “I’ll feel better if I can just get my own apartment. I’m probably feeling this way because I feel like a squatter,” or “If I go to more social events, I’ll feel better. I just need to have more fun!” or “If I just get my finances in order, I’ll stop stressing and worrying so much.” or, the ever-persistent “If I just had a boyfriend, I’d stop feeling so lonely.”

During this stage, I wear myself out completely. I try, and try, and try some more, and even when I achieve the things I seek, I feel empty. Alone. Life feels meaningless. I am suddenly tired all the time, or even actually sick. My body starts to hurt. I have almost constant nausea.

After that, I find myself in the stage that I am currently experiencing.

Complete and utter apathy.

I don’t want to strive for anything, because obviously it’s not going to change what’s going on inside of me. I hate waking up in the morning, not necessarily because I’m still tired, but because I have absolutely nothing to look forward to during my day. I sometimes force myself to be social, but really feel no joy, even surrounded by people I love, doing things that I usually think are fun.

I don’t want to live.

Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want to die, either. I haven’t experienced suicidal thoughts since accepting Christ, and I don’t think those will ever come back.

I only mean that I have no fire. There’s absolutely nothing that really, truly gets me excited or impassioned. I’ll wake up, get dressed, go to work, eat sometimes, rinse, repeat. But I don’t want to do anything outside of what keeps my heart beating and my lungs working.

So that’s me right now. A walking corpse.

And let me be perfectly clear, in case there is any confusion on the subject—I am actively pursuing the Lord right now. I am in the Word daily. I pray constantly. I’ve prayed for God to “fix” me…and he hasn’t. Not yet.

So what does that mean?

In the past, I would’ve thought I was doing something wrong. That I wasn’t really, truly pursuing a relationship with God—because God wouldn’t let me hurt this way. Someone actually once told me that it was impossible to be a true Christian and suffer from depression.

I’m calling bullshit on that one. The older I get, the more I start to understand the demon that is Depression. And while I fully believe that my God is capable of kicking its ass…I also believe that sometimes, he’s going to let me fight it. He hasn’t left me. He says in his word that he will NEVER do that. He will be the one who ultimately heals me, but I think that he wants me to find some strength of my own.

And maybe….just maybe, someday I will be able to help someone who is going through this same hell. Maybe that’s the reason I’m supposed to suffer like this. Maybe that person will need to see the proof that this disease can be fought, and conquered.

So now, I am praying for the desire to fight it. I need to want to struggle my way through the thick sludge that it seems I’m constantly wading in. I need to want to be stronger.

Right now, though……man. I don’t want to do anything.

So, maybe right now I’m the one who needs someone to listen…to understand, and to give counsel. Perhaps, though it terrifies me to the point of actual, full-blown panic attacks, it’s time to actually get some “help.”

I’m not ashamed of it. Now, that’s interesting. Because I always thought I would be.

I’m not, though. I’m just finally admitting that I, the manically independent, I-don’t-need-anyone queen, need some help.

Though I’d much rather lay in my bed and think of nothing, I’ll go see someone who will make me think of everything.

In the wise words of Rafiki, "It is time."

AND, if you want to help me, please pray for me. Love me. Talk to me. But I swear to chocolate if you try to preach at me, or tell me that I just need to “change” my way of thinking or something stupid like that……well. I haven’t decided what I’ll do yet. But please just don’t be an ass.

the purge.

Can I just say…and you can consider this my way of grabbing your attention—Depression can kiss my ASS.

I am so sick of feeling this way. A lot of people, mostly people who have never dealt with this, won’t understand. Every time I say I’m going through depression, there is at least one person who asks the question:

“Why?”

I don’t know why. All I know is that there is this—thing—that lives in my thoughts, that is mostly docile. Mostly quiet. But very dark. And the darkness grows sometimes, until the thing is no longer docile, but fierce and cruel. And suddenly every waking moment is consumed with a burning desire to cease to be. Not in an I-want-to-kill myself way…but I want to take everything that is me, everything that is Erin, and change it. I don’t want to look, speak, think, walk, be anything like myself anymore.

The thoughts of unworthiness come rushing in. I start to think I’m not only ugly on the outside, but hideous on the inside. I start questioning why anyone would ever see anything good in me at all. I want to scrape out my insides and start over completely from scratch, because this version of myself has only ever achieved pain and loneliness.

God, I’m lonely. In every way possible. While I don’t speak exclusively of loneliness in the romantic sense—Yeah! I’m lonely in that way! I’m tired of having to pretend that I don’t care about male companionship when I very much do! I miss having someone to hug and kiss whenever I wanted. I miss getting text messages that just say “You’re beautiful” or “I love you.” IT FELT NICE. Being single is not this giant party that people say it’s supposed to be. I will pretend that it is, but I’m so OVER being labeled as the “single” girl. I have friends who actually call me their “single friend!” I’m not going to just jump at any guy who wants to be my boyfriend, but I’m going to be honest…I’m ready for a relationship again.

Cue the “When you stop looking, he’ll come along!” comments. Oi. That’s STUPID. I’m not going to stop looking. I’m not going to stop caring, especially when my dreams are plagued by memories of love so vivid that I can almost actually feel them. I was created to be loved, designed to be cherished, and sweet merciful heavens, I’m GOOD at loving (I mean that in no suggestive way, so all my smart-ass friends can hold your tongues.)! I mean that I am caring, and compassionate, and I try to be understanding, even when an opinion differs completely from my own. I want the absolute best for those that I love, and will do whatever is in my power to make the best happen for them, no questions asked.

Anyway. I didn’t mean for this to be a Single Girl Rant. That’s not what I intended to write. At all. But sometimes……my words just get away from me.

What I really wanted to write about was loneliness, in a broader sense.

The dictionary defines loneliness as: “a depressing feeling of being alone.”

HAHAHA. It’s true! That’s what it is. But there’s more to it than that. Because if you think about the word, “alone,” well…there are so many different levels to it. You can be alone, as in—the only person in a room. No big deal. You can be alone in the sense of being single (which you have already heard about in excess). Or you can be really alone.

I wonder if any of you already know what I’m talking about.

Alone. Being completely without anyone. The kind of alone that doesn’t go away, even when you’re surrounded by your friends, laughing and dancing and doing whatever else. It’s the suffocating kind of alone. Thinking that no one understands you fully. Knows you fully. Loves you fully. Or even cares about you at all.

The kind of alone that makes you crave actual, physical loneliness, because when you’re surrounded by people you feel like an unwelcome outsider, and that’s worse than actually being by yourself in a literal sense.

Sometimes, I feel like God created “extras.” Ones who weren’t really important to him, but sort of helped to fill out the scenery here on Earth. And I feel like one of them.

I know it isn’t true. I know that God created me with love…a love too deep to put adequate words to. I know that he formed me with precision—that he purposefully put every quirk in its place.

I know all this. But it is not easy to connect that knowledge with an actual belief.

Because the place in my mind where I actually believe things…the place where knowledge deepens into understanding and peace…that place is the same place that the Darkness resides. And any time I start to feel too good about myself, the Darkness lifts its head, sniffs the air, tracks down each morsel of joy and devours them whole.

I serve a big God. And he has delivered me from this before. He will deliver me again. I wholeheartedly believe it.

But right now, this sucks.

I can only hope that one day I’ll be stronger for it.

Yeah. I will be stronger for it. And maybe there are others who are going through the same thing, and they’ll see me get stronger and think “I can get stronger, too!” And then their lives will have hope, and my life won’t feel empty and NONE of us—ever—will feel like “extras” again.

It’s so strange…I started writing tonight, and my heart was so heavy. I cried as I began, and continued crying until about halfway through. And then I realized that what I was doing was actually helping. It’s as though typing these words out somehow relieved the pressure in my heart, and I can breathe again.

The more I re-read the words “Yeah. I will be stronger for it,” the more I believe them. Tonight started out looking incredibly bleak…but I think I can go to sleep with a lighter heart, having purged everything like this.

I’m gonna post this now. And let me be perfectly clear—I AM NOT desperate. So take all my single girl rants and raves with a grain of salt. I will not jump at the chance to date just anyone, least of all your second cousin Billy Roy Jim Bob who owns a bait shop in Beaumont. I’m sure he’s very nice, but I’m praying for the right one to come alone, mmkay?

Right One, if you’re reading, stop dilly-dallying around and get on over here.

…….Sometimes, I am irrefutably Texan.

Thank you, and good night.

wasted.

“Follow your dreams.”

“Do what you love.”

“Find your passion.”

This is just a taste of the things I've heard throughout my life—the way I've been programmed to live out my days.

Recently, I realized that it is this manner of thinking that has made me feel like an absolute failure for the majority of my life.

I always feel restless. I mean, always. I feel as though I've got some giant purpose that I’m supposed to be living out, and I’m not doing it, and I have to be doing it, or my entire life will have been a waste! Right??

I love to perform. I have never felt more at home than when I am on a stage. Singing gives my heart the kind of joy that makes sorrow a memory far-gone. Acting excites me to my core, gives me a kind of energy that is impossible to explain to someone who has never experienced it. When I stand on a stage, and I feel the heat of the lights on my face…when I feel the hushed energy of the audience as I open my mouth to speak, or sing…I belong. I feel out of place in my own skin, yet a stage is home.

I was an English major for a semester in college. I planned on teaching high school English. It was a practical choice, one that would be easily attainable, and provide a relatively comfortable lifestyle. But, dear God, I was so bored. It took six weeks for me to realize that this was not what I wanted—that my “calling” was not to teach children proper grammar, or to grade papers, or to spend my life catering to the state’s educational standards. Nothing against English teachers, or teachers in general—some of my closest friends are teachers, and I have the utmost respect for what they do and believe they are positively brilliant—but it wasn’t for me. My spirit was not at peace in the English department.

When I found Theatre, well…suddenly I was alive. Every inch of my body suddenly woke up and said, “Oh. Finally.”

I honestly didn't know anything about theatre. At my high school, we were only ever offered a chance to participate in One Act Play (a UIL competition which, at least at my school, was a joke compared to doing actual theatre), and while I excelled as an actress, I had no idea the intricacies that were involved in putting together a real production. I had to learn everything technical from scratch. All I had was my natural talent, which was acknowledged quickly by people who then helped me transform it into a real, fulfilling skill.

I don’t know how my parents felt about me pursuing acting at first. When I changed my major, I called my mother and told her. I never asked for permission. I just did it. She supported me, but I often wonder what she and my father were really thinking. Perhaps they thought I was wasting my time even going to college at all. I don’t know.

What I do know is that for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel restless. I had something to do every single day that made me feel like I mattered. I knew the direction I was headed, and I liked it. My years in the theatre program at SFA were the most content I've ever been, purpose-wise.

Fast forward three years. I move to Dallas, Texas. Dallas, with its beautiful skyline and bouncing energy. There is quite a large theatre scene in Dallas, which is something most people don’t know. New auditions pop up weekly. There’s always a new show to go see.

But did I take advantage of any of this? Nope.

I didn’t go on my first audition until I’d been in Dallas for six months. Six.

My next audition after that didn’t happen for another year.

I’ve auditioned a grand total of five times in the two years I’ve been here, a fact that makes me sick to my stomach, quite literally.

I’m not scared of rejection, you know. It comes with the territory of being an actor—even if you’re talented, there is always a chance that the director is looking for someone with a specific quality that you don’t have. It is also has a lot to do with who you know, so until you get “in,” it’s difficult to break through. I understand these things. I accept them. I don’t fear them, and I don’t take them personally.

But it is fear that has been holding me back. And until tonight, I was unable to pinpoint what exactly that fear is about.

It’s not rejection. It’s failure.

There is a difference between the two. Rejection is temporary. Failure…well, that’s a life washed down the drain.

I have put my hopes and my dreams of performing at the forefront of my identity for so long, that the pressure seems to have almost suffocated me.

“This is who I am. I am a performer. Forget anything else about my character that makes me Erin. Performing is it. I have to put all my eggs in that basket, and if it doesn’t work, then I am an absolute waste of space, and all who know me will be disappointed.”

And there it is. I’m not worried about the sting of rejection for myself. I’m worried about disappointing the people who believe in me. I don’t ever want to feel again the way I felt when I heard my father say that he’d be proud of me only when I was actually using my degree.

It’s too much pressure.

I want to perform because I love it. Because there is something within me, something that God put into my being that screams to be onstage.

I don’t want to perform merely because I have a degree in Theatre.

And anyway, my identity is not solely comprised of my love of performing. There are so many things that I am passionate about.

I love people. And I love love. I love to love people, and I think I do that pretty well. My friends mean the world to me, and I hope I show them that. My family is my one earthly constant—the people who I know will always love me, even if they drive me crazy with questioning my marital status, and I drive them crazy with my “bleeding-heart liberal” talk. Meeting new people is one of the most exciting parts of my day—I will often awkwardly blurt out, “Hey, who are you?” by way of introduction. And. I. Love. It.

I adore traveling. If I could travel constantly, I would. My heart longs to discover new places, and experience new things, and I’ve seen more sights than most people my age (at least, that I’ve met). So hey, there’s another thing I do well.

I love writing. I somehow am able to communicate the things I hold in my heart, in my mind--through words. This is a gift that most people (I am learning) do not have. The keyboard of my computer is another home for me, though it is one I don’t visit enough.

I actually enjoy my day job. Heaven forbid an actor actually enjoy the work that they’re supposed to do simply to sustain themselves! I like it. Accounting isn’t exciting, but I’m good at it. And the people I work with are phenomenal.

I am passionate about my church. My young adult ministry has brought me some of the best friends anyone could ever ask for, and I absolutely love serving in any capacity. I don’t do it out of some sense of obligation. I do it because I sincerely believe in what our ministry stands for. And I love the people (heyyy, there’s a theme).

I love my Jesus. I am finally getting to a place where I am hungry for His word, thirsty for His love…and jumping at the chance to share that love with other people. I am seeking him wholeheartedly, and honestly, that is where the biggest part of my identity lies. I am a child of the One True King, and there is nothing I could do to make him less proud of me.

So, I haven’t been on a stage—an actual, theatrical stage—in nearly two and a half years.

It’s stupid. But I know the reason now.

I plan on chasing the dreams that I’ve been called to. I am going to go to those auditions, no matter how sick I get beforehand. Because I’m not going to let that fear rule me.

But before I do, you should know—I am NOT any less of a person for having waited this long. My life is not a waste. Not a single second of it has been wasted.

I’m living. And I love to live. Regardless of whether I have a real acting career, or pursue acting as a hobby while working in the accounting department for my company, I am living fully.

God gives me a purpose, gives my life meaning, every single day.

I’m not apologizing anymore, especially for something as insignificant as not using my degree.

I am following my passions, and it doesn’t matter to me whether you—other people—see it or not.

I see it.

And I won’t hate myself anymore.

a spark of madness.

Yesterday evening, I heard the news that Robin Williams had passed away.

He was truly a brilliant actor, in comedies and dramas alike—and the stage and screen will certainly miss him. He was gifted in a way that few actors are…it was like breathing to him. His art came from his soul, and everyone could see that, I think.

I grew up with Robin Williams. I think of movies like Mrs. Doubtfire, and Patch Adams, and of course Hook, with fondness. I am even more fond of his voice work—no one could’ve done Genie better (which I think we discovered when they tried someone else in Return of Jafar….WORST IDEA EVER), and Batty from Ferngully is one of the most enjoyable characters I have ever seen in a movie. He was just. So. Stupid. Talented.

I have never been so rocked by the death of a celebrity.

And honestly, it doesn’t have as much to do with the genius that the world lost, as much as it does the reasons that we lost him.

Depression is real. I think that a lot of people forget that. Depression is real, and it is a nightmare for those who experience it. It is not something that you can just “fix,” no matter how many different medications you try, or how many therapists you see. I have battled it for the greater part of my life, and even though I’m in a good spot at the moment—depression is still there.

I don’t know what Robin went through in his own mind, but here’s a look into mine, dealing with depression.

No one loves me.

No one ever will love me.

If someone ever does decide to love me, I won’t be worthy of it.

I am so alone.

No one understands, and no one wants to understand.

I add absolutely nothing of value to anyone’s life.

If I was gone, no one would really care.

Maybe they’d be sad for a little while…but they’d move on. And be better off without me.

No one wants to hear about my problems. I’ll just put a smile on.

If I get vulnerable, people will be annoyed.

My friends probably would rather hang out with someone else.

I am a disappointment to everyone.

God’s love doesn’t apply to me. I’m too unlovable.

If I ran my car into that guardrail, I wonder what would happen...

If I “accidentally” fall on this knife, how much of a mess will I make?

If I hold my breath for a long enough amount of time, will I die?

I’m too tired to exist.

I’d rather sleep and experience dream-world, than face the reality of being awake.

Does anybody actually like me, or care?

I wonder if people who commit suicide actually do go to Hell.

I’m not important enough for God to use me.

I’m not important enough to God for my dreams to be fulfilled.

I’m hurting…but I can’t tell anyone, because they’ll ask me why.

I don’t know why.

Let me be completely clear—I am no longer suicidal. Many of the thoughts I just typed out are thoughts I haven’t had for years. And, even when I experienced suicidal thoughts back in the day, I never acted on them. As I said before, I’m in a pretty good spot right now.

But what’s strange about being in a good spot, and knowing that I have depression, is that I’m constantly wondering how much longer I have until my next break. Until the next time I find myself lying in bed, not wanting to speak to anyone, yet wanting to speak with everyone…feeling trapped in a nightmare of my own making, with no conceivable way out.

When I sing, I feel free from all of it. All there is, is my voice, and my God, and the universe…there is solace in music as there is solace in nothing else.

When I act, when I make people laugh, or I make people cry, I suddenly feel like everything raging inside of me is brought under control. Again, I am free. I can be whatever or whomever I want—because I have a choice in the emotions I portray. Standing on a stage, I can affect people. I can bring them joy. I can bring them pain. I can bring them hope. I am a part of something. I am important.

Robin Williams was a performer, too. I don’t know if he felt the same things that I feel about performing, but I like to think that he did. I think of him as a sort of kindred soul, because, though I have never battled with addiction as he did, I do know what it’s like to suffer from something that you can’t control, and use art as an outlet.

I am wrecked by his death, but I am also strengthened by it. I don’t want to lose my own battle. Depression will always be there, sleeping in the corner of my mind. It will wake, and torment me, and then fall asleep again. And I won’t lose to it. I can’t be defeated by it. No matter the lies that manifest in my mind.

There are millions of people fighting the same thing. You probably have them in your life. Be there for them. Talk to them when they might not want to talk. Love them, when they feel like they can’t be loved.

Don’t pass them off to medications that do more damage than good, at times. Meds can only give people so much. Be a friend. Let them know their worth. Don’t be afraid to say “I love you,” or “I need you.” It might be the difference between life and death.

I’m sure Robin Williams had people who told him they loved him…people who hugged him, and kissed him, and laughed with him. And it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, it won’t be enough.

But you can try, okay? We can all try.

“No matter what anyone tells you, words and ideas can change the world.”

John Keating (Robin Williams) – Dead Poets Society

what a year can do.

Earlier this week, I reached the first anniversary of something pretty huge. I’m not going to go into detail about what that particular event was, but reaching this anniversary has made me all kinds of pensive. Like, I’ve been thinking a lot. Thinking about where/who I was a year ago…and how different things are today.

The past year has been the most self-discoveratory (which is not a word, but I’m making it one… -ive? I’m not sure which I like better) of my entire life. I know things about myself that I always wondered about…things about my God that I never fully believed to be true. I am not the same person that I was last year. And so I’d like to document all the things that I now know.

Things that I’ve learned in the past year:

#1: I Can Fall In Love, and When I Do, I Fall Really Crazy Hard

I was so in love last year, that I didn’t know down from up. Until this happened, I always thought I would never be able to open myself up to someone in that way. I thought I’d be unable to fully commit.

Well. I committed. I committed so hard that when my heart was inevitably broken, I was actually physically ill. We’re talking chest pains, vomiting, loss of appetite, insomnia…..if it hadn’t been for some really excellent friends, I (in all seriousness) don’t think I would’ve survived.

Someone (I don’t know who) once said:

“It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.”

Yeah…that’s me. I loved so deeply and so fully that, once the blessing of it was over, the curse nearly killed me.

#2: I am Maniacally Independent, For All the Wrong Reasons

I was on a date with this guy one time, and he told me that I seemed like I didn’t need anyone. “You seem like you’re just fine on your own,” he said.

The more I think about this, the more evidence of it I see in my life. I do everything on my own. I never ask for help, unless the situation is truly dire.

But this isn’t because I don’t want help. This is because I don’t think that people really care enough to want to help me. And I don’t want to be an inconvenience to anyone.  I want people to be happy, and I think so little of myself that I think people won’t be happy if they’re helping me.

That’s right. I’m independent because I am insecure. Isn’t that ridiculous?! I take everything on by myself, act like I don’t care that I’m single, shrug my shoulders and act like it’s no big deal that I’ve got four thousand tasks to accomplish on my own. Because I don’t think I’m worthy of people’s help, or people’s love.

Holy shit. Quite the realization, huh?

#3: I Always Say I Don’t Want a Family, But That is a Big, Fat Lie

When people talk about having kids, I always cringe and make a big deal about how it would destroy my body, and I’m way too selfish to be a mom, and childbirth is a horrific experience, blah blah blah.

Nope. Turns out I want kids. Not right this second, but someday… I want kids bad. But I’m so scared that no one will ever want to have kids with me that I say I don’t want them…so that maybe one day I’ll actually believe I don’t want them. I think, “In my entire life, only one guy has ever really pursued me, and he changed his mind. So maybe I’m not meant to start a family with anyone.”

The thought of that desire not being fulfilled is so painful that I’ve tried to squash the want.

Now, for the stuff that is less woe-is-me and more whoa-is-God.

#4: God Loves Me. …No, Like, For Serious

I’m not going to spout out a lot of scripture in this post. I think the “God loves me” verses are great—don’t get me wrong—but I’ve known those scriptures my whole life, and I didn’t really start to believe that God loved me until I actually started experiencing it.

The trouble is…I don’t really know how to put this into words. Bear with me.

I have physically felt my Father’s arms wrap around me. I have been flooded with the peace that transcends all understanding—that I thought I already knew, but recently experienced at a much deeper level. I have endless joy, that could come from no other source but Him. I. Feel. Loved. Not because I get everything that I want (I don’t come anywhere close to getting everything I want), but because of the supernatural state of awesome that my heart is currently resting in.

Scripture has come to life in my heart.

#5: I Am Called to Love in Bigger Ways Than I Can Even Imagine

For the past nine months or so, I have been blessed to be a part of a documentary project called Compelling Love. In the film, we are taking a look at sexual identity differences, and trying to figure out how to connect—really connect—with people that we radically disagree with.

Through listening to the personal stories of people from all over the country, I have begun to really see people as people. The people in the world that I can’t stand the thought of being around…they have favorite colors. Favorite foods. Dreams and ambitions in life. I tend to dehumanize them but…They. Are. Human. And if I am to meet people where they are, as Jesus met us, how DARE I put distance between myself and the “others” because of a different view on something?

God has shown me what it means to love His children. All of His children. And He is continuing to show me. I’m not done learning this concept.

I am so excited about it that I can’t even stand it.

#6: God’s Timing is Perfect, and There’s Nothing I Can Do About It

I’m sure everyone can relate to this, but I’ve always been incredibly frustrated by the fact that nothing seems to happen in my life when I want it to happen. And I get even more frustrated when people say, “It’s all in God’s timing.” This incredibly stupid and selfish part of my brain wants to scream, “But what about MY timing?!”

Well, as it turns out, God created the world, and He created all of us. And he has a Kingdom plan, that my life is only a part of. And He knows what the heck He’s doing, so I just need to buckle my seatbelt and hang on for the ride.

I was sent on a mission trip to Mexico days after having my heart broken last year. If I had been the one planning my life, I would’ve timed that completely differently. But as it turns out, I needed to be hurting while I was in Mexico. It’s strange to say that, but such healing and growth happened on that trip, and it couldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been broken.

I keep getting a lot of “not yets” from God. And I’m starting to be okay with that, because I’m actually starting to trust Him.

Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will grant you the desires of your heart.

People misinterpret this verse often…it doesn’t mean that I am going to get everything that I want out of this life. It means that if my delight is in my Lord, then my desires will be from my Lord. And he grants the things he promises. Always. Because His promises are for His own Glory.

#7: Satan Only Has Power When I Don’t Fight Him

The other night, I stood in the shower after a rather difficult day, emotionally. As the water fell over me, I thought about how much I wished I were someone else. With someone else’s life. And then a voice in my head said, “You’re not worthy of a life like that.”

This wasn’t the first time that this voice had plagued me. My whole life, every day, it’s been:

“No one will ever love you.”

“Your friends don’t even like you.”

“You mean absolutely nothing to God.”

“You only think you’re following God. But you’re not. You’re a hypocrite.”

And the list goes on. But for some reason, standing there in the shower, hearing that voice that time, something clicked into place. I said, out loud, “That is NOT the voice of my God. In the name of Jesus, I command you to leave me ALONE.”

It seems corny…but this stuff is real. And as soon as I said it, my head felt lighter. Tension released in my neck. Perfect peace. And I haven’t heard that voice since.

Satan will attack again, at some point, I’m sure. But I know how to fight him. And I’m not going to let his voice dictate how I feel about myself, my God, or my life.

#8: I Am Flawed, But Holy Bananas I’m Beautiful

The things I mentioned earlier that I’ve learned about myself…Well, they don’t really make me look awesome. I trust that God is working on my heart, to change the things that need to be changed.

But also…God made me this way. I am freaking beautiful.

I don’t come anywhere close to fitting the world’s standard of beauty. But I don’t want to fit that standard. I want to fit the standard of another world—the world that I truly belong to. My God’s world.

That’s what kind of beauty I’m striving for.

I’m accepting the things that I’ve always wished I could change about myself. I’m embracing them.

I’m a nerd. Really, though. I love fantasy fiction, and anime, and learning languages, and I like doing random math problems just for fun. When I was a kid, I used to play on the computer for hours…on Microsoft Excel. I love video games—the RPG kind. I am completely fascinated by astronomy (I’d love to own a telescope). I get legitimately excited when I learn a new word in the English language (callipygous—look it up).

I am much taller than the average girl, with giant feet, joints that could land me in the circus, and an eye condition that makes people think I’m cross-eyed. And I’m pigeon-toed. I can lick my elbow—which apparently no human is supposed to be able to do. And I cannot roll my tongue.

I have brown eyes and skin that is not very clear. And I’m severely lacking in the curve department.

I am completely mad about the arts. Music, Theatre, Dance, Photography, Painting…ALL OF IT. And I absolutely hate things that guys wish girls were into: sports (with the exceptions of baseball and soccer), hunting, fishing, and getting dirty in general.

I don’t like listening to The Killers, Metallica, Kings of Leon, or Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I adore Frank Sinatra (and the rest of the Rat Pack), Norah Jones, Queen, and countless bands that no one has ever heard of (You really should look up The Classic Crime).

All these things I just listed are things I have wished, at one point or another, that I could change about myself. But not anymore. I like these things. I like who they make me. I think I’m pretty damn interesting, and anyone who is “turned off” by any of these qualities…well, I don’t need them.

I am Erin, hear me roar. I am done wishing to be someone else. Someone I’m not.

So, folks, there you have it. The past year, in a nutshell (a rather long nutshell, I’m aware. #sorrynotsorry). I’m not done learning. Not done growing. But I am not the lost girl I was a year ago.

And one more thing.

I am going to fall in love again. This message is for “him”:

I’m going to love the hell out of you. You’ll be second in my heart, because my Heavenly Father will always be numero uno, but no one on earth is ever going to make you feel more important than I will. I need you to need God, and seek Him first. But seek me second, because I was created to be needed by someone—so I need you to need me (Cue Cheap Trick song). We are going to have more adventures than you could count, and we’re going to visit all the corners of the earth. It’s gonna be a wild ride, but I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable. Get ready to have your socks thoroughly knocked off.

The End.