“I think I caught a glimpse of a life without friends;
bitter, empty, hollow, dark, and lonely…Oh, we need each other through all the
highs and lows, and no one’s meant to be alone.”- Sanctus Real
Independence has always been a strong trait of mine, or so I thought until I got to college. However, even though I’m only 1 hour and 40 minutes away from my family, I’m learning just how much I need other people close to me. I truly can’t make it on my own, and I’m finding that’s okay.
Once upon a time, I was twelve years old. That summer I got involved in a missions training program called the Missionaries for America Program, not knowing that it would be what got me through my difficult early teenage years. I existed from MAP event to MAP event. I think the reason I’ve always loved it so much is because there’s a sense of welcome and belonging I get when I’m with those people. There’s an amazing power in community, in bonds between souls, and it’s a healing experience to worship God with people who love you. I was truly happy living with my closest friends for 3 weeks in the summer, singing hymns in our free time and opening up to each other in ways I had never known before. Going home was something I dreaded.
I remember going home to my dysfunctional family time after time, feeling an overwhelming sense of isolation and loneliness. It nearly always developed into a stage of depression during which my mother would criticize me for what she called my bad attitude, but I never questioned whether it was worth it. It was more than worth it every time, if only to get away for a while.
You know, it’s amazing how things change. Ever since my oldest sister started college when I was 8 years old, I’ve looked forward to going away to college because I hated life at home. For a while, I wanted to go to a private university in California, and even that didn’t seem far enough away from Arkansas and my parents. These days, though, I can’t imagine a place I’d rather be than home. I love my parents as much as I love anyone, and I’m thankful that we’ve healed together. I’m glad we learned to get along before I left home, before it was too late to make good memories of living with them, before I finished growing up in their home. My last year of high school was so different from the rest, and I can’t express how much those memories mean to me. Looking back on even my most recent bout with depression isn’t entirely unpleasant. I’m thankful for it, because for the first time I can remember, my parents responded to it with concern and love rather than disapproval and criticism. They lit the way to walk me out of my dark valley and I love them for that.
College has not been an easy transition after such a recent realization of love for my home, but I’m learning to appreciate things here, too. Instead of pining for home, for my family and books and warm fireplace, I’ve been trying to love the people around me, and they make it pretty easy. It isn’t difficult to be happy while sitting in a coffee shop, blogging, and listening to music with two of my closest friends. Tonight has been a respite from the familiar feeling of emptiness I’ve been fighting these past few weeks, but I know I’m not alone no matter where I go. I have friends here who love me, who support me in whatever I do because they care enough to know who I am. It isn’t every day you find friends like mine, and I’m so thankful I get to spend the next 4 years with them.
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