A story of my own...

She glides her hands over the keyboard, praying for inspiration. If only she could write one word, one gripping account, maybe people would understand her. Her hand reaches into the box of crackers, knowing that she will regret this decision like so many others. 5’7 and weighing 140 pounds is fat. She’s been fat for so long, and workouts paralleled with calorie counting didn’t help. She’s stress eating again. The last few weeks have taken a turn backwards. She was doing so well… Life was putting itself back in order and now it’s as if all those weeks in counseling and the medication were in vain. She has failed again.

She makes a list of people in her head to blame. If only her roommate would do her own dishes, if only her best friend hadn’t moved to the other side of the country, if only God lived up to all those promises, maybe her life wouldn’t be so close to ruin. It made the most sense to blame God. Since day one, she grew up poor and never satisfied. Her needs were barely met, and even today, 21.5 years later, her needs still aren’t met. God promises to reward those who are faithful to Him, but she is learning otherwise. Her parents have been involved in ministry for 30 years, and even last night they could not buy a meal to share. She vows to never live like that. And she vows to never put her trust in a God that has pushed her own family through hell for so much time.

Her mind remembers the empty bottle of toothpaste. All she needs is three dollars, but it doesn’t exist. Just once, it would be nice to buy the necessities and not over-draw her account. Her friends are going out tonight, and she will have to ask her friend to loan her the cash. She just doesn’t have four bucks in her pocket, or anywhere. It’s humiliating, and she’s tired of it.

When she graduated high school, she had great anticipation for what college would bring: a good education, fun weekends, a better understanding of God, and most of all, deep relationships with fellow students. Now as she enters her last year, she cries over the fact that none of this has happened. Is one good friend really too much to ask for? Now she is thousands of dollars in debt for a four-year journey through hell. It has not been a choice safari to say the least.

And she is losing her best friend. This has happened quite a few times in her lifetime. Her family moved a lot because, well, ministry tears apart families and friendships. Her heart has been strewn over so many conversations because one person has never stayed around long enough to really know her. And now he’s leaving. It’s almost funny how expected this is. He’s the only one who really knows her these days. There are no secrets between them. Sure, she hates him sometimes for his lack of attention abilities and his communication issues, but she loves him, even after all this time. But he will be gone soon, and she will be back to nothing, no one.

A psychology major herself, she snickers as new psychoses are revealed in the corners of her mind. Glancing around the room, nothing out of place to the regular eye, she notices a paper crooked on the desk. Obsessive-compulsive already. Her great-grandmother suffered under this disease, and now it seems it has entered her generation. Depression tested positive in counseling this last semester. And the night terrors, the screaming, the hallucinations, the apnea, oh those just add to the misery of hating being awake but dreading the nighttime.

This girl sits with the door closed because she is keeping people out, although all that she really wants is some good company. The silence threatens to burst her eardrum. The clock is a constant reminder of her inability to sleep and that he still didn’t call tonight.

It’s difficult to stay positive now, even though that used to be one of her gifts. But who can blame her? Her friend stabbed her heartlessly in the back this weekend and is now blaming her, the innocent one, for the fact that their friendship is dying. Just one person would make all the difference, but she’s alone, again, with no one who cares enough to listen. Even he wouldn’t take the time to listen.

Her thoughts drift again to the horrifying temptation within her. She would never do it, ever, and it scares her to even write it. Suicide is a cop out, but it sure looks more glorious now than it ever has before. She wishes she were dead, just not at her own hand.

She can’t fall asleep. Two weeks at home, and with the exception of backaches in the morning, her sleep was consistently normal. Now, the first night back to reality, she lays in bed awake. So many thoughts rush through her head, some repeatedly because she can’t solve them in this quiet noise. The music in the background does nothing to console her because she’s alone again anyway. It’s always like that here.

He let her down again. Even last night he said, "I want you to trust me," but he makes it impossible. Little promises that he doesn’t follow through with are the ones that break her heart the most. It isn’t that hard to remember to call her back! But to him, sleep, the other phone call, the television, it was all more important than keeping his word. That’s what caused them to end it six months ago but she is still holding out for change. But he won’t; she knows that people can’t change. 1am and she still waits for her phone to ring, but it won’t.

Back to reality, back to class. She will work 24 hours in the next two days. The hours continue to tick by as the night seeps through her curtains. Please God, just a few hours of peace. But He doesn’t listen either; He hasn’t for some time now. What is she holding on to? What is still pushing her to wake up in the mornings, sleep deprived and emotionally drawn?

So she lays in bed, asking herself that very thing. And the hours tick by, and the music plays in the background, and she waits, for sleep, for the phone to ring, for really anything at all other than this.