this will probably be edited later.

in early 2008, after much nudging from a friend and neighbor, i decided to go to a church. at the time i barely believed in anything, let alone God. but i said hey, why not. i know they have a good children's program. so erik and i went. i'm not sure i even told chris i had decided to go. i sat near the back, kind of hiding. i didn't really know what to say to people. when it all began, it was something i had never experienced before in a church. words on a screen, a band, production versus kneeling. i didn't stand during the worship time. i just sat and observed. people with eyes closed. people praying. people singing. people with their arms toward the sky, which i did not understand at the time. after a few minutes i started to cry. i'm still not sure why. i cried during worship. i cried during the teaching, which was taught by a pastor new to the church. i just cried during the whole thing, really. i couldn't understand what it was, what emotions i was dealing with. i have a tendency to take an emotion that i experience, turn it over and over, analyze it, wonder why it happened before i can let it go. to this day i can't explain that emotion.
a couple weeks later, chris and the other two boys started coming as well. the kids all really enjoyed the children's program which, at the time, is why we continued to go. chris had a faith background, i really did not. honestly i have had so much go on in my history, in my background, that i had zero reason to believe in any sort of higher power. Why would a loving God put a kid/teenager/young adult/adult through so much constant pain? it made chris uncomfortable, being there, he was used to church of the kneeling variety. we didn't stand during worship. but i observed, continued to watch. it took a while for me to stand. longer for me to sing. i still cried often.
in summer of 2009 (i believe, correct me if i am wrong) our church went on a mission trip to help a needy area of west virginia. chris went with them and worked on the crew of people fixing a roof for a woman's home. during the trip, chris chose to allow God into his heart, into his life. it was an actual visible change when he got back.
after a while i began to wonder, what is wrong with me? why can't i feel like that, why can't i find any kind of faith?
that is when i scheduled pastoral counseling, september of 2009. i still have the original email i sent when i asked for help. i ended up meeting with that pastor i mentioned earlier, the new one. he sat through my story, my whole story. he listened to all my questions, gave me things to seriously think about, gave me answers i didn't even consider. we spent weeks discussing my issues with faith, why i had such a hard time letting go and just accepting God. we had a standing appointment. i processed things and brought what i had thought and felt back to the office, where he was kind enough to help me process further.
in november of 2009, after an amazing service on forgiveness (which again i cried through) i came down to the front and that pastor, after a time, sat down with me. he asked if there was anything i wanted to talk about. we just sat for a few minutes before i told him, while still crying, that i was ready. i felt something while i was sitting in that room, listening to that teaching. and sitting there crying, i had the privilege of having that pastor, who had helped me so much, guide me through accepting Christ into my life. in january of 2010, he was one of the first people chris and i spoke to after mike died. i was back in that office, doing more processing. i can't remember if we still had those standing appointments then, i know we did for a while. in summer of 2010, i was glad to have the two pastors of my church, whom i fully trust, baptize me.
in september of 2010, when i had created a plan to end my life, i remembered a promise i had made to that pastor. and, out of respect, i called him as i promised. both of the pastors were there for me, cleared schedules, made plans with chris and i for me to get help. in january of 2011, when i made an attempt on my own life, that pastor was there, one of the two initial people i saw first, helping make arrangements, making the calls, helping chris and i, my family, again. he was one of the people to come see me while i was in the hospital. occasionally since then we have met up, i've been back in that office, receiving his guidance and counsel.
this pastor became a role model to me. someone i completely trusted (which is difficult for me). he has been a guide, a teacher, a friend through some seriously difficult times in the life of myself and my family. i see him as a mentor of sorts, really. he's tried to give me guidance toward my strengths, no matter how resistant i have been.
so, naturally, when i found out that my mentor was no longer going to be a pastor at my church, i felt like i had been socked in the gut. i started crying in the auditorium, and after a few minutes i couldn't take it and went to sob in the hallway. when i had pulled it together, i went back inside, but i did not sit. i stood in the back and let what i call my "steel wall" drop in front of me. that's what i do when i can't deal with my emotions. i lock them up as best as i can, even though in this case they were pushing back and i was still crying, silently. i felt very silly, just so everyone knows. i watched as dozens of people came and laid hands on him and his family (who are completely wonderful. erik looooves his older daughter, and his wife is fantastic with the teens in the church) for prayer. even though almost every single person there was in the front, i stayed where i was. arms crossed. wall up.
after everything wrapped up, i went down in the front to talk to him. i felt like there were things i wanted and needed to say. he turned to me and said, "so". i tried to speak. i did. but my words dried up. i put my hands up, and i couldn't keep the wall steady anymore. i turned around and walked away, crying, shaking my head, even when he told me to come back. i walked outside for a minute to breathe, then came back in to wait for the people who graciously said they would give me a ride home. he didn't try to talk to me again.
i know that i am being selfish, childish. i should be happy, thrilled for the direction that God has given him and his family. he is going to do God's work, helping those who need him, especially teens. teens who were like me. broken kids with nothing. he asked me once to write some sort of essay on how to talk to teens who struggle with self harm. i'm still not quite sure why he wanted me to do it, but i'd like to think that he will use those words to help someone. to show some soul that there is another choice. maybe he told me to write it because he knows it is something that weighs on my heart, that helping people, teens like me is something i yearn to do. i have no clue. he is going to become a counselor so he can help others in the way he helped me and my family. he has gifts for helping others. i should see that, i should be thrilled for the people that he will help.
but for some reason i can't yet. i almost feel betrayed, which is stupid. maybe it's because it is such a super emotional time for me right now, piling that onto it just caused me to crack. straw, camel's back, you know the story.
tonight in small group it was brought up again. what had happened, what people thought. people were happy. excited for the direction God had given him. things i am supposed to feel. i didn't speak. didn't move. i crossed my arms and put up my wall, staring at a piece of lint on the cushion in front of me instead of looking at anyone's face. i couldn't do it. i still barely want to talk about it. because people think i'm being a brat. selfish, stupid. whatever. that i don't "know them well enough" to be happy for them instead of selfish (yes, this is something that was said).
i told someone after group, without even thinking about it, the words just rolled off of my tongue,
tonight, after everything in the past two months or so, i have nothing. no faith. i feel lost and hollow. empty.
it stunned me for a moment, but it was true. that's how i feel tonight.
for almost two months i have felt knocked down, kicked around, and socked in the gut at every turn. i kept trying, trying, trying to get back up, keep moving, become more. recover. every day since january 18 has been a constant trip downward, into the pit, into the hole, into the muck and mire. i started to find footing as i processed lauren's death. i made my decision to go to treatment, to get the help i desperately need. i want to be better. i do. but it's hard to climb out of the pit when there are no handholds and your feet are slick with dirt. i make a tiny step forward, make plans with people who are modeling recovery, only to be shoved three steps back by an announcement like the one sunday night. the push and pull.
that is how i feel right now. processing, processing, processing. i haven't really spoken to anyone about it. i feel like an idiot, to tell you the truth. like i said earlier, selfish, bratty. stupid.
i know it is the will of God, the calling of God, the direction of God.
i just knew where my direction is.