I put myself on storm watch the first day of june. A single day hung over me for months, menacing and dark as an oncoming storm. I knew it was the same for everyone, but I wasn’t ready! I tried not to think of it much, pushing it out of my head whenever I could. Even though I would have to face the music soon enough, as my impending destruction crept softly, steadily closer I only grew increasingly desperate to cling to what I knew, to tightly harbor the things dearest to me in my heart. I never wanted to let them go. It was continually there, haunting me, threateningly, and then, with a gust strong enough to topple Stonehenge.
As the car pulled onto the freeway and picked up speed, I couldn’t hold back the tears that had been taunting me with increasing ruthlessness all summer. I had about an hour ’till you things became alien to me, and four ’till I would see only fields and water towers. Finally, my life was meeting its end, and in twelve hours I would have nothing left of what I was leaving behind. I slept through the four painful hours and was woken just a half hour before we reached my exile. The last dregs of hope evaporated at the sight of the apartment complex, but I wouldn’t cry in front of my parents. When they left, I let the despondency govern me and I broke into sobs.
I couldn’t feel anything for the following days, like my mind had shut itself off. I felt numb most of the time. I was mechanical, repeating mom’s words: “Take it one day at a time, angel, one day at a time.” Just one step at a time. Mess up- ignore the blunder. Trip- pretend not to notice. Meet people- pretend to have it together. I was miserably numb for a while, just stumbling through daily routines. It was an empty state of being, and college homework made me want to retreat further into my shell. I told myself it was pointless, and life was destined to darken as I floundered.
Days into my depressive state, a ray of light tore through my dark shroud. It was in Music 100, and it sent a simple reminder. Hey, stupid, remember that little thing called music? I’d been wallowing in pity, and told myself there was no hope for me in such a high-responsibility environment. When I attended Humanities, I began to think about things. My brain shuddered awake. The light got a little brighter; I wasn’t numb now… I was hopping back into function, a struggling human being feeling all the emotions that come with the fight. I was a fool to lose hope. Why had I let it get to me? I got to Religion and received a good spiritual whipping: I’d left God out of my pathetic commiserations completely, and when I got out of class, I was ashamed that I’d let myself forget the reason I exist. God put me here. And even though I had told myself there was no hope for me, there had to be. God wouldn’t invest his time and love in something and then leave it no hope and no chance. When I had forgotten my Savior and my maker, I’d put off my armor, and the adversary had stolen my hope. It was time to turn to Him and make a change.
When my family called me for the first time, I was able to hold myself together enough to convince them I was fine. I figured they didn’t need to stress over my over reaction. I’d learned from myself. Life is full of tempests, and they seem impossible to weather. After I woke up, I knew I’d improve with time, and with an affluence of prayer, I might just get through a semester of college… Thanks to my family, friends, kind roommates, teachers, and especially my Heavenly Father, I believe in Hope.
“What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.”