On A Sidewalk to Nowhere
A Head Full of Doubt and a Road Full of Promise
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This is why I hug people.
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Me, Anne Jackson, Kickstarter, and You
When I was 19 years old, I met a girl named Anne Jackson. At the time, I was in a college that I hated, and working at a job that I was kind of starting to hate also. I was very stressed, I was very sad, and I was starting to realize that I really had no idea what to do with my life. I had always had very specific plans and ideas for my life, and those were quickly crumbling.
In the middle of all the chaos that was building up within me, I went to see a panel of Christian bloggers speak as part of Catalyst Atlanta. I had never heard of Anne before that night, but hearing her speak changed me. I remember listening to her speak about her experience with depression, and thinking, “That is exactly how I feel. That is exactly what is going on within me.”
As Anne spoke that night, I sat in a room full of strangers and wept. No one had ever before pinpointed my feelings so precisely. Further, no one had ever articulated to me that it was okay for me to have those feelings. In one evening, she removed the stigma that I had placed upon myself for not being able to pull myself up by my bootstraps, the way I felt that I should. I believe that hearing her speak gave me impetus to change my trajectory. I sought out a therapist (though I didn’t ultimately see her very long) and changed my major; and when the timing was right, I quit my job and found a new school to attend.
After the three panelists spoke that night, there was a time of prayer, and the audience was given the opportunity to pray with the panelists and several other leaders that were part of the service. Having been moved so deeply by Anne’s words, I walked down the aisle, and asked if she would pray with me. We talked for a few minutes first, and I told her about my life, my school, my job, my volunteer work. I told her that almost every morning, I woke up and didn’t want to get out of bed. I told her that she had put into words so many things that I wanted to say. Then, she prayed for me. While I don’t remember the words that she prayed, I remember feeling a sense of solace, knowing that I was no longer alone in my struggle.
That was about two years ago, and since that time, I haven’t had the opportunity to talk with Anne again, but I have read her books and her blog, been encouraged by her, and cried with her. Although I don’t know her personally, I feel like she is my friend. She was there for me, praying for me and comforting me when I was in a somber place in my life, and now, I have the opportunity to be there for her.
The last few months have been rocky ones for Anne, and after an absence from vocational writing and speaking, she is now raising money so that she can return to the vocation through which she has been able to touch people like me. She’s raising this money through a Kickstarter campaign, which you can donate to here, and I would love it if you would do so. Anne’s words have been pivotal to my journey, and I believe that she should have the opportunity to continue to create them. Thank you so much if you decide to donate. I believe that you are giving Anne the opportunity to continue to help change lives, in the same way she has helped me change mine.
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Dear Self,
Stop over-analyzing every second of your life.
It is not helpful.
Ever.Love,
Amanda Mae -
(Source: whereisthecoool)
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Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can’t take the speed it’s moving in
I know I can’t but honestly won’t someone stop this trainSo scared of getting older
I’m only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find away to say that life has just begunHad a talk with my old man
Said help me understand
He said turn 68, you’ll renegotiate
Don’t stop this train
Don’t for a minute change the place you’re in
Don’t think I couldn’t ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we’ll never stop this trainJohn Mayer, “Stop This Train” -
2200
I have over 2200 words of posts sitting in my drafts. But I feel that all of those posts are either too boring to post, or too unfinished, and I don’t know what to do with them. Many writers have said that one of the most important parts of writing is knowing when to edit yourself, and I think those 10+ posts sitting in my drafts are an example of me doing that. So hopefully somewhere in the big pile of words I’m not going to publish, there’s the potential for me to write something legitimate someday. And I think that probably, the more that I write, and the more that I realize what really sucks, and what just sort of sucks, and what is actually pretty good, the closer I get to that point. Here’s hoping, anyway.
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It’s the only way to keep that last bit of sanity
Maybe I don’t have to be good, but I can try to be
At least a little better than I’ve been so farThe Avett Brothers, “When I Drink” -
I Guess This Is Growing Up
I often have feelings of inadequacy. I should have graduated college almost a year ago, but I have at least another year to go. I live with my parents. I do little else other than working, going to school, doing homework, and sleeping.
When I was 16, I thought 22 would be the ideal age. I would have graduated from college, and have a great job, and know exactly where my life was going. I was planning to be an awesome youth minister, to have a really cool boyfriend or fiance, and probably be living in Colorado. Now that I am 22, nothing could be further from the truth.
Today, I had to run to wal-mart for work. The cashier was one of my acquaintances from high school. We were never good friends, but we were in a lot of the same classes. She was (is) very smart, made excellent grades, and was generally the kind of person slated for a bright future.
We chatted while she was checking me out, and she’s working, getting her master’s degree because she can’t do anything with her bachelor’s degree, and generally in a pretty similar life place to me. She encouraged me to stay in my undergrad program as long as I can.
While we were talking, I realized that even though I often feel inadequate, I am totally unduly projecting the idea that I am not good enough onto myself. Almost no one with whom I graduated from high school actually has their whole life together, and further, the people with whom I started college aren’t faring much better out in the world. We’re all still drifting, trying to figure out where we fit, and who we are going to be. Everybody else is in almost exactly the same place that I am, and everybody probably feels the same strange mix of hope and frustration that I do.
I guess this is what 22 is supposed to feel like. Anticipation for the future, confusion about the present, a lack of knowledge about what will become of careers and relationships and just about everything else. Based on the mean, I still have 56 years, give or take, to live. (And considering I have great genes for longevity, probably more.) I’ve only been an adult for four years. I do not have to have everything figured out yet. And for that matter, I probably shouldn’t.
Often I have a desire to wrap up my longer blog posts in a tidy bow, and because I don’t really have one clear point here, I don’t have one singular thesis to wrap things up with. But I will say, at this moment, I’m glad to have a lot of change and growth and crazy new things ahead of me. Even if the very idea of not knowing what will come scares the living crap out of me.
"I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page concurrently."
- Donald Miller
