Consumed

And so begins our first day of "Our Journeys in the Dark." This author's article will be a three-part series ending on Wednesday. 

The following article is written by one of my closest friends. Hilary Armstrong was there for me during my darkest times, when I was a total leech! I leaned on her and needed her. I don't think I would be a healthy person today without her support during those times. She is also a Christian. So this article is her story of how God found her and worked with her in a way that was unique and personal to who she was. It is inspiring to me how she has learned that her unique way of communicating with God is ok. It is also inspiring to see the confidence she has in who God created her to be. Actually seeing her stubbornness and strong-willed personality has allowed me to be ok with my own very similar personality, instead of trying to be a meek and mild person. Hilary may God bless you for your courage and vulnerability!

"Despite growing up in a decent sized Christian community, with a large extended family, good people and support all around me, I still never really understood the things about life that make it purposeful until I was 20.  At 20 years old, I was a sophomore at Bethel College. I was pursuing Secondary English Education and I was on the Women’s Soccer team as the Goal Keeper.

Underneath all of that, I was rooming with my best friend at the time who had decided that we were too close and needed distance.  I was also cutting (If you’re not sure what cutting is, my short explanation is: self-harm, usually in the form of a surface cut on the forearm performed with scissors or anything small and sharp for the purpose of short term relief from stress, tension, anxiety, feelings of inadequacy, failure or pressure.  It is addictive, like smoking.).

Also, while playing soccer that year, I had broken my wrist.  This injury was not known (though I had gone to a doctor) and it was affecting my athletic performance and causing me a great deal of pain.  I was the only goal keeper that year and felt under an enormous amount of pressure. 

  

I was immersed in an atmosphere where Christ was supposed to be good, loving and gentle.  He was supposed to be the most exciting and nourishing part of everyone’s life and going to Him in prayer, or at Chapel, or at church, or by reading the Bible was supposed to ease all fears and answer all questions.  Nothing was supposed to be too hard because He was there.  Nothing was supposed to be too difficult either, because He would help.  I remember staring in amazement at the people around me, not understanding how they could live the lies they were living... and then fearing that they were not living lies... that it was me.  I was the one, the only one, who wasn’t doing anything right.  I remember clearly crying out to God, asking if He could hear me.  I wanted to scream at Him.  I wanted to shake Him.  I felt so alone, but more than that, I felt ashamed.  I was convinced that I could do nothing correctly.  And I was cutting.  And I was being manipulated and, essentially dropped by my best friend.  And my wrist was broken.  And I couldn’t do my job on the soccer team.... And then, my sister attempted suicide. 

           

As I am writing this, I am looking at all of these factors that were influencing my life at the time and it looks horrible.  It looks like a swamp of a life.  And it was.  It was even worse than I describe.  Yet, I don’t describe all of these things to lead up to a justification of what happened.  I don’t pile all of these horrible events and emotions to sway my reader into believing that, even at the worst moments, Christ will come through.  I lived through those “worst moments” and survived.  I came out on the other end just the same as I was when I went through them; miserable. 

And yet, something did happen at the end of that school year.  I believe that it happened then because I’m a human.  I’m full of ignorance and self-importance and, perhaps like many humans, I needed that amount of abandonment and desperation in order to give up my life, my control and my wits in order to believe that there is something that’s bigger than me.  I’m not clever; maybe more people realize that there are a lot of things bigger than themselves... things that can control them, break them, influence them... like water; like stone and air.  

Thoughts of inadequacy and failure constantly raced through my head that year.  I had so many negative, manipulative influences in my life shouting these messages at me.  My solution was cutting.  I know everyone has these influences or lies in their life at one time or another.  Many people don’t deal with these horrible things by cutting; cutting is fairly unique and scary.  However, most people do something.  It’s easy to see what it is sometimes.  Sometimes it’s difficult to understand, but I have learned that almost everyone has something.  Which is frightening, but also just normal.

I was alone again sometime that year in February.  I was walking around outside to escape my dorm and my bed where I could not sleep.  I wanted to cut, knew I shouldn’t, but couldn’t think of anything else I wanted to do more.  I decided to go to my RD, Laura, and talk to her.  It was her job to try and “mentor” me or “be there” for me or something like that.  And, I knew that if I “tried” to go to her (but she didn’t respond because she didn’t hear me knock on her door (which is what I was hoping would happen)) then I wouldn’t be held as accountable for my cutting as I normally was.  I knocked, she heard me."

 

(To be continued tomorrow. See "Consumed" Part 2)