The Best Year Yet...So Many Thoughts.

So I was doing the typical bored internet junkie thing and stalking myself on Facebook... You know the drill. You accept a friend request and then go scan your own profile to see what your new buddy will see when they do the inevitable new friend stalking. It's okay, we all do it.

I turned 21 a week ago, so lots of the stuff on my profile was birthday wishes. The most recent one, and therefore the first one I saw just now, ran along the lines of, "I hope this is your best year yet!"

Which of course got me thinking just like everything does.

My best year yet. Being human and prone to violent bouts of depression, when I think back on my life, I usually remember the bad more than the good. In fact, I have thus far categorized my college experience by what tragedy has befallen me in each semester.

Semester 1: Concussion and sexual assault.
Semester 2: Admitted to a psych ward for suicidal tendencies.
Semester 3: Parents divorce is announced.
Semester 4: I take 23 hours and contract extreme exhaustion.

But honestly, we could categorize my entire life that way.

Senior year of high school: My best friend attempts suicide multiple times. Completely unrelated, I begin to cut myself on a regular basis.
Junior year: I get an extreme ankle sprain which causes me to completely reevaluate the rest of my life.
Sophomore year; I attempt to cut for the first time.
Freshman year: My guinea pig, who has sadly been my best friend for five years, dies after a few months of insanity.

Shall we go back even further?

Middle school/junior high: I realize something is wrong with me, but don't label it as depression, anxiety, or PTSD. What middle schooler does?
Some time before 3rd grade: I am sexually abused and tell no one, because I do not understand.

When laid out like this, my life looks like total shit.

Why do these things have to be the first things that come to my mind when people talk about my life? When I think about the future? I look back at my finished semesters and I don't think, "Let's make the next better." I think, "What will go wrong this time?" "How much worse will it be?" "Will I make it through this one?"

Why the hell does it take so much thought to remember the good things that happened each of those years?

Semester 1: I make friends. I find a solid Christian base with RUF at my university.
Semester 2: I finally am put on medication, which is not something to be ashamed of. I start my book club.
Semester 3: I move into an apartment. I cook real food for myself for the first time, and it tastes good.
Semester 4: I get the boasting rights of having taken 23 hours and survived. I get a job as an English tutor. I finally make Repertory Dance Company at my university.
Summer semester: I become engaged to the love of my life and my best friend. I get a cat.

It is my curse that I always think of the bad things before the good, that I have to think very hard to remember all the good things that have happened to me and that I myself have accomplished. But maybe, in some twisted way, it is a blessing as well. At least, I try to see it that way.

If I'm honest, then I will admit that it has been anything but a blessing to me personally in the last few weeks. I have been practically lifeless with an overwhelming burden of depression. It has been a struggle to get out of bed every day, to make myself go to a class that I enjoy, to pick up a book and read it, to invest the slightest amount of attention in anything. This kind of behavior, if left unchecked, always leads me to something worse. If it weren't for my cat's presence, for the knowledge that if I were gone he would be completely on his own, I probably would be back in the psych ward because of some very bad ideas trickling through my head. It is incredibly sad that it is only my cat's dependence on me that has kept it from becoming as bad as it was back in freshman year.

And people say cats are useless.

For all the trouble little Palmer gives me, all the love bites and scratches and insane nightly terrorist activity, he really was sent by God. This poor little furball who arrive with his little hiney shaved after being neutered, a big mysterious wound on his neck and smaller one on his tail. A slightly crooked nose and mouth that leads to drooling and free tongue. Dirty ears. A slightly gimpy foot. Separation anxiety and a ridiculous love of eating shoes. That's my buddy Palmer.

Sorry, I got distracted by my darling little kitty cat, who just happened to have jumped up into my arms for a thirty second nap before going ballisto and trying to eat my arm. Typical.

As is often the case, I write all this to sort out thoughts that have been drifting through my head all summer. I always get bored in the summer, and boredom always leads to depression which leads me to reminiscing about the bad old days which leads me to assuming there will be nothing better in my future. Writing all this reminds me that life has not been totally craptastic to me. And even if it had been, that's no reason to assume that it will continue to be so.

I will publish this on my blog, but I doubt I will share it to Facebook and all the social media that so rules our lives these days. I have explicitly stated several things that beforehand I have only alluded to. There are maybe three people on this earth who know about a lot of this stuff. I'm all for honesty and testimonies and stuff like that. I'm not really ashamed of any of this. I know a lot of it isn't even my fault. The thing that gets me is the aftermath of a confession.

People talking to me about it. Asking questions about it.

These are perfectly normal responses. And on the average day I don't mind it. I enjoy it, even. As much as I hate attention and talking about myself, sometimes it is important. Sometimes it makes a difference.

But sometimes I just don't want to add to the misery of the world, y'know? I don't want people who have been through crap and know I've been through crap to realize I've been through more crap than I've let on. I just don't want to add to all the crap. Y'know?

You feel me?

If you're reading this, don't feel scared to talk to me about it even though I basically just said I didn't want to. The worst response you'll get is, "I don't want to talk about it right now, let's go drown our sorrows in coffee and then maybe we'll see."

But if this adds to the crap you see in the world, please oh please oh please don't let it. Don't be like me, who only remembers the bad. There is good, I promise. Don't let anything dampen your good memories and your hope and determination for the future. Even if it gets worse, it will still get better.

Now I'm going to stop this ridiculously long ramble and watch some more Star Trek and maybe sleep a bit before a filming I have tomorrow. I'm going to hug my cat and not worry about rent or homework or my student bill.

I'm just going to be okay for one night.

--Dexter

ps. I'm not adding colors to this post. Sue me. Imagine your own colors. Whatever. I've got a cat to hug.

Change

Lately, my life has been incredibly topsy turvy. True, I made it through sophomore year, which in the dance department is well known as the roughest year ever. I made it through though, and with decent grades. But that doesn't exactly mean life has been easy since then.

As many know, my dad lost his job a year ago and since then my family has gone through a steady decrease in money. To add to it, only a few months later my dad left my mom. This has made life rough. My mom and my siblings moved to a new house that was more affordable and my mom works several jobs. They get by just fine, but I can't rely on them and I can't ask them for help when it comes to money, no matter how much they want to help. So I try not to ask or even mention my own problems.

But I'm pretty damn poor. I was going to take some classes over the summer, but had to drop out of half of them because I can't afford them. I'm still enrolled in one, but if I don't get a job soon I will be living, well, frugally, to say the least. I still have to pay rent and buy groceries and pay for my medication and a whole bunch of stuff.

So life has been pretty dismal in my eyes lately. Not only has all that stuff been going on, but since school let out, I've had nothing to do. Don't me wrong, I'm loving the break. Sleep all day, play all my games, read my books, it's great. But I'm an active creature, no matter how much I love to be stationary. If I don't have enough to do, I start to go crazy. I end up with nothing to do but think, which means I'll think about how much life sucks, because that's just what happens when you have major depression. You don't sit there contemplating sunshine and rainbows.

So, yeah. I've been majorly depressed recently. My relationship with God has been on the wayside, and even though I acknowledge that, I haven't done a whole lot to fix it. But despite this... God still cares about me. I can't believe how much He cares about me. In such a dark time of my life, He suddenly sent me such a HUGE care package of love.

The other day I was at book club (best thing ever) at T-Bones, and we were sitting around waiting for some late members. I turn to look and who should I see but THE CAPTAIN. No, he's not in book club. Yes, he lives three hours away from me. No, I was not expecting him at all.

"What are you doing here??" I started to ask, but just as the words left my mouth he was down on one knee, a little black box in hand, smiling like the sun.

"Sarah Dexter Givens," he said.

"Why are you here??" I was still asking the same question.

"Sarah Dexter Givens," he continued, "Will you marry me?"

"How did you know I was here?" I was really caught up in that. He was laughing and smiling and I'm not sure what I was doing besides asking the same damn question over and over again.

"Will you just answer my question?" He asked finally, still laughing.

"Of course!" I answered. "But how did you know I was here?"

"Will you take the ring?"

"I don't know how!" Ladies, if you feel like you're an awkward person, know that you will not magically become suave when this moment comes. "I've never done this before!"

"I'm glad!" He took the ring out of the box and started to put it on my finger.

"Wait! Which hand is it? Is it this one? I don't know!" I turned to my friends for help, who were laughing and grinning just like The Captain. One of them told us, and The Captain slid the ring on my finger.

At this point I just leaned over and buried my face in a hug, because everyone was looking at me and I was very happy but also very self conscious and I just wanted to hug him more than anything. It was awkward. It was beautiful.

That same day, I got called for a phone interview at a job that opens up in June and a friend told me about another job that would be open in just a few days, where she could probably tell me exactly what I needed to do to have a good chance. A few days later (today), I got notified of another job (my dream job) and I have an in-person interview in just a few hours (I'm crazy nervous). Then I got an email requesting another phone interview for another job I applied for a few weeks ago.

I swear, if none of these jobs work out, I'm going to scream.

But anyway. It has been a magical couple of days. God sent me blessing after blessing and joy after joy. This is a heck of a lot of change in my life, and I absolutely hate change. I don't adapt well. But sometimes change is necessary, and I'm glad it's happening. Dare I say it, I think I'm ready for it.

I don't know, we'll see.

--Dexter

PS. THE CAPTAIN IS MY BETROTHED!! :D :D :D :D

Shoutout to all you Beautiful Lonely People

Hey you.

You are beautiful and you are loved and you are amazing.

Yes, you.

I say this to myself, and I say this to every single person who ever reads this, and I say this to every single person who never reads this. Because it's true.

It has now been a year since I was released from the loony bin. And y'know what, I'm still in this world. My life's no basket of bunnies but it sure ain't a cardboard box of roaches either if you know what I mean.

I bet a lot of you people are struggling just as much if not more than I am. And it is important that you know that YOU are pretty damn amazing. If I can go a year without ending up back in the psych ward, then I bet you can.

Things that inspire me to keep going:
All the books I have not read yet.
All my favorite books I want to reread.
All the friends I have not met yet.
All the friends who don't realize how much I love them.
All the places I have not gotten to visit yet.
All the notebooks I have not filled.
All the music I have not listened to.
All the music I have not played.
All the dances I have not danced.
All the kitchen utensils I have not played with.
All the My Little Pony episodes that have not come out yet.
All the pain that God will bring that will make me stronger.

It's gonna be okay. I don't believe this all the time, but I believe it now.

This is a letter to myself in the future, on a bad day. This is my letter to you, on any day you need it.

--Dexter

Scheduling.

I am alive. Busy, but alive.

I am in my second semester as a sophomore. Dance major. English minor. Honor's college. English tutor. Book club president. Member of the Repertory Dance Company.

I am taking 23 hours this semester. 9 classes. I have 10 hours of company rehearsals each week. I currently have 4 hours of tutoring each week. Somehow I find time to go to book club once a week and (sort of) read for it as well. I average 2.5 cups of coffee a day and 5 hours of sleep a night, though both of these figures vary depending on the day.

One of my roommates I have not seen since the first day of the semester. One of my roommates I have spoken to maybe twice since the beginning of the semester. My other roommate I see more on campus than in the apartment. I am never here.

I'm busy, but alive. After this semester, I will know that I can make it through just about anything.

If I make it through of course...

--Dexter