be not yourself

"be yourself" they say

but how can you?

in a world that wants you to be everything but yourself

a world that is fundamentally superficial

a world that rejects honesty, realness, depth

a world that favours imposters

a world founded on segregation, not connection

i have tried to be myself

and myself i have been

but i have been rejected

more times than my heart can naively handle

by those that have seen the rawest, realest, truest version;

they have all run

disappeared into oblivion

never to be heard from again

be mindful that this rejection is not exclusive to lovers

no, i am referring also to platonic lovers

the platonic lovers we call friends

those lovers that have spoken so highly, revered so deeply, and loved so seemingly wholesomely

yes, friends can reject you too

each time slashing a wound

forming scars on the heart

so many wounds

so many scars

i'm not even sure if any original heart remains

or whether it is composed entirely of hardened scars

so closed and so guarded

in attempt to prevent one more devastating slash

one more devastating rejection.

words of comfort often miss their intention

trying to explain others' actions, to justify their absence

it brings no solace

instead, the feeling of fundamental dysfunctional remains

am i too intense?

am i too deep?

is that why people run?

i know i am both intense and deep, yes

but is anyone ever too anything?

is it not sad to be made to feel

the essence of who you are

is too much?

that your rough edges need to be rounded

to be accepted

to be loved

when our past repeats itself

not just once

nor twice

but so many times you forget the original wounder

you cannot help but internalise

question, why?

why does this keep happening?

what is wrong with me?

the real me?

because only those that have seen it

have never to been seen again.

perhaps it is my fault

for attaching to these people

of whom are impermanent in nature

but what is love without attachment?

they say attachment is rooted in fear

and perhaps that is true

i am afraid that my investment

my time

my love

will lead me back here

in loneliness.

and by loneliness, i do not mean the act of being alone

it is the act of feeling misunderstood

of feeling that your authentic self is too much

of feeling that you

in your rawest, realest version

are still unlovable

but they say it is better to be hated for who you are

than loved for who you are not

and so i wonder if the author of this quote

had not been hated, but rejected

would their words differ?

hate arises in jealousy and is easily understood

rejection though, is complex

it's personal

and it often comes without explanation

and so in its absence

you begin to explain yourself

in which you seemingly conclude

the you in which you are

is not compatible with this world

to continue is to suffer

so instead, be not yourself

for you are too much of anything.

A purposeless life

I’ve been struggling for some time now and it hasn’t been until the past month that I’ve really started to understand the reason why. At first I thought the cause was the election triggering something within me, then I thought it was my heart recovering from an earlier heartbreak, but what I have realised is that although these issues have certainly affected me, they’re not the primary cause. I’m struggling because I feel like I’m living a purposeless life. My life is lacking meaning and as a result I quite frankly feel a little lost.

Throughout my entire life, I have known structure. I would go to school and then to soccer. Soccer was my life; I went to school and worked hard so I could reap the benefits of the sport I revered. Once I graduated from high school, I still had soccer. And at this time, I had a girlfriend too. I never once felt like I was missing something; soccer filled that void. As did my girlfriend. My life was full of purpose and meaning. Looking back, the happiest months of my life were when I had the presence of these two things; soccer and a girlfriend. And there’s a reason for that.

I’m an all-or-nothing person…when it comes to something I love or am passionate about. My brothers used to mock me for this, telling me I should never put all my eggs in one basket because it could destroy me. Although they raise a valid point, that investing all of yourself into one thing can leave you extremely susceptible to being destroyed, it also allows you to feel true elation and happiness. And I have experienced both these phenomenon; true elation and outright destruction. The truth is, I’m not sure I would have it any other way.

Since coming to college, I maintained this structure; school and soccer every day. Soccer to me has always been more than just a form of exercise; it became the best way I knew how to externalise my internal passions. Anyone who has seen me play would agree that I always played with one thing: heart. My college years, my college teammates, much of it was disappointing. I was surrounded by teammates that did not share the same passion, teammates that were merely playing soccer so that it could pay for their college degree, and teammates that saw their collegiate playing years as their final destination in a sport they’ve devoted their lives to. I then had a self-serving coach that frequently put his best interests before the team’s, a coach that feared accountability and change, a coach that slowly made me resent my collegiate years.

Nonetheless, I still had my one thing: soccer. Well, that is when I wasn’t injured. I realise now that when I was injured, I lost more than just the endorphin release and natural buffer against things like depression. I lost my purpose. I lost my structure. And I almost lost my life. After tearing my second ACL my senior year, I wasn’t sure I would ever play again. I began to seek an alternative; coaching. Coaching was great, but it wasn’t the same as playing. Shortly after graduating and in the midst of still rehabbing my knee, I met someone. Given the painful and destructive nature of my relationship earlier in the year, I had reservations. I was guarded. But this girl used her words, and actions (at the start at least), to reassure me. It wasn’t long then, before I was hooked and giving all of myself to her. My life now had purpose again.

What I’ve learned is that in the absence of soccer, I can be okay. But only if I am in a relationship in which I am truly devoted to my partner. And I’ve come to understand that the reason is this: my life’s purpose is to play soccer and to love. These are the only two avenues that I have found I can give my entirety to, that have given my life purpose and meaning. To love wholeheartedly is a beautiful gift and has proven to be as fulfilling as playing soccer has been throughout my life.

Since this relationship ended at the commencement of 2016, I spent much of the year searching. Searching to fill this void. One of my regulars at my restaurant called me out on this some time back in December. He stated that, “The reason you are taking all of these courses (to become a crisis counsellor, a certified peer specialist, and an authentic love course), is because there is something that you are lacking within you. Something you are deeply unhappy with.” These are the kind of conversations I need. I need people to challenge me. Challenges are what cause me to look within myself for answers. Perhaps this conversation is what prompted me to understand my present struggle; my life is lacking meaning. And I am searching for it within these courses, hoping that I might find something that I can give my entirety to. But I haven’t found it. And so here I am, feeling a little lost in what I am doing in this life.

After reading the book The One Thing by Gary Keller back in September, I felt inspired and compelled to determine my life’s purpose. With the assistance of other friends’ input, I concluded that my life’s purpose was to coach others to understand themselves whilst equipping them with skills and confidence to be themselves and overcome adversity. Although this glorious and complex purpose might indeed be my ultimate purpose in life, it is not what is giving my life meaning today. Through my work as a crisis counsellor on Crisis Text Line and my work as a coach/mentor; I do not feel fulfilled. I feel nothing. Empty, actually.

Much of my life I have been told that it is unhealthy to need another human, or to really need anything. But I disagree. I believe it is in our nature to need others and need things and I’m not just referring to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I’m referring to needing purpose. Late last year I also read the book Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, a man that survived the devastating destruction of the holocaust. He writes that he only survived those concentration camps because he gave meaning to his suffering; he had a purpose for surviving. And his purpose was to educate others, to write about his experiences. He developed logotherapy, a therapy based on finding one’s purpose. At first, I felt very little towards this book and was merely reading it for the sake of reading it. But as weeks have gone by, the message derived within Frankl’s words have been gaining significance within my own life.

In terms of needing another, we all need others. Humans need other humans, that is why we are social creatures. I do not necessarily need to be in a relationship to function in life; I can and have survived much of my life being single. What I do need though, is I need a relationship to fulfil a greater purpose within me. And that purpose is to love. To give all of myself to. People might argue, well can you not love your friends with this excess love? The key here is friendS – plural – we cannot give our entire self to multiple people, that’s not possible. Whenever I am not in a relationship, I feel like my life and love is being wasted. I have always felt that I have all this love inside me, yearning to be given to someone else, and when I can’t, I feel unfulfilled. Dissatisfied. I feel like I am merely existing, not living. This insight offers some clarity into my relationship behaviours, about why I cannot jump from relationship to relationship or sleep with just anyone; I cannot love with anything less than all of myself. And so one-night stands have never appealed to me, not because they lack emotional connection, but because they cannot offer fulfilment; they do not satisfy my life’s purpose.

Long story short, I miss soccer. And I miss companionship. I miss the structure soccer provides, the comradery shared amongst teammates, and I miss the purpose it fulfils. I miss giving my all to something or someone. It baffles me that the American system offers nothing beyond college unless you make it pro. But even then, the seasons are so short it’s almost only a temporary fix. I can train all I want by myself, but that’s not the same. Soccer is a team sport. I have struggled since moving to the US because this passion has not been shared nor reciprocated. I frequently hear people exclaim that they can’t wait for the season to be over and it kills me a little inside. What I would give to play again, to have played more than I did, to be playing in that structured, purposeful environment again. But instead I am here, without soccer and without a significant other, feeling lost in what feels like a purposeless life.

But what if you don’t feel God?

Recently it seems that almost every book I read in which the author speaks of personal despair and adversity, God is being referenced. And it kinda infuriates me. Because I can’t relate. I love reading about people’s struggles and how they overcome them, except when they say that “God saved them” or that this is when they found God. That’s where they lose me. I frequently hear about people referencing the lord and the grace in which they find in him; the comfort and safety in knowing he is always there. But what if you don’t feel that? What if, to you, there is no God? Does that not exacerbate those feelings of isolation and loneliness? Because that’s a glimpse of how I feel.

Growing up, I went to a Uniting Church School in which we went to chapel every week. We prayed, we sang songs, and we listened to our peers share their musical talents. And I used to love chapel, for that latter reason and because of the passion of our chaplain. As for the praying and the singing, I never really engaged. I didn’t really feel anything; good or bad towards religion. I went because I had to, but I didn’t participate. It wasn’t until I came to the states, to Georgia of all places, that I started to understand my religious views.

Within a few months, I started to hate God and everyone who claimed to be a Christian. All I could see were judgmental individuals who were using their relationship with God to proclaim to be better than me. I had teammates, even strangers, try to force their beliefs onto me. I had a teammate that after admitting I have dated girls in the past (because I believe in forthcoming honesty), proceed to tell me that, “It’s okay, because I believe God gives everyone a second chance.” Uhhhh I don’t think that me being “gay” is wrong and is something that needs to be forgiven. I had other individuals explain that unless I believe in Christianity, I am bound to be unhappy for the rest of my life. Even if I decided to pursue a religion like Buddhism, I, in this gentleman’s eyes, would be unfulfilled and unsatisfied; Christianity is the only way to live a fulfilling, happy life.

And so I came to despise religion and everything that it represented. But then I went through a period in which I was determined to try and understand these individuals; to understand why it is that they believe. I went to ministry meetings, I went to church, I had conversations about God, the Bible, and religion in general. I questioned and questioned and questioned. Because that’s what I do. I cannot accept things just because; they have to mean something to me. A friend of mine recently told me that it’s apparent I do not like to conform and perhaps that is why I struggle with religion, because I see it as a conformity rather than something that makes logical sense. Amidst my questioning I came to understand the purpose of God in many peoples’ lives and I could respect that, almost admire it, but I realised and accepted it was not for me. At least not for right now.

Many people who have found God have explained that their story began with great suffering and that it was on their darkest day, a day in which they considered taking their life, that they were saved. After writing the piece, The Beauty in Pain, a friend of mine annotated it. And she annotated it with bible verses. She even proceeded to change the title to, The Savior in the Night. And this frustrated me greatly. It was almost as though my feelings, my experiences, my control were being invalidated and given to something else, something I didn’t believe in. The night in which I had intent to end everything, it was the thought of my parents that saved me. Not God. I didn’t feel shit from him. All I felt was the burning disappointment and suffering that I would cause my parents had I acted on my intent. And, given my childhood, this fear of disappointment is completely contextualised.

When I have questioned individuals that believe in God, “How do you know he/she exists?” I have been answered with, “Well how do you know wind exists? You can’t see it, but you can feel it.” I understand this metaphor, however, wind can be measured; objectively. To me, measuring the existence of God, other than individuals’ claims that he exists, is not possible. There’s nothing really scientific about it. But this leads me to my primary point and question…perhaps the reason religion infuriates me is because I can’t feel God. And what if the former gentleman is right?

Religion and faith have now become more about feeling God rather than fearing God. But what happens when you can’t feel God? Feeling is entirely separate from our conscious awareness, so it’s not as though I can make a decision to miraculously “believe” and I will be graced with the presence of God. Our feelings don’t work like that; they are not under our control. Perhaps then, I am envious of those that do feel God and feel the comfort of his presence because I can’t relate. I don’t feel what they do; I can’t feel what they do. Which leads me to question, is there something wrong with me? If life really is better with God’s presence in one’s life, why then can I not reap these same benefits of safety and security? What is wrong with me?

Some might claim it’s because I’m not open to his existence, that I haven’t accepted him into my life, but again, this is not something I get to choose. We do not have control over our feelings. Jamie Tworkowski, author of If You Feel Too Much and founder of To Write Love on Her Arms, writes about how we all have God-shaped holes within us, holes that can only be filled by his presence. I feel that hole within me, but I don’t believe in a God to fill it. Am I destined then for an unfulfilling life? For dissatisfaction? Why would a God choose this life for someone, why would they destine someone for misery? After all, God has a plan for all of us so it seems logical then to believe that God has planned this suffering for me.

I struggle to relate to writers who talk about their experiences with God and the grace in which they have found within him because all of a sudden, it makes me feel like they can’t understand what I feel. How can they understand my feelings of loneliness, isolation, and misery when they feel the presence of God? When they are never truly alone? Being alone, completely alone, both physically and emotionally, is one of the scariest places to experience. We are all humans in need of other humans, and when we don’t have other humans, nor the presence of a divine entity, then what? Can you understand then, how the darkness of these feelings might lead someone to consider the serenity and comfort they might find in reaching the other side, or at the least, lead them to consider acting on these feelings?

I admit that there is an underlying negative charge that exists within this post and I want to clarify that this is not me taking a stab at religion, rather me trying to express my frustrations of being unable to relate to those that have found comfort in feeling God. It is uncommon to find influential writers that share their story without referencing God. I understand that to many, love is God and God is love, but what if you can’t relate? Can love not exist without the belief in God? To me, these writers make it seem like it is not possible to experience adversity and survive entirely by oneself, a feeling I do not find comforting, but instead, isolating. I suppose then, that I am hoping these words might find other non-believers and offer some understanding into the loneliness and feelings of brokenness that they too, potentially feel. So in the words of Jamie Tworkowski, may you find a friend in these words.