I had an appointment with my psychiatrist today. We spent a good half hour talking about my symptoms -- depression , anxiety, lack of initiative. I had a moment, brief and in passing, that I thought #whitegirlproblems. Of course, I understand all races are affected with mental health diseases. Perhaps #middle-classproblems or #roofovermyheadandfoodinthefridge would be more accurate. I just had this moment that I thought, "What do I have to be sad about?"
Fast-forward a handful of hours later and I'm catching up on local news. I read about a fatal car accident that ends in 4 deaths, all of young adults between the ages of 19 and 29 years old. Twenty-nine - one year younger than I am now. One year.
What if I had one year to live? One year in oblivion of the fate I would soon meet. One year of staying in bed, insecure in my abilities with dwindling hope for my future, a future that would end abruptly with no more chances to love and forgive and breathe with every ounce of my soul. One year to pass up the chance to say "I'm sorry" to those who befriended me and slowly took a step back when I acted out in pain, or the chance to say "You were the light I remembered when I wanted to take my life" or "Jesus is the answer to our struggles".
Twenty-nine. Just one year. A death, a former acquaintance, a friend of sorts, a nice gentleman who talked to me about his faith and an upcoming sermon that he was giving in the church his father was a pastor in. He was nervous and had been preparing. He knew God would lead the way.
Did he leave the earth the same way? I remembered him as I read his name and birthplace and congregational ties, remembered our talks, few in number, but I remembered.
What will I be remembered as? The symptoms on my medical chart? The worldly hurts and regrets that have cut me to my core? When will I live for Him? When will I simply live--wholly and silly with faults and bruises and battle scars? I've asked this same question. Year after year after year. If my name was listed in the paper tomorrow, what would the person reading it remember about me?
She was nervous and had been preparing. She knew God would lead the way.