Not sleeping.

This blog post is a letter to a specific individual. If it makes no sense to you, just imagine it as a creative writing exercise.
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Here's a story that I never tell people, partly because I loath having a diagnosis as a crutch.
The summer after the 8th grade, I was prescribed Prozac by a psychiatrist. We had been seeing him because I was diagnosed with a Nonverbal Learning Disorder. Go ahead and read the wikipedia. I just did, and honestly I was surprised at how well it pins me down. The doctor's reason for the Prozac included some kind of mumbo jumbo about "switching gears" and "holding on" to things too much. I never noticed a difference. Before I left for the weeklong NNED summer camp, I decided that instead of dealing with the incredible hassle and embarrassment of bringing medication to a teen camp and having to go to the nurse for each dose, I would simply not take the medicine to camp. My parents were fine with this idea, because I think all of us thought it was ridiculous that I was taking prozac in the first place.

After we told the doctor that I wouldn't be taking the medicine for a week, he gave me a stern look and said that if my behavior were to get me in trouble, that it would be my fault for not continuing the medicine.

I don't think I will ever forget how I felt after the conversation I had with that psychiatrist. I was physically upset because he had implied that I would have behavior problems due to not taking my prozac. That some how, chemicals were the only thing keeping me from being an insane child that needed mental help. The man didn't know me, but he had diagnosed me. That's not fair.

Here's a challenge. Me and you are out of touch. The only actual conversations that we've had in the past 2 years have been sitting down, in an office, with serious faces. Please honestly consider that you cannot be a judge of my character if you have not spent significant time with me. You need to talk, laugh, and dream with someone before you know their character. If anything is offensive to me about this situation, it is that you have diagnosed me, like a psychiatrist.

I wrote this as an email to myself in April. It is something that I've struggled with for a very long time:
"Im tired of fighting for my ideas. I dont have anyone who believes in me as a partner. I went to Troy but couldn't get anyone to visit the largest walmart in noth america with me. I went to engineering school alone with no support from anyone at the church. I worked on a project at work for a summer and no one supported the research I did on the EPA's diesel regulations. I did my senior project alone. I had a hard time getting people to play music with me, the one time it was for course credit. I hate sticking up for myself because deep down i feel like I shouldn't have to. Growing up, people always tell you to think for yourself and to be an individual, but what they really mean is to "think anything you want, as long as you think like me." 

My parents switched churches about ten years ago and never looked back. I've had plenty of conversations with them about why. The most of a reason that I could get is that they "just didn't fit". And that is completely alright. In fact, that's precisely why there are so many churches in the US. I'm not just saying that I "don't fit". I think I believe it.

I get along with plenty of people. But for some reason, I do not get along with the select handful of people who really matter in this situation. And that is why I am not convinced that its Me. I believe that there is a culture of offense in churches. I offend you, you offend me, and then neither of us talk about it until our friendship has disintegrated. In the "real world", which I am suddenly privileged to be a part of, people talk about their problems. But more often than not, we simply don't offend each other. When I understand that no one is being intentionally malicious to me, all the offensive old people that I work with are hilarious, and I genuinely enjoy hanging out with them.
Somehow, in the church, everyone takes everyone else with grave sincerity. That's a load of hooplah, and I don't want to attend a church where we can't make fun of each other.

But I will play along, at least for now. If you squeeze something hard enough, it will fit in just about anywhere.

Change

Just read this:
" If you adopt the rhythm of stability, then change is a threat. Adopt the rhythm of change, though, and you'll get restless right on schedule."
-Seth Godin

He's talking about how, when we're kids, we have the yearly change of moving to a new grade. Then we turn 18 and maybe go to college, but when that's over, its it. I'm feeling that right now- I could live the next 33 years with no change. Sure, I have some major life decisions left: marriage, house, kids, retirement. But I'm already restless about being stuck. I need to figure out how to get into a rhythm of change, before i've missed all the chances.