Saturday, April 21, 2012
An Exhibition on The Anatomy of an Existential Crisis
Every possible thing that could possibly advance my life is a few months in front of me. This has led to an (un)fortunate span of time in which I could deeply think and meditate on my future, and on every possible way I could screw everything up.
This all started roughly two weeks ago.
It all started with a thought, a tiny sentence that grew into a mind-consuming behemoth:
"Can you trust the people you love?"
I shook it off at first, not wishing to dwell on it. No point in eroding my foundation, I countered. Relationships are nothing without trust, right? Not missing a beat, my overactive thought process decided to throw me another curveball:
"If something you care about can't stand up to questioning, how can you trust it? And if you aren't willing to question it, is it truly worthy of your time and trust?"
Now, that? That was a good point. But with that point, not only was my trust in my family and my future wife brought to its knees, but my very faith, the core of everything that I am was being assaulted with everything my mind could throw at it.
The questions didn't stop there.
"How are you going to provide for your fiance?"
"What happens is the Air Force doesn't take you?"
"Have you thrown away your dreams for nothing?"
"Where is this God you hold in such esteem?"
"How have you managed to squander the last six f#$^ing years of your life?"
Suddenly, I had no hope in my future. I had no hope in me. Nothing. I was nothing. I could do nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Nothing.
I couldn't hold it all up. Didn't try. Didn't want to. For the two weeks, I made no pretense of my mental collapse.
I've been a mess. To be completely honest, I'm still a mess.
But something changed in me today. I faced down each question in turn. I stared each one in the face and told it to give me its best shot.
Today I have hope.
I have hope that the God I hold so highly in esteem is more than capable of watching over me and my soon-to-be bride. I have hope that regardless of what the Air Force thinks I'm capable of, I'm still more than just a carbon-based lifeform wasting an oxygen and nitrogen mix on this rock we call Earth. I have hope that I'm no mistake. I have hope that my dreams can still be realized. I have hope that I'm meant for more than sweeping floors and cleaning meat rooms, and even if that was all I did in this world, I still have worth.
All of this possible is because I realized one simple truth:
In the act of questioning something you hold close to your heart is, in and of itself, an act of trust.
You don't trust what you don't know.
If you can't bring yourself to question something you trust, then you deny that its worthy of the trust you claim to place in it.
So today, I learned something I thought I'd learned long ago: questions aren't the enemy. Questions lead to the truth about what you trust. It's okay to not know everything, but it's not okay to sit back in and cover your ears when the questions come.
And so I trust.
In God, I trust.
In my family, I trust.
And in myself, I trust that the God I trust in is capable and willing to help me work through every question I encounter.
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