The Wolves

I've been putting off writing this for a while now. This is going to be the most personal blog I have made public so far. My hope is that the purpose of writing this is clear. As many already know, I lost my mother unexpectedly in April of 2016. Several months after my mother died I went through a divorce(I'd be happy to answer any further questions about this privately). This blog (along with my other blogs) is not a means to gain sympathy. First and foremost, I write to release and better understand my own emotions. I want a clearer view of what is going on in my own life. Writing helps me cope with the battles I fight every day. Second, I write to identify with anyone who may be going through similar circumstances. I wish I could go back to warn and mentor myself before and during the darkest days of my life(so far). If I could be of any small help to someone who can relate in the smallest way, I would be honored. I want to be as real as possible as I bring to light the battles I've been fighting. I also want to share some of the healing that has taken place recently.

Ok. Deep breath. Hands shaking. Here we go.

I spent nearly two years in property management in Omaha before moving back to Lincoln earlier this year. Several months after my mother died, certain circumstances forced me to live alone in a small apartment. I am normally comfortable being on my own, but this was different. When my mother died, I had people all around me caring for and loving me. When I lost my wife, there were very few people that I leaned on. There wasn't really any notice. Suddenly I was losing my wife as I moved into a new environment. I was about to dive deeply into depression. My very first night, I remember sitting in my car outside of my apartment weeping. I felt so lost and vulnerable. I was about to meet the Wolves. It's easier for me to refer to the voices I hear as "Wolves" since in hindsight, they seemed to view me as their prey. The first time I heard them was seemingly encouraging. "You need to stay strong. Man up. This is your battle. You can get through this on your own." I wanted to be tough and face my circumstances like I ought to. It made me feel like Maximus in Gladiator; a motivation to face whatever enemy awaited inside the Coliseum. I gritted my teeth and walked into my new apartment. For the first few days I blocked out any feelings of loss and pain. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I would work all day and then immediately go to my apartment to distract myself with television. It wasn't long before I was exhausted. I needed help. I wasn't doing anything to better my situation. There was no healing involved. I was in limbo. I remember thinking, "I need to call my sisters or my dad. I need someone to help me through this." Immediately I felt the second wolf enter. "Don't bother your family with your problems. They have their own issues to deal with. This is your own journey. You need to face it on your own." I remembered that I needed to be strong and face my own fate "like a man." Things started to get worse. I didn't have any energy to be social like I usually was. I couldn't sleep, but I was so tired all the time. Walking into my apartment was something I despised. It was a constant reminder of how alone I was. It felt like I had fallen so far from where I used to be. I began hearing more wolves. They became more hostile as time went on. As soon as I would enter my door I would hear, "How pathetic are you? Look at yourself. You used to have family and friends all around you. Where are they now?" Their voices became louder and more frequent. "You're a failure, just like you've always been. You were given an amazing childhood with all the tools to succeed, but you've ended up here." Sometimes they would be somewhat complementary. "You've done some good things in your life that you should be proud of, but this is the end of your rope. This is your dead end." As I entertained these voices, I began to wonder if they were right. The more I considered the truth in these words I kept hearing, the more they would pour into my head. "You no longer have a purpose here. Why keep trying when you know that there's no hope for you anymore? You know yourself well enough to know that you will just continue to fail." I felt hopeless and without a purpose. The hole I was in deepened.

Standing outside of my apartment complex at 2:00 am one morning, I tried to call out to God for help. I said something like, "God, I want to call you Father, but I'm not sure if you want to call me a son right now. I need help." Immediately the wolves entered to say, "You are such a hypocrite. You haven't prayed in how long? Now that you need something from Him you think He is just going to make everything better?" I hate the thought of being a hypocrite. Working in property management I had been called a lot of different things, but to me 'hypocrite' was the worst. What I hated in that moment more was that it made sense. I had been critical of other people who I thought were hypocrites. It had been weeks since I had prayed or given God even a fraction of my time. Now I felt like a hypocrite; waiting until I was drowning to ask for God's help. I tried again, "God, I just don't know what I'm supposed to do." Again the wolves interrupted, "You do know what to do, you just won't ever do it. Asking God for help is arrogant and hypocritical. He isn't going to help you unless you can get out of the hole you've dug for yourself first." I was speechless. The voice made sense to me. I tried to open up to God several times over the next few weeks, and every single time the wolves shut me up really quick. I stopped trying to pray when I felt like God was silent. I didn't open up to family or friends. I was barely eating or sleeping. Several times I became sick and believed that it was just part of my punishment for allowing myself to be swallowed up in my depression. I would get through the work day with a fake smile while becoming apathetic to my own health. Restlessness took over my mind. I would find myself literally wandering around the streets of Omaha in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to be in that familiar place of hopelessness I had to call my home. I wasn't able to feel emotions anymore. As I continued to fade away I felt more and more comfortable with the possibility of my life ending. I gave a foothold to a darkness that could have consumed me. The wolves weren't trying to scare me. They were trying to kill me.

I'm happy to say that I'm alive today. The wolves tried to destroy me, but God intervened, even after I turned my back on Him. In the midst of my darkness a memory began to play over and over in my mind. A few years ago I had just finished my real estate classes and had to take my real estate exam in order to acquire my license. I've never been great at studying, but I thought I was prepared to pass my test. I didn't. I failed my exam when I took it the first time. I remember sitting in a parking lot after getting my test results and feeling so defeated. Failing my exam added to a list of things that hadn't gone my way. I began thinking about everything that was wrong with me. Why couldn't I pass? Am I the failure of my family? My sisters probably make my parents more proud than I do. What is wrong with me? I sat in that parking lot in tears staring at the tip of my finger for some reason. Out of nowhere I felt a voice in my heart. "I remember designing your fingerprint." That was it. That is all it took. I felt like God was saying, "Did I make a mistake when I made you?" I passed my exam a week or so later. Fast forward to my apartment in Omaha. I replayed that memory over and over. While I was hitting rock bottom, I began to realize that if I truly believe that a perfect being created me, there must be hope for me. Not only must there be hope, but these wolves must be liars. It dawned on me that I was no match for them on my own. I had the choice of seeking help or letting them devour me.

When I look back at this time in my life, I'm able to see my situation much clearer. The wolves are liars. They are malicious con artists. They are the enemy. I still struggle to call out all of their lies. That's really what I'm trying to do here. I want to bring them to light. I want to put them on trial. They damaged me deeply, but they did not destroy me. I sought out a counselor and slowly became more open with my family. An opportunity arose for me to move from my apartment. That was a small turning point. I had to get out of that environment. I'm still dealing a lot of the damage that was caused during that time in my life, but I'm much more alive now than I was. When I think of all the times I listened to the wolves, I get angry. I feel so violated and taken advantage of. I allowed them to tear me down and keep me away from those who wanted to build me up. They saw my wounds as an opportunity. They smelled blood and came for me. There seemed to be a strategy used to carry out their agenda. They schemed against me brilliantly, and at one point were handily defeating me. What I want most is to defeat them. I want to become alive again so that I can stand in victory over them. I want them to see me win. 

I hope that I can be a help to anyone going through something similar. 

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