Wallflowers

Last night I had the divine pleasure of watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower with Natalie and her roommates and some of their friends. The movie was fantastic. The acting is powerful in its simplicity. Logan Lerman, Emma Watson, and Ezra Miller play believable high school students; they are not overacting but they keep their characters alive and interesting. Logan Lerman especially impressed me with his depiction of mental crisis that comes from depression and the attempt to express emotions as you're digging them up.

It was just how I used to talk.

*Spoilers Alert*
I loved this movie. Partly because of the acting. Mostly because it was my high school experience (except I never punched anyone in the face or had a best friend kill him/herself). Dating older girls, experimenting with my sexuality, performing in seemingly off-color shows, parties, walking in on friends and secrets, accidentally falling in love with my best friend, trying to feel alive, sometimes feeling infinite, late meals at diners, going to dances and wishing I was anywhere else, getting high and losing a couple days from my life, and everything else that I will not go into too much detail on. It is a happy story that just happens to have some very sad bumps, just like life. My yearning question is why Charlie had to end up in a mental hospital after he tried to kill himself and why I did not. It does not stand to reason that I just got lucky.

Ultimately, I decided that it was inspired friends. That next day was rough, but people still walked down the halls with me before school. Robyn heard from Natalie and freaked out. She convinced me to talk to my parents. Now, out of everyone that knew, their response was the worst possible. My parents got angry. I understand that it was from fear, so I did not respond too poorly, but it really bothered me that they stopped listening to my problems and just threw out general solutions. It felt like they gave up, like they did not trust themselves enough to help me. But I still loved them and wanted their help, not some psychologist's. And that week, Merritt asked me what was up. He walked home with me as I told him everything going on. I am sure he was quiet because he had no idea what to do. But that was enough for me. If he could just listen and not treat me differently then everything would be alright. And ultimately it has been. Almost eight years ago I tried to take my life and did not want to wake up. Now I enjoy waking up (even if getting out of bed is a bother) and look forward to my day. Life is good and God really does love us.

There are parts of me that I am so glad are dead.

Cynical Old Man

So, I've been realizing another part I lost in the last few years.

I usually describe my life before living in Sacramento as unhealthy. There are many reasons. The internal illness peaked at the end of my freshman year of high school. I do not know why exactly. I do not understand everything that I let in or how it festered there so long. My life restarted when I moved from Nebraska to Arizona. My life restarted again when I went to high school. Neither time really cleansed me. I do not know why. I clung to too much I suppose. I tried to be comforted by things in the past, not realizing that they were some of the problems. To be honest, I didn't know I was so unhealthy going into high school. I thought I was just a bit dissatisfied, a bit unhappy, with the way my life was.

After the peak I meandered around healing. School years wore me down and summers built me up. I wonder if it was the people at school that tore at me. Maybe it was the grind of teachers. Maybe it was boredom or too much time to think. Was it summer trips that helped? Adventures around town? A different crew to be around? Or just the closest friends I could have? Up and down I went but mostly up. I was getting better and realizing more and more who I am as well as who I want to be.

College came and I should have changed. I didn't. I stayed the same guy with the same troubles: pride, secrecy, superiority, and little self-control. I will never say experimenting is bad, but I certainly went in troublesome directions with it. It is good to explore, but jumping off a cliff just to see the bottom is a poor plan. Make sure you can still get out by climbing down first. So while I thrived in college and found many of the things that truly matter to me, I found myself lost in pursuit of the wrong rabbit. It felt great to run though.

Then I left for a couple years. I had another chance to cleanse myself and start over. And this time I was given a clear shape to pursue. I readily admit that many religious people scare me. I do not like the idea of concrete ethics, because I prefer looking at individual people. No singular solution works for every individual's problem. But my time in Sacramento put me around people with strong identities. Despite having the religious fire that often put me out, these women and men were still deep and beautiful. They had direction and belief and enjoyed growing secularly and spiritually. I loved it. Finally I found a place I could rearrange myself. I could keep the good and replace the bad with something better. The environment was not perfect, but it was clean enough that I could at least have a clean restart. So I took advantage of it.

I still identify with hippies. It isn't because I am one. It isn't because I try to act like a hippie. I enjoy things that I traditionally associate with hippies: long and billowy clothes, adventuring, loving people because they exist, being healthy, yoga, granola, natural places, and getting high on life. I still love theater and everything about it. The smell of coffee and smoke are delightful to me. Life is good. These are good things, but they weren't complete for me. I already had science and doubt mingled amongst belief and piety so I added religion to my spirituality; now I have a path for my learning and loving. To be honest, I don't feel blind walking up a staircase in the dark if I keep ahold of a handrail, because I still know where I'm going.

Cynicism was easy. I doubted everything. To an unhealthy extent I'm sure. I didn't trust religion, science, math, literature, teachers, or even friends and family. It made sense to doubt religion because I could prove so little of it. Science and math seemed arbitrary and too rigid though I admit this mostly comes from my lack of knowledge. I suppose the same is true of my religious doubts too. Literature was infuriating. It seemed like the worst combination or opinion and fact. One must worry about being gramatically perfect, stylistically talented, and uniquely interpretive to impress or render honor from colleagues or teachers. Relationships were terrifying. I doubted how they felt about me. I was unsure about what benefit I could have to people. I saw no point in my sticking around.

Now I call myself healthy. I do have a benefit and purpose in life. I sense no darkness in my heart or my eye. I'm happy every day. It's easier to love and be loved. Studying is fun because I can learn something and belive it but still accept that it might not be true. I can change and it is alright to be wrong. Little things are so delightful and big things are uplifting. From cynic to idealist, I find myself hoping everything is alright and willing to help change problems that still exist, even if the problem is me.