It happened, the mask is crumbling, my charade is over; no one was buying it. I can no longer hide behind my intellectual verses, my personality, my responsibilities. I’ve hinted to this many times in terms too vague for people to pick up on, but now it must be told.
Since June, and perhaps even further back, I’ve struggled with a shadow of depression. I know it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, given all the things I’ve told you and the things I’ve done, but I often struggle to just get out of bed in the morning. There are things that I used to enjoy that either don’t capture my interest anymore or I don’t ever do them anymore. I am prisoner to a demanding schedule I’ve created for myself in order to reach for a goal I’m not sure I have anymore. The life is being sucked out of me by things I thought I needed to do in order to be equipped to do what I thought I wanted to do.
The one thing I know I still enjoy is playing football, not coaching football necessarily, but playing it. The last time I did that was at a Cook family shindig this spring and before that it had been probably two and a half years. Again, because of the demands of school and work, I just haven’t had time to do that. I have a break from all that this weekend, but I can’t play football by myself like I play boardgames. Convincing siblings and relatives that they want to play is a task that is impossible for me; none share my enthusiasm for this sport.
In all of this, I struggle knowing that God has an abundant life in store for me and trusting that He provides that for me. It’s not that my faith has been shaken, but the feelings of insignificance, misdirection, and depression are hard to escape. They are the burden I ask that someone help me bear. They are the past I listen to all too often. Despite the fronts I assault your perceptions with, I am just a boy, broken and isolated in my battle. I’m not alright; I’m broken inside.