the scattered pieces

We all change in many ways throughout our lives--many changes are borne about slowly through time and we never notice them.  The laugh lines deepen in our faces, our skin becomes weathered (or chemically altered...oops!).  Some changes happen in an instant and our very outlook on life is shattered at a new revelation.

In more ways than I could have imagined, I am a radically different person from who I was only four years ago.

In junior year of college (2010) my roommate at the time, Mark, asked me very sincerely on the way to Founders one Monday night:

"Are you happy Steve?"

At the time, my answer had been something along the lines of:

"Yes, mostly.  Sometimes I wish I didn't spend so much time studying.  Sometimes I wish I had gone out and done more stupid stuff, but I don't regret the choices I've made."

I've since gone back to that question periodically and re-evaluated my life.

My answer during the last three years has been:

"Um. Yes?"
"Hmmmmm..."
"No.  Kinda yes?  In many ways yes...but permeated with suffocating dread."

There came a point at which my ability to put up with circumstances, people and being healthy emotionally hit a wall.  My self-confidence had been gradually eroded away and crushed months before this point.

The only things really holding me together were my family (as best they could from 500 miles away), my friends (who I would have crumbled to pieces without) and whatever tattered and paltry faith in God I was unsure I wanted to cling to.

When that moment came, I made a decision.  Many people make this same decision, for many and more reasons: to leave graduate school.  In a way I was lucky--I left with a well respected degree in a field I love from a great school.  I struggled with the initial perceived failure of what that choice meant for months.  I don't regret it any more, though I did at first.

August of 2014 began my struggle to pick up the pieces of what I thought my life would become.  It was when I began to try and find meaning in who I was, what I wanted, and who I would become.

Looking back over the last 11 months, I evaluate again that inexorable question:

"Are you happy Steve?"

This time, my answer is longer, more nuanced, and accompanied by an Oxford comma.

Now I can say that I am happy.
I can say that I'm not looking helpless and confused at the floor and the pieces scattered there.
The person in the mirror has deeper laugh lines, and lines from anxiety (the stress tic has been gone for over 6 months!), but there is a new kind of confidence there--not naive and stupidly brave, but rebuilt and with experience.

I have many people to thank for this change; many to thank for happy, confident, peace:
Close friends, new and old.

They challenge me, they love me, they hear me and they know me.
We talk together, eat together, we drink together (way too much!).
We grieve many things together--death of the very old and the impossibly young, infidelity, and shattered friendships--and we come through to the other side.

Supervisors that see the good and better in me--that let me figure out how to be more excellent.

They give me crazy opportunities I would have never imagined.
They trust me to take on projects seemingly too big for me too soon, that were just right.

Mentors that remind me of my strengths and encourage me in my weaknesses.

With that, today I can say I'm the person I want to be--satisfied with who I am--looking to do the next hardest thing I can find, and simultaneously terrified at the prospect!
I'm not anxiously looking for anyone to 'complete' me (even though people love to ask if I'm seeing anyone, haha!), because they'll be pretty obvious to me when I see them.
My emotions are healthier.
My people are beautiful--they are the friends that I have always wished for.
My family is finally close to me.
My faith is a work in progress, different, shrunk and grown, expanded and with punctures and scars--but I still have it.