On My Own

by Melody Carlson

  She scowled. “I knew you wouldn't help me.”

  “I can't.”

  “Jordan's roommate agreed to cover for him.”

  “That's his choice.”

  “Fine!” She stood up and grabbed her jacket. “I should've known you're too goody-goody to help me.”

  I bit my lip, controlling myself from saying something I knew I'd regret. But even as I did, I recalled her little speeches about how we're supposed to act like grown-ups and how we're not expected to help each other out at all. But by now, I realized Liz had her own set of rules, and they can change according to her needs. I can't imagine how it would feel to live that way. I mean, I'll admit that I haven't exactly been a happy camper lately, but I'd much rather be in my shoes than hers.

  As a result of our little “disagreement,” she's been giving me the silent treatment and staying out late every night. And even though I know it's wrong, I keep secretly hoping that she and Jordan will eventually work out some way to move in together. (GOD, FORGIVE ME!) I can't help but think how it would be so much easier and oh so much more peaceful to live in this room by myself. And then because I feel guilty about hoping for something that I know isn't in Liz's best interest, I find myself praying for her even more (like I think that makes up for it!).

  DEAR GOD, PLEASE DO A MIACLE IN LIZ'S HEART. PLEASE, HELP HR TO SEE HOW MUCH SHE NEEDS YOU. SHOW HER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE HER AND HOW YOU REALLY HAVE A MUCH BETTER PLAN FOR HER LIFE. PLEASE HELP ME TO BE A BETTER LIGHT FOR YOU. I CONFESS I'M SELFISH AND SELF-CENTERED AND NOT REALLY LOVING HER THE WAY I SHOULD. I NEED YOUR HELP! AMEN.

  Saturday, October 5 (bummed out)

  I have a feeling that I'm depressed. And I'm not sure what to do about it. I'm not even sure if that's what it really is. But it's as if this thick, black cloud is hanging over me. Although I get occasional glimpses of sunshine, it's mostly just gloomy, murky darkness pressing in all around me. Oh sure, I get up in the morning and go to my classes. I come home and do my homework. But that's about it. It's like I'm disengaged or something.

  Not only that, but I'm really, really homesick. Not just for my family (although that's a huge part of it) but also for my old friends and high school, even for my old bedroom. I just want the good old life I used to live back before I got my stupid “independence.” And, believe me, admitting this makes me feel like a great big crybaby, but it's as if I need to say it and just get it out into the open, even if it's only in my diary.

  I can't even talk to anyone about how I feel because I'm sure they'd all just laugh at me or think I'm nuts. I pray about this whole thing, and even though it seems to help (at least for a while), these unhappy feelings keep coming back.

  It's like I'm not even me anymore. What happened to that Caitlin O'Conner who was always on the go, always thinking she could do anything, go anywhere, ready to change the world? I just don't get it. Oh, I suppose I could pretend to be like the old me, especially if, say, my old friends happened to stop by unexpectedly (like that'll ever happen!). But I'm not even sure I could pull that off. It's as if something in me is broken and I don't know how to fix it.

  I even went on-line and looked up the symptoms for depression, and while I don't have all of them, I do have some. I feel tired and apathetic. I don't have much appetite and it's hard to get up in the morning. I feel like I'm not interested in much of anything. I know I don't like the way I feel, but I'm just not sure what to do about it or even if I can do anything. But here's what scares me the most–I'm starting to remind myself of Liz!

  DEAR GOD, PLEASE HELP ME. I THINK SOMETHING'S WRONG, BUT I DON'T EVEN KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IT IS. PLEASE GIVE ME SOMEONE TO TALK TO, SOMEONE WHO'LL UNDERSTAND AND KNOW HOW TO HELP. I KNOW YOU'RE HERE WITH ME AND THAT YOU LOVE ME, BUT I FEEL SO ALONE RIGHT NOW. PLEASE, HELP. AMEN.

  Sunday, October 6

  Somehow I dragged myself out of bed this morning. (When all I really wanted to do was to sleep in and forget about everything–especially my miserable little life.) Liz never made it back last night, and I must confess that it hardly concerned me at all. Mostly I was grateful to have the room to myself as I slowly and ploddingly dressed for church. Then I walked through the chilly morning fog, barely noticing the fall foliage that seemed to have changed color overnight. It's as if part of me was dead–or dying.

  When I got to church I couldn't force myself up into the front pews, so I sat in the back, hunkering down, my Bible in my lap, hoping to meld into the seat and disappear. Yes, I was definitely in bad shape.

  Just before the service started, Bryce slipped into the pew beside me. I glanced up at him and tried to smile, but I'm sure it must've looked pathetic. He appeared slightly surprised to see me there, and I knew he hadn't sat by me intentionally. I suppose that made me feel even worse. I didn't look his way again throughout the entire service.

  I'm not totally sure when I began to tune in to what Pastor Obertti was saying–was it midway through the sermon or closer to the end–but it was the words: “You must die to yourself daily” that really caught my attention. Suddenly I sat up straighter and even leaned forward, hoping that I might somehow absorb the meaning of what he was saying.

  “Jesus laid down His life for you,” he continued. “Not so you could live a perfectly wonderful life, but so you might, in turn, lay down your life for Him. Jesus said that whoever tries to gain his life will lose it, and whoever willingly gives up his life, for His sake, will gain it.”

  Let me tell you, those are not easy words to hear. Even when the service ended, I found myself sitting in the pew and mulling over the pastor's sermon. If felt as if a huge battle was waging inside my chest, and I didn't even notice that tears streamed down my face. I just stared into my lap, studying the blurry words on the front of my Bible, trying to pray but not really succeeding. You know how it feels when you have a great big lump in your throat? Well, I felt like I had a gigantic lump right in my spirit–as if something was blocking me and I didn't quite know what it was.

  Just then I felt a nudge on my shoulder and looked up to see Bryce looking down at me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with concerned brown eyes.

  I swallowed hard and tried to speak, then just shook my head.

  “You wanna talk?”

  The truth is, I didn't want to talk to him or anyone just then, but for some reason I nodded and stood.

  “How about a cup of coffee?” he suggested as he ushered me out of the church.

  “Sure,” I managed to croak. “Sounds good.”

  I attempted to regain a little composure as we walked to the coffee shop. Fortunately for me, Bryce carried the bulk of the conversation, informing me that Stephen had borrowed his car to go home for the week-end to celebrate his parents' silver wedding anniversary. Then we were seated in the coffee shop and I knew it was my turn to talk. How could I possibly explain what I was feeling to someone I barely knew, especially since I hardly understood the whole thing myself? I took a sip of cappuccino. “You must think I'm a real basket case.”

  Bryce shrugged. “Who isn't occasionally?”

  I studied him more closely. He looked pretty together to me with his neatly cut brown hair, navy sweater, and Gap khakis. By all appearances he was a confident sort of guy who knew exactly who he was and where he was going. Kind of like Josh.

  “I don't know what's wrong with me,” I said, although I knew that wasn't entirely true.

  He nodded and took another sip of coffee.

  “Well, I guess I sort of know. For one thing I'm home-sick.” I glanced up at him, wondering if he'd think I was a big baby, but he just nodded as if he understood. “And I feel sort of lost–like a tiny fish in a big sea.” He nodded again. “And on top of that I've managed to get the worst roommate imaginable.”

  Bryce smiled. “The first year is always hard.”

  “Was it hard for you?”

  He nodded. “Yep. It's easy to admit it now, but I didn't tell a soul at the time. I was so homesick last year that I started getting
stomachaches, and it was hard to keep food down.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And I'd come from a small town–well, you know, Campbell. It's only about twenty miles from your hometown.”

  “Wow, that is small.”

  “Uh-huh. It's the kind of place where everybody knows everybody. A little different from here.”

  “Must've been hard.”

  “It took a couple months to make the adjustment. But I started going to the fellowship group and made some good friends. And now it all seems like a distant memory.”

  I sighed. “Well, that gives me hope.”

  “What did you think of today's sermon?”

  “It really got to me.”

  He swirled the coffee around in his cup. “Yeah, me too.”

  “I know it's probably just what I needed to hear too, but it sure wasn't easy. I guess I felt pretty nailed.”

  “That's a good way to describe it.”

  I smiled. “Yeah. To be totally honest, I think I've been having a great big pity party lately. Party of one, that is.”

  He chuckled. “We've all been there.”

  “It's like I've been so wrapped up in poor old me and my miserable little life and how nothing seems to be going right. I think it's gotten me pretty bummed, if not totally depressed.”

  “That's usually what happens when we focus on ourselves too much.”

  “Kind of like what Pastor Obertti said about trying to save your life and yet losing it?”

  “Yep.”

  “And I'm even thinking about my roommate now. Like maybe God really did put me with her for a reason, but now I'm worried my self-centeredness may be messing it all up.”

  “It's not too late. God can fix anything–if you let Him.”

  “Yeah. I think I'm ready to let Him. It's no fun doing it the other way.”

  We talked for about an hour, and by the time we finished, I felt so much better. And I felt as if I knew Bryce better too. There's a lot more to him than I'd originally assumed. He's a very thoughtful and sensitive guy, with a real heart for God. He's someone I appreciate having for a friend. And it's such a relief to know that he already has a serious girlfriend. She goes to school out of state, but they've been involved with each other since high school.

  “We hardly ever see each other,” he explained as we walked toward the dorms. “But we e-mail almost daily, and in some ways that makes us feel closer than when we're actually together.”

  So I feel like, not only did I make a good friend today, but God got my attention in a big way. Now I'm going to look up (and write down) all those Bible verses about dying to self daily. And I'll try to remember that my life belongs to God not me. If I find myself indulging in a stupid pity party, it must mean that I'm not laying down my life for Him. Because it's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you're living for God.

  The cool thing was, as I walked back to my dorm, I actually noticed how totally gorgeous the fall foliage was today. The fog had burned off and the sun was shining through the colorful leaves. They looked just like jewels–amber and rubies and amethysts! It was so amazing. I even gathered a bunch of leaves to take to my room. And you know what? I almost feel like my old self again!

  THANKS, GOD! THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME THAT I AM YOURS AND THAT I'M NOT TO CLING TO MY LIFE BUT TO SIMPLY LAY IT AT YOUR FEET. AND THANK YOU FOR THE FRIEND YOU GAVE ME IN BRYCE TODAY. HELP ME TO REMEMBER ALL THAT YOU SHOWED ME, AND HELP ME TO BE A BRIGHT AND SHINING LIGHT FOR YOU! AMEN.

  FIVE

  Tuesday, October 8

  I've been really trying to reach out to Liz lately. And strangely enough I think I've made some real progress. We actually had a conversation this evening (before she left to meet Jordan). It started when I told her that I'd been a little depressed and homesick last week. I'm not quite sure what made me tell her, except that I was offering her some goodies from a package my mom sent. (I think Mom's mother's intuition kicked in, and she suspected that I'd been feeling bad.)

  “Yeah, you seemed bummed,” she said as she bit into a homemade chocolate chip cookie. “Not your regular perky self.” Although, the way she said the word “perky,” it sounded like she might've been referring to a bad skin disease.

  “You probably liked that.” I forced a smile, hoping she wouldn't take that wrong.

  “In case you haven't guessed, I'm not really into perky.” She studied me then shook her head. “No offense, Caitlin, but you're the last person I'd have picked to room with.”

  I tried not to be offended as I offered her another cookie. “Why's that?”

  She laughed. But it was that hard, brittle laugh. “Isn't it obvious? We're like the original odd couple, oil mixing with water, Goody Two-Shoes meets Madonna, you know?”

  “But you don't really know me–”

  “Oh, I know you. Don't kid yourself.”

  I set down the cookie tin and focused on her. “Nope, I don't think you really do. Sheesh, I hardly know myself some days. But since you think you know me so well, how about if you tell me just who itis you think I am.”

  She sat down on her bed and studied me, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I don't know, … I'm not sure you can take it.”

  I sat down on my bed across from her, took another cookie, and said, “Try me?”

  “Fine.” She folded her arms and looked evenly at me. “Well, like I told you that first day, I think you're a good little Christian girl who's been going to Sunday school since you were in diapers. I doubt you've ever done anything seriously wrong. Your parents are probably fine church-going people, respected in the community but slightly hypocritical behind closed doors. You were probably a good student in school but not highly academic, maybe you were a cheerleader with lots of popular friends who all walked and talked and dressed alike. Your boyfriend was probably a jock who's moved on to bigger and better things, or so he thinks. You're feeling slightly lost just now, like a small duck in a big pond. As a result, you're probably suffering from some real self esteem issues, and right now, you're probably wishing I'd shut up.” She narrowed her eyes. “Am I right?”

  Part of me wanted to explode and just tell her off, but at the same time, I knew this was the most conversation we'd had in a month. “Okay,” I began slowly, fighting for self-control, “You're about half right–or maybe less.” I thought for a moment. “I am a Christian, but it was less than two years ago when I made that commitment. I've never been a cheerleader, and I'm actually fairly academic. I've never been really popular, although one of my friends was, but then she decided that popularity was highly overrated. And my best friend–” I stopped and laughed as I thought about good, old Beanie. “It's ironic, but my best friend is actually a little like you–or she used to be anyway. My parents used to think she was a real wild child because she dressed pretty weird and liked to shock people. She had a pretty sad home situation and then she got pregnant and–” I stopped myself. “You probably don't really want to hear all of this.”

  Liz was staring at me now, like maybe she thought I was making all this stuff up or something. Then she shrugged. “Well, I guess it just goes to show that you can't judge people based on appearances alone.”

  I smiled. “But it's easy to do, isn't it?”

  “So then, who do you think I am?”

  I felt slightly off guard now. Certainly I had my opinions about Liz, but I wasn't really ready to voice them to her. Above all else, I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

  “Come on,” she urged, “I told you.”

  “Okay.” I peered closely at her smooth, even features, still slightly amazed at how she usually managed to keep her face somewhat emotionless. I suspect she'd be good in a poker game. Then suddenly I wondered what it was that I'd overlooked or possibly misjudged in her, but I decided to begin anyway.

  “Well, I'm guessing your family is fairly well off, but I don't think they're very happy. Maybe your parents are divorced. I think it's possible that someone, maybe even someone in your family, has hu
rt you deeply, and I doubt you've forgiven them for it. I'm sure you're very academic but slightly lazy or perhaps just unmotivated. Maybe you're even depressed, I'm not sure. But I'll bet you don't love Jordan nearly as much as you think you do, and I suspect you don't have one single good friend that you can really count on.” I felt my eyes get wide as I realized what I'd just said. I hadn't really meant to go that far. It's like it all came pouring out of me. “I-I'm sorry, Liz,” I stammered as I noticed her countenance darken, if only for a moment. Then she just laughed again.

  “Hey, don't worry, I can take it. And for your info, you're not even half right. My parents are happily married, and although they're comfortable, I wouldn't describe them as well off. Yes, I am academic, and maybe I am lazy. But then I've never had to work hard to get good grades. As far as that bit about Jordan and my friends–” she rolled her eyes dramatically–“I think your imagination is putting in overtime. Or maybe you're just jealous since I haven't seen you with one single friend.” Then she stood up and pulled on her jacket. “Of course, I could be all wrong too.” She snatched another cookie from my tin, then jerked open the door. “We could both be all wrong.” And then she was gone.

  Although it wasn't exactly a feel-good sort of conversation, it was better than nothing, and I do think I know her slightly better now. Not so much by what she said as by the way she said it. She really seemed to react strongly to what I said about Jordan and her friends, which leads me to suspect that, despite her denial, I might not have been too far from the truth. Mostly I think Liz is one mixed-up girl. But I also believe God has a plan for her. And I actually hope I get to be part of it.

  Wednesday, October 9 (great news!)

  It's pretty late, but I just had to take a moment to write down the great news! just returned my mom's phone call to find out that Aunt Steph finally went into labor this morning, and Clayton Antonio Berringer was born at 3:50 p.m., weighing in at a sturdy eight pounds and six ounces. Steph and Tony are totally jazzed, and now little oliver has a baby brother. It's just too cool! My dad already e-mailed the baby's first picture to me. He looks tiny and wrinkly and red, but he has the biggest dark eyes. I just love that they named him for Tony's brother Clay. I bet Clay is looking down from heaven and rejoicing right now. I can't wait to see the baby in person!