on one particularly crappy day during the summer, i asked my brother, "do you ever wish there was something you could take to make all the bad stuff go away? i just need something to make me feel like everything is ok. even if it isn't, i just need to feel like it is."

"amanda -that's what drugs do."

"oh. right."

i never understood why people did drugs. i never understood what could drive a person to such a desperate state that they felt they had to somehow leave reality for a brighter place. my wise little brother understands all too well, and now i do, too. it's really not such a desperate state -it's the state we're all in -we just cope with it differently. all we want is something to take the pain away -something to make us feel like everything is ok. when we're little, momma and daddy tell us everything will be ok. and we believe them. why shouldn't we? we don't know any better. and it's not that they're lying to us -but in that moment, they reassure us because it's what we need to hear, not because they are sure of it's truth. as we get older, we slowly realize our parents aren't the all-knowing, all-powerful beings we once thought. we turn to other things -music, literature, drugs, alcohol, relationships, academics, work. it's why we join online dating sites and sit at local bars making sure the seat next to us is open. it's why we can't be awake more than 33 minutes without coffee and why we eat like there's no tomorrow. it's why we watch tv shows where beautiful men and women lead romantic and exciting lives -because it's easier to cry over their lost boyfriend, over their dying spouse, rather than crying over our own spilled milk. it's all a kind of drug.

a lot of the time, i'd rather not feel anything than feel what is in my soul. i'll do most anything to bury it -throw myself into a good book, find a new band i like, spend all my time with people, bake some bread, clean my house -anything to get away from the worries, insecurity and hopelessness that come if i allow myself to feel too deeply. but this isn't right. not only does it mean all those feelings are rotting away somewhere inside, it means i'm not experiencing the joy i'm created to live in. since i've been in korea away from home, i've felt more "depressed" than i ever have before. depressed is a strong word, and i don't mean to say i've lived in a state of depression, but i mean it to say at times i've literally felt "pressed" down, "pressed" against, "pressed" to the point it physically hurts. i'm not used to that. but at the same time, i've felt the most -what's the opposite of depressed? uplifted? -that i've ever felt. i've felt spontaneous joy and hope through simple little things more than i ever have. i've laid on the floor and cried and cried because i don't know how to cope with being alone. and i've danced around my kitchen (the laminate floor is incredibly conducive to socked feet) feeling so happy to just be alive. once you start letting yourself feel, i think both extremes are bound to pop up. without the feeling of utter hopelessness, you can't realize how wonderful it is to find hope. it's not a new concept -without pain, we wouldn't know what happiness is. but i'm realizing it in a new, very real way.

in her book, "traveling mercies," anne lamott (yes, she started all this) talks about grieving over the loss of her dad and best friend. she says, "don't get me wrong; grief sucks; it really does. unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit...you can often avoid the pain by trying to fix other people, etc...but the bad news is that whatever you use to keep the pain at bay robs you of the flecks and nuggets of gold that feeling grief will give you...the more often i cried in my room in ixtapa and felt just generally wretched, the more often i started to have occasional moments of utter joy, of feeling aware of each moment shining for its own momentous sake."

it isn't always death that we avoid grieving over. it's unmet expectations, spoiled plans, broken relationships, unrealized dreams. the more they pile up, the more numb we become to pain and it's softening, gentling, molding, refining affect on us. at least those are my current thoughts. it sucks to feel the "lows," but i'd rather feel them than not feel the "highs." i'm far away from my family and friends, but i have a most wonderful friend to hang out with tonight. if i didn't cry over how much it sucks to be away from the ones i love at home, i wouldn't be this excited to be with someone i love here. "this is plenty of miracle for me to rest in now."

peace...until my thoughts overflow next time. =)