becoming Lazarus

when i was a senior in high school, i took an advanced lit class. one of the books we were required to read was crime and punishment, by fyodor dostoevsky. this is a pretty standard required read in high school and even in college. i never had a desire to read it, but as i got into the novel i was immediately hooked. i have since read it six times and it has become one of my favorite books. (if you haven't read it, i would highly suggest that you do.)

the novel follows a young man, rodion romanovitch raskolnikov. raskolnikov is a poverty stricken, intelligent, moody person. he hates being around other people. he has a theory that there are two kinds of people: the regular, common people, bound by laws. the second kind of people are the "napoleons" of the world, those who are not bound by law. these people can, and in fact are morally obligated to, commit crimes to provide a way to better the world. raskolnikov murders and robs an old woman and her sister in an effort to prove his a member of this elite class. the novel follows his thought process before and after the crime is committed, and delves into the psychology of a criminal.

another central character to the novel is sofya semyonovna marmeledov (sonia). she is also poverty stricken, and has been forced to prostitute herself to feed and provide for her father, a drunk, her step-mother, who is consumptive, and her three younger step-siblings. she is the savior to her family, although she is sinning to do so. raskolnikov befriends sonia. one day, he goes to visit her. he forces her to read the story of lazarus from the bible aloud to him.

"Sonia opened the book and found the place. Her hands were shaking, her voice failed her. Twice she tried to begin and could not bring out the first syllable.

'Now a certain man was sick named Lazarus of Bethany....' she forced herself at last to read, but at the third word her voice broke like an overstrained string. There was a catch in her breath.

Raskolnikov saw in part why Sonia could not bring herself to read to him, and the more he saw this, the more roughly and irritably he insisted on her doing so. He understood only too well how painful it was for her to betray and unveil all that was her own. He understood that these feelings really were her secret treasure, which she had kept perhaps for years, perhaps from childhood, while she lived with an unhappy father and a distracted stepmother crazed by grief, in the midst of starving children and unseemly abuse and reproaches. But at the same time he knew now and knew for certain that, although it filled her with dread and suffering, yet she had a tormenting desire to read and to read to him that he might hear it, and to read now whatever might come of it!...He read this in her eyes, he could see it in her intense emotion. She mastered herself, controlled the spasm in her throat and went on reading the eleventh chapter of St. John. She went on to the nineteenth verse:

'And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary to comfort them concerning their brother.

'Then Martha as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming went and met Him: but Mary sat still in the house.

'Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

'But I know that even now whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee....'

Then she stopped again with a shamefaced feeling that her voice would quiver and break again.

'Jesus said unto her, thy brother shall rise again.

'Martha said unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection, at the last day.

'Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in Me though he were dead, yet shall he live.

'And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believest thou this?

'She saith unto him,'

(And drawing a painful breath, Sonia read distinctly and forcibly as though she were making a public confession of faith.)

'Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God Which should come into the World.'

She stopped and looked up quickly at him, and controlling herself went on reading. Raskolnikov sat without moving, his elbows on the table and his eyes turned away. She read to the thirty-second verse.

'Then when Mary was come where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying unto Him, Lord if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

'When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled,

'And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come and see.

'Jesus wept.

'Then said the Jews, behold how He loved him!

'And some of them said, could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?'

Raskolnikov turned and looked at her with emotion. Yes, he had known it! She was trembling in a real physical fever. He had expected it. She was getting near the story of the greatest miracle and a feeling of immense triumph came over her. Her voice rang out like a bell; triumph and joy gave it power. The lines danced before her eyes, but she knew what she was reading by heart. At the last verse 'Could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind...' dropping her voice she passionately reproduced the doubt, the reproach and censure of the blind disbelieving Jews, who in another moment would fall at His feet as through struck by thunder, sobbing and believing....'And he, he---too, is blinded and unbelieving, he, too, will hear, he, too, will believe, yes, yes! At once, now,' was what she was dreaming, and she was quivering with happy anticipation.

'Jesus therefore again groaning in Himself cometh to the grave. It was a cave and a stone lay upon it.

'Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto Him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.'

She laid emphasis on the word four.

'Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?

'Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me.

'And I know that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou has sent Me.

'And when He thus had spoken, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.

'And he that was dead came forth."

(She read loudly, bold and trembling with ecstasy, as though she were seeing it before her eyes.)

'Bound hand and foot with graveclothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let him go.

'Then many of the Jews which came to Mary and had seen the things which Jesus did believed on Him.'"

this story meant so much to sonia, and eventually to raskolnikov, because they, too, would be resurrected from their sins. though dead, they would live again, through the healing power of Jesus Christ. i never thought deeply about the story of lazarus before i read crime and punishment. it was a miracle, and it was amazing, but it was (to me) like the rest of the miracles that Christ performed while on earth. after reading the story from sonia's perspective, it became much more three dimensional to me. suddenly, i was sonia. i was raskolnikov. i was lazarus. the Lord was raising me from the dead. the death of abuse, the death of depression, anguish, loneliness.

if i trust in the Lord, if i have faith in Him and his ability to heal me, i can be healed. i can be a new person, and begin my life over again. no matter our situations--for raskolnikov, it was repentance for a crime; for sonia, it was knowing that the Lord would forgive her in doing what was necessary to feed her family; for me, it is overcoming my abuse; perhaps for you it may be moving past the grief of losing a loved one, the difficulty of moving your family across the world, struggling with an illness, or feeling lost and discouraged.

"Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?"

using the past to shape the future

a week ends, and another begins. time moves on. things change.

today i have been in a contemplative mood. at times my life does not feel like my own. i think about my past, what i have seen, what i have done, what i haven't done, and it feels like a dream. i think about my future. i think about what is happening now. in two years will today feel like a dream?

i have so many regrets. i have made so many poor choices. choices that, at the time, seemed like the right thing. choices that i had no idea would impact me in the way that they have. even the smallest of choices can cause such a massive ripple effect that your life will never be the same. you will change. those around you will change. your life can become something completely different.

i make millions of choices every day. whether i am choosing not to attend church on sunday (and instead blog about it on normal mormons), whether i am choosing to put the dishes off until tomorrow, or even if i choose to wear the blue shirt instead of the red one. some choices don't matter all that much (like what shirt to wear) and some do--like church attendance.

yesterday i had an opportunity to see some girls that lived in the dorms with me my freshman year of college. nearly 50 girls were invited, but only three came--including me. we met for breakfast at the dormitory cafeteria. i didn't really know the other two girls that came my freshman year. at least not well. i knew who they were, i knew who they hung out with, i knew which room was theirs. but i never really knew who they were. as i sat and talked to them, i was amazed. amazed at how well we got along. amazed at how much we had in common, about how easily we could talk, about the experiences they shared with me. and i was sad. sad that a few years ago i had every opportunity to get to know them. to be friends with them. why didn't i? because i made other choices. choices that, at the time, seemed like good ones. looking back now, i see they impacted me negatively. i missed out on so much. at the very least, i missed out on years of friendship with these fun, insightful, and compassionate girls. and who knows what else i missed?

but not every choice i made has had negative impacts on my life. even some of the bad choices i have made brought about good consequences. some of the best choices i have ever made, some of the seemingly small ones, have created the biggest, most wonderful results. like that day in september of 2005, when i got fed up with sitting at home every night. when i decided to check out that website. that website, that a few weeks later, led me to meet the man who is now my husband. who is now the father of my beautiful son. who would have thought that one seemingly small choice would change my life forever? would change me for eternity? i am so thankful that i decided to push aside the stigma attached to internet dating. i am so thankful that that man decided to send me an invitation to chat with him. he has become my entire world.

i hope that as i continue to learn and grow i can make more choices like that one. more choices that produce joy, that produce love, that produce happiness in my life and those around me.

the unwelcome dictator

sometimes my depression rules me.

i hate this. i really, really, really hate this. i hate the fact that i don't remember what life is like without it. i hate the fact that my depression affects the ones i love so negatively. but most of all, i hate that fact that i feel so helpless about changing it. i have spent at least half of my life trying to figure out how to make it better. there are some things that give me a temporary fix. my art, for one. blogging, for another, also writing in a journal. i reread some of the things i wrote in my journals when i was 12, 13, 14, even 18 and 19, and i am scared. scared for myself, for what i was dealing with, for those around me who had to put up with my volatility.

i am scared for my husband. for my son. for my future children. for myself.

about every two months or so, i lose it. seriously lose it. i battle the depression in some form or another on a daily basis. mostly in the form of self-loathing, self-defeating thoughts and actions. but these "episodes" are much more than being weepy, and down on myself, and losing interest in things i love. they involve screaming, yelling, sobbing hysterically, slamming doors, saying things i don't mean, running away from myself and everyone around me. hiding under my covers from reality. making threats i don't mean and i don't want to follow through with. damaging the most important thing in my life: my relationship with my husband. suicidal thoughts. anxiety. mood swings. all within the space of an hour or two. zero to sixty in about thirty seconds.

and after the episode, i am miserable. i am embarrassed. i am completely ashamed of myself and my actions. and my husband, emotionally battered, bruised, and hurt beyond anything i can comprehend, cries. hugs me. pushes his feelings aside. and goes on with the hurt and fear of my leaving him. and i want to crawl under a rock and die every time i think of it.

i have been in and out of counseling since i was 13 years old. i saw my very first counselor at the ripe old age of 10. put on anti-depressants at 11. i have been on and off medication. many, many, many kinds of it. sometimes there will be a temporary fix. sometimes things get worse. but always it ends up cycling back to the beginning. all progress i have made is lost in the space of two minutes.

i am tired. tired, frustrated, fearful. my life has been riddled with psychological trauma. but my life has also been full of blessings. of loving and supportive family and friends. of every opportunity for medical help. so why, oh why, in spite of all the good i have had, in spite of all of the hard work i have done, does this continue to happen?

the saddest thing? all of the innocent people who have to deal with my insanity. my husband. and my son. oh, my poor son, who has a mother who loves him more than life itself. my son who has a mother that routinely loses every ounce of dignity and sanity she possesses. my beautiful child who will be scarred for life because his mother has a mental illness she cannot deal with.

my greatest fear. the fear i have lived with my entire life, every time i thought about having children, from the age i was old enough to comprehend the responsibility of being a parent. the fear that my child will resent me. that my child will hurt because of me, because of my actions. that my child will suffer psychologically and emotionally because of me. every parent makes mistakes, every parent screws up their kid in one way or another. it's part of life. i get that. but i will never, never forgive myself if my child hurts due to negative parental relationships. due to the mental illness of a parent.

god bless my son. and my husband. and my future children. god bless them for loving me in spite of my many failures. and god bless me with the knowledge to change.