You're the judge (oh-oh): Excerpt from journal 27/12/17

Started 'Texas Chainsaw' (not original). Usually I'd been v. critical, but I was actually satisfied. The characters were interesting & relatable, the scenes weren't OTT or 'slow'. Was this an average film? I want to see what others say. If the other reviews are condemning then it'd suggest I feel less condemning - if not then I'm not the thing that's changed & this movie was exceptional in its normality. Made me think: why do we judge? 

Overwhelmed at Q's and A's. 

If we haven't listened. If we sit thru a 'bad' movie but listen to the director. Seems fine in intentions and qualifications. Cameramen? Fine.

Is it bc it doesn't suit my taste? Or the publics'/critics'? Or our ideals? If somebody likes it, is mocked & later leads a revolution in the film industry w/ its legacy - are they a genius, fool or lucky bastard? 

Did you answer? Was about to write "fool!" for your judgement but then I'd be a judge, let alone for guessing the future. Is that allowed? Where's the line? Is deconstruction necessary, & if so, how far? 

Sometimes we're encouraged to "see past" the bad acting, poor cinematography, or tacky CGI. See past...to see what? Does a good plot save bad acting? What about if it's all but its core message is 'racism is bad'? Oh that's obvious now..., well what if it's to an area where that isn't obvious, like the UK or US? Does it depend on the film? The time? Place? Audience? Individual? 

One who supports orthodox (probably) "No!"

One who supports cultural relativism (probably) "Yes!".

Did I just reveal sth obvious & embarrassing that'll be pointed tomorrow, & sth in 30 years? Yes. That's for sure.

May write a blog & include that. Get praise, v. clever. Big my ego, just like now. "Oooh...awareness!". "Good for you". Not the gentle voice of God.

Still a fool. Still don't know most things. Still in the dark. Does that make sense? Should I scoff at making sense? Should I pity the scoffer? Should I rebuke the pitier? Should I judge the rebuker? Should I judge the judger? Should I love the judger? Should I pray for the lover? Should I covet the pray-er? Should I judge the coveter? Should I teach the judger? Should I teach the ones trying to answer these? Should I rebuke them? Should I entertain them, like I'm entertaining myself as the all-knowing one, like the ethics teacher who can see the elephant? Should I criticise myself? Should I ever stop

criticising myself? Should I start loving myself? Should I expect answers? Should I work for answers? Should I wait for answers? Should I try more or less? Should I start sleeping? Should I write sth clever? Should I write sth humble? (Clever people being stupid is humble). Should I thank the academy? (Woo fight club) Should I stop here? Should I stop being self-aware? Should I stop being self-aware-self-aware? Should I show off every area of possible interest to look really good? Should I keep reading Einstein, Sun Tzi, Pa...

There is meaning. I can hear it, in the quiet. So far away. "Hello?!" 

Try again in the morning.

That was fun. Now 00:30 - early night. Mind's racing now.

- Don't worry if this doesn't make sense. If you do up on the more playful nature of this entry, please don't commit a logical fallacy of composition and suppose I'm "fine" in general. Didn't sleep until 04:00 haha. Plans are hoping ahead for me to live in a 'supported living' centre for a year, though it's very pricey so I'll make a FundMe thing for anybody who would like to help - regularly or not.

The woes of a young, white-British, middle-class male

So, I visited Oxford. I hoped to have a simple trip, but due to bad luck and bad choices I'm now back in Torquay. I expected to receive money from SFE by 6th October as they had promised in July, but it turns out that they had thought I was returning to uni as a full-time student. Hence, I went to Oxford expecting to live off of a loan, but instead used money I didn't have and ended up more bankrupt than my homeless friends. There was one week when I only had one guaranteed meal per day. I relied heavily on friends for more support than they should have given. I continued trying to do things for others. I suppose that never really stopped. I love people and want the best for them, and I like to help with things to ease the burden for others. I was able to do that and I hope to continue doing so. It's very important to do that. I think it was my attitude that changed. I seemed to be switching between feeling very sad/defeated and angry/content with being selfish - even now, I only occasionally feel willing to humbly make the best of things. Keep this tension in mind as you read this month's post.

As soon as arrived in Oxford, it became clear to my closest friends that I was not in a good place. They soon expressed concern...for a variety of things. I had assumed I could simply travel up and spend a little while relaxing with friends; evidently, I hadn't realised how the events of the previous few months had affected me. Two close friends expressed concern that I was seeking help at the bottom of a bottle rather too easily; another said I wasn't being myself in how I was relating to others in that I wasn't being as considerate as I used to be. These were true, among other pervading issues. I tried to improve things. It was a struggle: I'd expected to see the uni psychiatrist, the chaplain and perhaps my old counselor to discuss how to improve things; I hadn't expected to receive advice/criticism/concern from multiple sides. I was told that I had the strength to improve things myself. Maybe I did.

But I didn't care.

There's a parable in Matt. 13 that talks about seeds, which represent the message of God's kingdom, and how it's received when heard. One analogy describes how thorns choke up the growth of the seed so that it dies. Jesus' explanation of this is that somebody hears the message, but the worries of the world kill off any fruit/growth. Over the past few months I've felt those thorns creep up my legs, digging into the skin as they become tighter. I tried to shake them off, but every effort I made would only seem to worsen things. Several times I felt like giving up, yet somehow I managed to carry on. This month, the thorns felt like they reached my neck. So, I gave in. I accepted my weakness and apathy. I stopped caring. If you've tried to make good and right decisions but only been let down and let others down as a consequence, yet you've managed to maintain healthy coping mechanisms, then I commend you. I failed to do so. If you haven't been in that scenario, of seeming to only make things worse despite trying to make good decisions, month after month, all while dealing with mental illness, then don't think to judge me. Or...you can, but I won't engage in conversation with you. Ain't nobody got time for that.

During a breakdown I had in Oxford, I realised that I no longer expected answers. As someone who's believed in a loving God all his life, this was tough. This realisation was accompanied by a release of built-up frustration and fury: I destroyed by brick phone, spent a good while punching the shit out of the punchbag in the rowing room and wept so hard my whole torso ached for the next two days. About a week later, as I was sat alone in the library, I came to understand that since that breakdown (as well as the time leading up to it), I'd been distracting myself so I didn't have to deal with that question of why nothing's seemed to improve. Questions without answers. Classic, yet novel. Where does one go from there? Should I have asked more questions? Narp. No thank you. Well, I did. I struggled on for a bit, but ended up in the same place. So I stopped struggling, let the thorns engulf me, and gave into the temptations set before me. I reckon that the newer friends I made on my trip will be/have been surprised to look back on my blog/profile to see my call myself a (dedicated) Christian. Sure, I helped people out and did my usual tidying up after others, but that was accompanied by leaving my own mess behind in drunkenness, and language so foul you may as well have called me Slim Shady. Do I have anything to say for myself? Aaahh...not really. Not yet, anyway. I'm just thankful for the new friends I made, who didn't hold me to any expectations.

My college did want to help, but they're not a clinic. They are a college at the top university in the world. If an unstable suspended student runs rampant on the campus then things will only go downhill: they have 200-odd students and staff to prioritise! I appreciate the effort they put into helping me and hold no grudges against their concern to balance my needs with everybody else's. (I did get rather sick of hearing, "Have you thought about getting some form of part-time job?" as if a. I haven't, or b. like that would suddenly solve my situation.) They have permitted me to return for one weekend later in the term so I can update them on any progress (always nice to be optimistic eh?) and to allow me to visit friends once again. 

I am writing ironically, as the title of this post should suggest. I have loving family and friends, with a warm place to stay. I cook for myself, and watch movies most nights whilst eating Haribo (is product placement allowed on here? If not, kiss my ass). If I were to add "heterosexual, Christian and living in the Southwest" to the title description then it may illustrate just how privileged I am. Yet I'm still bitter and complaining. I don't even know. This is probably quite rambly and may not actually seem coherent; but again, I'm just putting my thoughts out there and I'm just trying to remain honest. I guess I have some integrity left. I sure hope this somehow helps somebody, 'cause I'm struggling to find a 'lesson for the month'.

Now? I'm looking for a job, since I will no longer be supported by SFE and need to settle debt; it is also a good way to pass time and 'create meaning'. At the weekend I visited my lovely sister in Bath uni, and stayed with family in Gloucester where I spent a day working on the farm. I suppose I have calmed down since in the past couple of weeks. My initial draft of this was still pretty angry. I think my time in Oxford elevated all of my emotions: elation, sadness, confusion...now they're all just below average, so I'm a bit numb.

That's it for October. Enjoy Halloween, whether you're worshiping or mocking Satan, or neither.

No clever title for this month

I have no idea what to write for this month.

Two weeks ago I wrote a draft that was angry and expressed my increasing confusion at the apparent absurdity of life. Life had become tiresome, like it was running out of fuel. I've spoken to friends, mentors, pastors and even gone to see psychiatric nurses (the worst appointment I've ever had, but that's another story). I felt like I'd done my best at trying to help myself and all I'd done was tire myself out; naturally, I wondered why I should bother, and started to stop caring what people thought of me or my actions, since nobody could hold it against me that I hadn't at least tried. I was particularly frustrated and bored with attempts to 'make my own meaning'. 'Roads' by Portishead or 'From now on' by Supertramp were two songs that accurately reflected the spirit of my life. Then, the other night, I had the realisation that God loves me, which is something I'd not considered or really believed for months. Through that, I realised how it is love that holds all things together, since life without love lacks meaning, warmth, drive and desirability. I still wanted to write an angry blog (why do I keep writing 'glob'?) and so I tried to deny that realisation. I couldn't help it though; it just went round and round in my head, warming my heart. The next morning, though, I was back to feeling like Camus was right: life is absurd.

I suppose I've been given a choice, in that I know that the love that comes from God (reflected in the first two commandments) is what provides meaning, but will I choose to believe that? Anything else - any attempts to 'make my own meaning' - is like being outside on a winter's night, drawing a picture of a fire and breathing on it in an attempt to create warmth. It's silliness. The book of Ecclesiastes comes to mind. All truly is vanity. 'Hevel': a mist, or a breath. I could put my everything into a family, or a job...even a charity; but at the end of the day, everybody will die and everything will eventually turn to dust. Why bother? I have been going slightly mad, to an extent, rather like The Master in Dr Who. I've stared into the vortex of time, of apparently endless nothingness in day after day of mind-numbing repetition, and it's had an effect on me. A good friend I've recently made met up with me a few weeks back. We'd both had a bad week. We talked...and laughed. That's all I can do. I've cried, screamed, sat and stared in silence...but nothing quite expresses how I feel, except for laughter. It's not a malicious laughter that enjoys others pain like some sort of Bond villain, but just a helpless giggle at the craziness of it all. Life is not what I expected it to be. I have a loving family, friends, food, a warm bed and much more, yet I'm going mad. The majority of you reading this will probably think I'm sounding melodramatic, and that's okay. Maybe it's just my depression, or a 'quarter-life crisis'. Y'all don't know all that's happened, and I won't waste my time trying to convince everybody that I'm not being a drama queen. Why would I bother, after all? Ahahaa...

I met up with my pastor a little while ago and described everything to him. He reckons that something isn't right with my view of God. I think he's right. Looking back, I didn't think God loved me. Going by my experiences of the past couple of years, I felt little reason to believe that - though my depression almost certainly had an effect on my hindsight. I felt bullied, by a cruel bully. I could have avoided a lot of pain, but I felt like a lot of it was not a result of choice. However, knowing that God does actually love me changes everything. I've been trying to hope without love, which meant all hope is empty and actually undesirable. Faith without love is bitter and stagnant, relying on rules and unable to help itself from just being 'religious'. People drift apart without love. It goes deeper: without love, everything drifts apart. If you don't love your work, it becomes a chore. If you don't love a partner, they become exhausting. If you don't love food, you won't make a proper effort to eat properly. If you don't love your body, you won't take care of it. Entropy is inevitable. Everything falls apart. I've been dying. Not physically (yes, I get that we're all dying, har-har, smart-arse), but emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Life without love, is dead. I couldn't help thinking why I hadn't yet committed suicide - the depression doesn't help, but it was more than that - since life without love is an oxymoron. I have previously written that God is the source of life and love. Those are inseparable. God=Life=Love. Remove one and things start to fall apart. Love isn't inherent in the natural world, according to Darwin: ‘Man descended from apes, therefore we must love one another’ (Vladimir Solovyov). It requires effort. It requires effort that I don't have. I need an external source. My life kinda still had God in it, but I didn't think He loved me. Therefore both my understanding of God and my actual life started to fall apart. Trying to have love in my life without God doesn't work because I can't provide what I don't have. If you can, great, but I can't.

I didn't know what I'd write until I started writing. I'm still angry. I don't want to believe. I'm going to be visiting friends very soon because I can't stay in Torquay any longer. I want to be distracted all the time. I feel like a burden to people, though I'm not quite sure what else to do because I've tried so many things and listened to lots of people in trying to help myself. Now, I'm out of energy. I don't deserve any commendation, since I'm not intentionally 'making it through' this. I'm being dragged through it, face-down. I make things worse for myself a lot of the time and am sometimes very tempted to just buy a ticket to the Philippines and disappear. I don't know if any of this has helped anybody, it would be nice if it did. I didn't really want to write a blog, but I promised I would, and I'd be annoyed later if there was a gap where this month's post would otherwise be. If it's confused and bitty, then it's perfect.

That's it for September. I haven't got the energy to think up a thought for the month.

Lessons from heartbreak

In a kind of irony, last month's 'thought' became a reality in my life, as I gave up that which I considered most precious to me. It had been building for a while, but it was only after a day of hard-thinking and an excruciating night of emotional pain that I accepted that Gabriella and I needed to break up. Looking back on my journal, I wrote of the pain that genuinely felt as if my heart was being ripped out. Neither of us have felt that level of pain, due to how close we were. Even now, there is nobody on this Earth who knows me like she does. The last thing we said to each other on the day of the break-up was "I love you"...and we still love each other exceedingly.

So why go through all the pain?

Because of love.

Eh?

It's true. Throughout the past year, she has essentially kept me alive. She has understood my struggles and my pain like nobody else, because she was going through the same thing. I wouldn't have made it through this year. We learnt how to distract each other, how to help each other cope and eventually how to start recovery. There have been plenty of issues surrounding our relationship and all of our struggles, but a main issue that remained was the bad habits we had assumed whilst trying to cope with the turmoil inside our heads. Unfortunately, we found we weren't strong enough to stop these habits whilst we were still together...in fact we ended up urging each other on, most of the time. This counter-intuitively worsened our mental health, since it was damaging our relationship with Jesus and hence causing anxiety/guilt etc. By July, there was a lot of 'fog' around every aspect of our relationship that prevented us from simply being around each other. I felt uneasy when stepping into Church, and jealous when she would worship God as her first love, the latter of which set alarm bells ringing.

Lesson: We are creatures of habit. Fellow followers of Jesus, if you find yourself in a habit that is contrary to the ways of the Spirit (Rom. 8:4-8), do not kid yourself into thinking that it won't (continue to) affect your life - including relationships - if you carry on.

Ultimately, we ended it. We obeyed God. My pastor, Tim Smith, spoke on how obeying God means to walk in his commandments, on Sunday evening. In John 15:10 makes it clear that we must obey the commandments given by God; in Mark 12:28 and Romans 13:8 we learn that the Law is summed up with commandments to love God with everything we have, and then to love our neighbour as ourselves. If I love God with everything I have, my manner of living will change: I will be spending time with God and we naturally become more like those with whom we spend time. There will always be a disparity between the ideal lifestyle of a follower of Jesus (the way Jesus lived) and the reality; indeed, Jesus seemed to have a soft-spot for outcasts and scumbags. The important thing is the mindset: 1 Sam. 16:7b "man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart". Do I want to be more like Jesus? Do I want to have more love for God, myself and others (when you're connected to the source of love and life, it flows naturally to all areas of life...the stronger the connection, the more it overflows)? If I do, then I will be more inclined to let God in - He knocks, but He does not barge in. If I do not, then I need to seek advice or help, or make a necessary change if I'm able. 

Whilst Gabby and I were together, we were hindering our desire to be more like Christ, or were blocking our own/each other's paths that would allow us to continue on our journey with the Lord. Upon realising this, I could choose to try and keep the relationship going on our own strength, though it was already showing signs of stagnation, or I (we) could give her (each other) up back to our creator. One choice was selfish, the other was selfless. I didn't want to do it, but I knew I should. Now that it's been a few weeks, I still really want to be with her, but I am glad we made the decision and have stuck by it. I cannot deny that I wish we would be together someday in the future (which she knows), but only if that decision is triggered by God, which nobody can predict. So, for the foreseeable future, we are both committing ourselves to our Creator. I have seen great change already, in the peace I feel, the dissipation of depression, and how my mindset has changed to be more selfless. 

Lesson: "God has no grandchildren", I heard somebody say recently. It's very true. If He adopts you, which He so wishes to do, then expect to be disciplined like a child. He's not malicious; "For He disciplines the one he loves" (Hebrews 12:6).

Though this month has been painful, it does not call for sorrow, but rejoicing. God is working in my life. If there was no God, or He did not look out for my best interests, then none of this would make sense. I would not have been willing to go through the pain - if you disagree, then...well, get your head out of your ass - and I would not have stuck to it. I certainly wouldn't be feeling peace and joy right now. God wants to heal broken hearts.

That's it for August. Hebrews 11:6; Psalm 51:17.

Thought for the month: To whom/what are you answerable? Partner? Friends? Yourself? Anyone who has an opinion? Now ask yourself why. If you feel able, consider what you'd do if they left or passed away.

A Month of Existential Crises

There is no way I could truly justify an account of my life over the past month in one post: it would be like trying to experience a rollercoaster from a single photograph (like those hilarious ones viewable at the end of the ride). The best I can give is a snapshot. I recognise that this is not at all unique to me, but since mine is the only experience I can recount, all I can say is that I definitely feel like my head is spinning a little more after this month in particular. Whilst I have intentionally tried to avoid making this whole blog-thing a vent for complaining, and tried to only describe anguish that adds to the purpose of this post, I'm afraid I've realised that that makes up most of it. I simply cannot make this month's post 'nice' - I have certainly kept it honest. However, I think there are still lessons to learn. Well, here goes...

July started badly. I had no energy or motivation.  I was barely keeping up with a third of the activities that I listed on the last post. In fact I frequently made things worse for myself in the ways I chose to use my waking hours. A combination of that, and a lack of communication and understanding, led to fights with some of those closest to me. Gradually, everything was losing its meaning. This is not an anxty, grumpy teen thing; I really mean that I could find no purpose in any activity, belief or even relationship. I started to despise waking up...behold, the anger just continued throughout the day. No feeling, no colour, no meaning. Sounds depressing? Yup.

My relationship with Gabriella suffered, until the point where she gave me the verbal equivalent of a hard kick up the ass. It wasn't for being depressed - she also has depression! - but for my response to it and the rest of 'life' (whatever it is). I needed that rebuke. I wasn't being loving or respectful to myself, let alone those around me. I cried hard that night. We sob-talked. I also cried/silent screamed at God (it was 3:00am) since I felt pretty isolated and forgotten by Him. I hadn't come to Him in a while. I felt peace. I felt good for a while, though difficulties soon hit again, hitting hard. The events of that night did not occur in vain, though their effect did not last. I'm not mad that they didn't - I don't think they were meant to last any longer than they did.

I needed help. I needed it anew every day. Part of my situation was my fault, and part of it wasn't. Either way, I needed help. I don't mean medication, I mean change...from the inside-out. If I'm honest I'm still not proud of how I'm living, or of the thoughts going around my head now. Little seems to have changed in that respect. Am I always responsible for my thoughts and desires? No. I'm ill. Diagnosed. Four times. However, I am responsible for a good lot of them. The question is whether I am able to own up to my weakness in giving in to living in ways that harm myself and others.

Ron Dunn is a Christian pastor who has written some incredible books. In one, When Heaven Is Silent, he recounts the suicide of his son and its effects. Dunn's easily had his fair share of suffering. What he writes is quite astounding. He cites the account of Jacob in Genesis, who wrestles with God. Essentially, Dunn wanted to point out that our biggest battles in life are with God. Death. Illness. Confusion. Unemployment. Doing one's best and still failing. Does Job complain to Satan? Nooo. His friends and he discuss why God is letting him suffer. Dunn didn't battle with demons. He battled with His Father. I can relate to that. I don't understand why He does what He does.

My life still feels quite turbulent. I cannot remember when my fingernails were not completely bitten back. This process - of feeling confused, depressed and vulnerable, then clarity, enjoyment and a degree of peace - is continuing with no apparent end or purpose. It is like watching an endless tennis match...apart from, in this instance, I'm the tennis ball: thwacked and thwopped from one side to the other at 100mph. I don't know how to answer the question, "How are you?", anymore. Words require historical context to have meaning (one thing I am actually enjoying is Anthony C. Thiselton and the Grammar of Hermeneutics - fantastic book by R. Knowles. See p.143 for reference), and I feel like if I replied "I'm fine", then any meaning attached to that phrase is lost in the past; and that nobody, especially not I, can phrase my ongoing experience in a way that makes sense (think of Robin Williams in Jumanji, trying to readjust).

Most of the time I feel meaningless. I believe Jesus died for me, yet I still feel meaningless - how? Well, I guess I still don't understand such love. I don't think about it enough. I only have a tiny bit of faith, but that wee bit is in the God of the Universe, and it is the object of faith that is the deal-breaker. If you sit on a weak chair and believe with everything that it'll hold you up, that does not mean it will. If you sit on a strong chair, it will hold you up even if you don't consider it. The little boy who offered up his small meal of bread and fish happened to give it to the one who made it feed five-thousand. In the meantime, even though I don't feel it, I know that He won't stop loving me. I don't always think it, but if somebody asked me then I'd say it. I need to learn how to receive whilst I give whatever is left of me, however meagre.

It is important to say that there have been times in the past month in which I have been up and dressed before mid-morning, or done exercise. I have successfully started tutoring Spanish to a young girl. My drumming has improved. I have lost passion for my story, though that was to be expected and it still remains in the background. I have also spent a very decent amount of time with friends, old and new, which is generally what I enjoy the most...the issue is that it's also the most tiring. In some ways I am achieving greater balance in the time I spend with people (other than Gabby), though in other ways there is no progress. Really, I don't really know how to measure 'progress'. If my description of my current state does not seem accurate to any reading this who may have seen me recently, then let that help you see how turbulent I really feel.

I still need help, every day. When I recognise my need and ask for help from God, I generally don't end up in a heap on the floor. When I don't ask for help, I find myself in that heap pretty quickly. I am not strong. It's not easy to admit but it is simply part of what God asks for.

Apologies for the longer post. Thank you for reading. I didn't really want to post anything but I said I would. There's a lot more I could say, but I'll stop. That's it for July. Isaiah 55:9.

Thought for the month: I could not think of any self-evaluative questions, which oddly led me to the most profound self-evaluative question I've ever considered. After all of the of distracting questions that skirt around the edges of your essence, after everything else is stripped away, what is left? At the very root, what is left? Are you really being honest with yourself? 

Taking a Break - Kit Kat Scaredy-Cat?

I'd almost forgotten that I still have a blog, until I wanted to record my year off in a way that keeps y'all up-to-date. It should also keep me busy, whilst doubling-up as a reflective activity. I'll update the state of my well-being and spout my thoughts every month, at least until April 2018, when I hope to return to uni. Since I've only been off for a couple of weeks, this will be less of a blog input, and more of a description of my thoughts of leaving and my plan for the year.

Feel free to dip in to this as much as you wish, or completely ignore it...I mean, it's not like I'm monitoring who reads it...or am I...?

This picture not only the reflects the terror of my readers now realising that I sound like a stalker, it is also relevant to the theme of this first entry: is it cowardly to demand rest?


Our culture is keen to indoctrinate us with expectations. We should be married by thirty, we ought to get a college/university education, it's better to be rich, to look good, to smell good and so on. One expectation - one which particularly resides at Oxford - is the expectation to work until we've reached our limit...then carry on working. Look at the UK education system. It's not about learning; it's about equipping kids to pass exams so they can move on to the next step in the system. Children in Year 5 are now expected to have the same knowledge as those in Year 6?! Of course both the young people and the teachers are stressed! As we get older, what happens to sleep? Pah! Sleep later. It's implanted subtly at uni, though, so we think we are inflicting such expectations upon ourselves. It's not "You will finish reading two more articles then you will sleep", it's "I'll finish this, then I'll rest". Yes, arguably those who go to Oxford already have such mentalities beforehand, but the point remains that such thinking is encouraged. Success is prioritised over one's health. If someone prioritises health then they're self-obsessed. Do you agree? Do you know if you agree? If my words seem exaggeratory then...well, maybe you're right. But sometimes we have to shout pretty loud before we're heard, especially if it's shouting over something deeply-ingrained in our culture (on that note, please see my girlfriend's blog on identity and work).

Oxford is a stressful environment and I couldn't deal with the stress in my second year. Should I have just pushed on? No. In my case I was diagnosed with mental illness. It took me about 14 months to realise that life wouldn't be the same...that I'd have to rest more. At the moment, I need more rest than is available if I had 'just pushed on' at Oxford. We are not machines or gods, but humans. I'm not exhorting people to become raging anti-authoritarians, quit their jobs and live off the land. I'm exhorting everybody to listen to their bodies (and minds) and take their limits into account. Courage comes in different forms. Personally, I hope to recover so I can return in a state in which I can deal with stress. What about the meantime?

Two things about me: I get bored easily and I get (more) depressed unless I have some routine. Hence, if I am truly going to rest then I'll need to have a bit of a plan. It's unhelpful to watch too much TV/Netflix, but it's also unhelpful to do nothing but sit and (over-)think. I'll need to strike a balance. So, I plan on doing a variety of things to keep me from falling into bad habits.

I will be going to Church weekly (which hasn't happened for a while) and will be meeting up with my pastor regularly so that I'm accountable to someone with authority whilst receiving spiritual guidance. I plan on exercising regularly, combining workouts with running/cycling to get my heart going. I'm currently collecting thoughts to construct a story (there are actually a couple of hints of its style in this entry) and I'll update its progress on here. I hope to start re-improving my musical skills, on the piano, drums and bass guitar; the same goes for painting and drawing. I should see a counsellor regularly, hopefully starting soon-ish, and plan on reading my Bible and building my relationship with Jesus daily. I aim to tutor in Spanish and Philosophy over the next year (please have a look here! https://tutora.co.uk/tutors/aakp24r4) and to have a driving license by Christmas. I haven't been able to do a lot of this recently due to suffering from exhaustion (apparently sleeping 12hrs a day isn't enough) but I suppose that's where the need for balance comes in. Let's see what happens!

That's it for June. 2 Chronicles 7:14.

Thought for the month: recall the past six months; consider your worst mistakes and ways your relationship with someone/some others have improved. How can you prevent the mistakes from recurring? What can you do to allow improvements in your relationships to continue?