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.