The Return of an Idealist

I’ve been in one of those long-lasting, unhappy funks that sometimes determinedly grasp our hearts and refuse our attempts at forward motion. Mine started a little over two years ago with the living situation I was in, because I had roommates who wanted more of me than I had to give. My funk progressed into depression and despair as my dad had a heart attack, my church dissolved, my family disowned me (sort of), the boy I loved refused to take the risk, great aunts and uncles died, family scandals were uncovered, and so on and so on…

Prior to all of those dominoes tipping into one another, I was growing and content to greater degrees than I’d ever experienced. I was the idealist who trusted in the truth of invisible, sovereign blessings, and couldn’t believe anything unfortunate actually existed in this world. I saw all obstacles as opportunities; all storms as springtime showers; all of life’s difficulties as misunderstood blessings.

Now, even though I’ve spent the last two to three years climbing out of mild depression and fear certainty that I’m a disappointing sort of person, I’m not sure that a truly optimistic heart ever loses its sense of hope. I may have been consumed with the task of putting out life’s fires and solving its problems, but I don’t think I have it in me to forget that the tunnel will end… even if I can’t see that light we all search for, I’m confident that if I only put one foot in front of the other, I’ll eventually come out on the other side (if my students read this, they would be highly disappointed in my reckless use of cliches here, but too bad).

This weekend, the lovely Eucalyptus Biscuit said some vows and got hitched, which was beautiful and wondrous, and I’m so happy she included me in her day.

Eucalyptus Biscuit is one of the previous roommates, and while her wedding was so important for her and her fella’, I think it may have been equally important for the people it brought together.

As one of those friends who I felt wanting more than I had to offer, Eucalyptus Biscuit has been a looming concern of my funk. There were times when I knew she was frustrated with me for one reason or another (sometimes my fault, and sometimes not), and then there were people stirring the pot with hearsay I was trying to ignore. And it was an odd stresser in my life to know that things weren’t quite right with her, so I’ve slowly been trying for a happy ease for our friendship, and being able to love her through her wedding gave me a nice sense of peace with that.

Additionally, the other roommate was in town to witness the nuptials and I also got to see that young man who didn’t take the risk. With Amy, I was glad to hear about friendships she’s been forming in Germany and to know that she and I can still talk about Assassin’s Creed with fond humor. With him, I was blessed with several moments of quiet confirmation that I’m okay with how things worked out, like when I hugged him without that sense of annoyance that he never lets go when he ought to. He’ll come around for the HIlst/Katie bday party, stirred up by the wedding with renewed affection for the friends he once chose, and then I suspect he’ll slowly fade from our lives, only to pop up again as each of us singles tie the knot.

Because that’s one of the beautiful things weddings do for us. They remind us of a time of yore, way back when so-and-so was the best friend we’d ever had, and things were simpler. For a brief moment in time, weddings reunite scattered elements that meant so much. We dance and forget, much as if we’re living a beautiful masquerade inside a snow globe… with the the enchanting goblin king weaving a reality much better than the true battle through the labyrinth.

(Twelve points to those of you who understand that last allusion, there.)


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