Some Thoughts on Sex, Abstinence, and God

As I was mindlessly scrolling through my Facebook page, I ran across this article:  What Happens to Men Who Stay Abstinent Until Marriage? Curious to see what I would find, I clicked and read it. I was going to just share it as a status update with my thoughts, but then my thoughts got away from me and a small blog entry happened. Here it is: 

The tl;dr version of the article is this: men who practice abstinence and talk about it end up in sexually unfulfilled marriages where they can't talk about sex and end up being unhappy about it. It's a gross over-simplification of the rather short article, so do read it. It's interesting.

I want to say that this article was respectful and it about went this with a more open mind than expected, so I'm pretty happy about that. But I didn't really like it. Forget that they come out saying that abstinence is bad--the issue for me is that they look at a group of guys who got sex wrong. 

"[T]o these men, sex is both sacred and beastly...[The] respondents had been told, since they were young, that women were nonsexual. At the same time, these men had also been taught that their wives would be available for their pleasure. It’s a double standard that’s in line with longstanding cultural ideals of the relationship between femininity and purity." 

These are Christian guys, so I think it's same to assume the church taught them that.

These guys also felt upset because they 

"could no longer reach out to their support networks due to their own ideals of masculinity. They had been promised a sacred gift: a sexually active, happy marriage. Yet many weren’t fully satisfied, as evidenced by the continued tension between the sacred and beastly. However, to open up about these continued struggles would be to admit failure as masculine, Christian man."

Now, I'm really unqualified to actually speak to this, but what I keep hearing for godly, married people, pastors, my parents, and the Bible is that sex isn't a bad thing. It's not dirty, it's not shameful, it's not evil--it's a beautiful consummation of two peoples, both in body and soul that, in the context of marriage, is right and awesome in God's eyes. There's a whole book dedicated to it that, from what I understand, in the English translations is the G version of a much sexier book. It's certainly sacred, but I wouldn't say beastly. 

I can't speak to how we as Christians should talk about sex in marriage. Women, we talk with our gal pals about it? Men, do you guys chat about it over beer? I have no idea. I figure that marriage couples should talk to each other about it, if something isn't right, yes? But honestly, I have no idea. I'll figure that out when I get there, but I figure that in some regards, talking is healthy, yeah?

Now, I could go on and on and ramble about my thoughts on the matter, but frankly, I think Tim Keller of Redeemer Presbyterian in New York explains my thoughts much better than I could. It's a 42-minute sermon, but it's beautiful and well worth a listen whether you're single, married, co-habitating, whatever. 

But what I'm getting at is that I think these guys found sex to be unfulfilling because they came at it the wrong way. They were raised to think that it's a shameful, "beastly" thing, something good people can't talk about in marriage, and I don't think that's true. It's created by God which means it must be good. It also means it can, and has been, perverted. But just because sex has been perverted doesn't mean that when it's done the way God intended it to be, that it's bad. 

What is harmful about abstinence is when we think sex is "beastly." I think that when we see sex as something beautiful, sacred, good, and from God and go into abstinence wanting to to honor God, our spouse, and sex the way God created it to be that while abstinence will be hard, that it will be worth it. I'm not saying that sex inside marriage will be perfect--from what I've heard that's not the case, but I think that it can be, should be, and is fulfilling when done the right and God honoring way.

Sorry if this has been awkward, but as I walked away from my computer to make lunch, these thoughts stuck with me and I felt like sharing them. 

Cheers. 

Never Have I Been So Wrong

This post is admittedly a day late. I wanted to write one about our last day through the last few miles of Kansas, all of Missouri, the southern tip of Illinois, down through Kentucky, and finally into Nashville, Tennessee; but, frankly, after doing all of that, I was in no state to write about it. Especially after gorging myself on a burbon, maple milkshake, tater tots with truffle oil, and one of the best ranked burgers in the state. (I would apologize for bragging about that, but I can't. It was magical, guys.) 

Now that I've had some time to digest my food (and eat more similarly wonderful food), stretch my legs, and take a whirlwind tour of Nashville, I can write.

Here's the thing--being an ignorant and awfully proud Californian, I have lived under the assumption that the rest of the Union (with the exceptions of New York City, Hawaii, and perhaps Chicago) is generally inferior to the perfection that is Southern California. Never have I been so wrong. While I still have little love for certain parts of the country (I'm looking at you, I-can-bake-cookies-in-my-car-it's-so-hot Arizona), I have developed a new found love for the Great Plains, Utah, Colorado, and the South.

Why is the flatness of Kansas so quietly beautiful? What is it about the tree lined rolling hills of Kentucky farmland that captures my heart? How do the layered, red bluffs of Utah ignite my imagination? Why do the simple woods of Illinois and Missouri beg my hand to write? Why did I envision Nashville as anything other than an unassumingly cool place to be? How is it that I could be so ignorant of such beauty in my own country?

So, though California will remain my first love, I have discovered a deep appreciation for the non-coastal states. What's more, despite it's lack of mountains and ocean, I would not be wholly opposed to living in Nashville if for no other reason than their food is a gift from God. (Seriously though. I don't want to think about how much weight I gained from even a day there.)

As my cross country trip comes to an end, I find that despite days of ten hour drives, filling up for gas two times a day, and listening to hours of alternative punk rock and 90s music, I would absolutely do this again to see more of my amazing, diverse, weird, and wonderful country. 

And I Wouldn't Walk 500 More

I am still enjoying myself, for those of you wondering - I know you're so curious about my life - despite the fact that today is a 700+ mile day through most of Colorado and most of Kansas. Now, for those of you, like myself, unfamiliar with US geography that means that we drove the beautiful, awe inspiring Rocky Mountains along the winding Colorado River through lush, green, pine covered mountain gorges reaching nearly two miles high before getting to Denver where we grabbed sushi and Voodoo Doughnuts before we then got to the endlessly flat, ubiquitous, straight road of the  Great Plains. Imagine my surprise when I realize that once you leave Denver, you've left the Rockies and all mountains behind.

I'll be honest: I was not looking forward to this part. As a So Cal native who lives surrounded by mountains, hills, and trees, who lives half a hour from the beach and an hour from a number of world wide destinations, the idea of driving through nearly the whole of Kansas in a day sounded a bit like hell.

Imagine my surprise then when I realized that  Kansas held its own sort of beauty. What's more, it somehow became more and more beautiful the further in we got. The corn covered flat lands beneath mountain clouds gave way to rolling hills of farmland dotted with trees and wind turbines like silent guardians. It lacks the loud grandeur of the Rockies or the bold majesty of Utah, but it possesses its own strong, soft beauty befitting of America's heartland. 

I thought those 400+ miles through Kansas would be miserable. I'm very happy to be completely wrong. While I Wouldn't walk another 500 miles, I might be content to drive it.

And I Wouldn't Walk 500 Miles

You know the song, "And I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more to be the man who walked 1,000 miles to fall down at your door"? Honestly, if I guy walked even 500 miles to see me, I'd probably marry him on the spot. (Or call the cops. Bit of a toss up.) I can say that because today we drove 500 miles through 4 states to get from Las Vegas to Grand Junction and so I appreciate the vast distance.

Now, not only has the music changed (we listened to "Thoroughly Modern Millie" at one point), but so has the landscape. Gone is the endless desert of harsh, tan crags and sand flats, barren and desolate. Instead, it's been replaced by red and cream colored layer cake bluffs, sometimes dotted with shrubs and pine, that sit under blue skies and Toy Story clouds. Occasionally, there is farmland with winding rivers and cute little homes, but it is predominately majestic red rocks that tower far and above the plateau to create an otherworldly beauty.

And yet it's strangely familiar. It's as if John Wayne or the Lone Ranger will appear any moment on the horizon and whisk you away on some adventure. But no movie, no photo, no jaunt through Street View on Google Maps can prepare you for it. Even though I drove the I-70 as a kid, my memories pale in comparison to the reality of the awesome majesty of God's creation in Utah.

As a single example, I offer Spotted Wolf Canyon. I was driving and so I couldn't grab any pictures, but look it up (though I doubt any picture can capture it) and see for yourself what I'm taking about. It makes Vasquez Rocks look like ant hills. Places like that make the 500 mile drive today worth it. I'm hoping that there will be similarly beautiful things to make tomorrow's 800 mile drive worth it too.

Yep. You heard me right.

800 miles.

Praise the Lord I'm not walking that.

Buckle Up, Simple Plan, We're Going on a Road Trip

Remember back in middle school when Simple Plan was a thing and we all connected with the lyrics, "I'm just a kid, my life is a nightmare" on a level we're embarrassed to admit because we were super uncool and unspeakably lame? Yeah, me neither.

I raise the pimply ghosts of years past because I currently sit next to my sister on a cross country road trip from LA to Nashville listening (and NOT singing, just to clarify) to more alternative punk rock from middle school than I think I've ever actually listened to. I'm taking Green Day, Bowling for Soup, Sum 41, My Chemical Romance, Blink-182, Simple Plan, Good Charlotte--that's right, the classics. No, I don't remember the lyrics to these songs. No, I'm not belting at the top of my lungs. No, I don't have the desire wear enough black eye makeup to look like the Winter Soldier. Why would you think that? 

I mean, there are worse things to listen to for four straight hours for the first leg of the journey to Las Vegas, right? Ah, yes, "Why are you going to Nashville, Sammy?" Glad you asked. I was beginning to feel awfully insecure and broody. (I wonder why.) My sister, Emily, and I are driving her to school in Tennessee. The car is going to stay there with her with the rest of her life that she's packed up in the back and I will hop on a plane back to LA. Of all the ridiculous things I've done this year - including flying from Venice to London, driving to another London airport and flying to Dublin in a single morning mostly by myself - this is higher up on my list of crazy.

The plan is thus: by Monday, drive over 2,000 miles through eight states, the Rockies, five major cities, and over thirty hours of driving with my little sister listening to almost every genre of music except for country and classical. The last time I did a road trip, Lizzie McGuire had finally kissed Gordo and A-Team was the music of choice. You heard me right.

Buckle up. It's going to be an(other) adventure, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, if you don't mind, I have some whiney, teenager angst to listen to and feel wildly misunderstood.

This Week Was Very Long

This morning I had to remind myself how to walk. Left, right, left, right; use the whole sole of your foot, not just the outside; one foot in front of the other, not wildly to the side; knees bent, but not too much lest you collapse onto the sidewalk--it was brutal. By the grace and strength of the Holy Spirit was I able to walk the twenty-five minute walk to my tutor's house this morning.

Before you ask, "No. No, I did not have a massive hangover." It sounds like I might've, yes, but I did not. No, this morning's trek was merely the icing on top of what was a very long week.

My plan was thus: Finish Shakespeare essay by Monday or mid-day Tuesday. Finish Tolkien essay by Thursday 1 PM. Go to my home college's mandatory weekly meet up on Wednesday. Apply for internships for summer. Edit two to three papers for publication in the Oxford Tolkien Society's 25th Anniversary Magazine that were due by the end of the week. See Imitation Game on Thursday at 2 PM. Go to Tolkien Society on Thursday at 7 PM and on Friday at 8 PM after a Tolkien talk at 5 PM.

It's a lot, but it should have been sort of doable. Maybe not the film or one of the talks, but I should have been able to do most of it.

Monday: So, my Monday's are usually pretty chill. This one was actually really great. I finished reading most my primary text for my Shakespeare tutorial, King Henry IV, Part 2, and then saw Nick Jonas - yes, that one - at the Oxford Union. It was...cool. Yeah. He's a nice guy, a bit vanilla in what he had to say about life, but nice. He does a mean Blue Steel in all his photos though. The lower lip could stand to be a bit poutier, but he's 22--he has time to perfect it.

Now, what I was planning on was having my essay mostly written so that I could devote the proper amount of time to my Tolkien tutorial's essay. For those who don't know, I have to write two essays each week. For my Shakespeare tutorial I read a play and write a 1,000-1,500 word essay (or so) on a topic. It needs to be well written, well edited, well thought out, and answer the ever elusive, "So why does this matter?" question. In addition, I have to write a 2,000-2,500 word essay on Tolkien's Lord of the Rings on various subjects that meet the same basic requirements. The Shakespeare essay is due Thursdays at noon, 24 hours before my tutorial; Tolkien at my tutorial , 9 AM Friday where I read it aloud. If it sounds stressful that's because it is. If it doesn't then keep reading and you'll understand.

Now, I really shouldn't have gone to see Nick Jonas. I mean, he's cute, but I had to stop at 5 PM rather than work till 10 PM in the library. I lost five hours. Five precious hours.

Tuesday: I return to the library at about 11 AM, grab a desk and work until about 9 PM. You read that right. (And yes, I've spent longer in the library.) I finished my text, got all my sources together and started to try to piece together an essay. While I should have had it finished, I did not. As the day wore on, the essay did not want to be written. I had what would be the worst writers block I've ever had.

By about 7 PM I had little to nothing written and felt the weight of what I needed, and wanted to get done begin to crush me. What's more, the lack of exercise due to the need to finish essays plus the 10-20 pounds of books and computers I carry a mile and a half each day had finally caught up with my back. I was in substantial pain and so had to leave early. I was, as friends to whom I whined and complained can attest, miserable.

Wednesday: I was not having the mandatory meet up so I skipped it. I stayed at home all day and wrote my essay for Shakespeare as well as took a much need day to chat with friends. A package from my Uncle Steve came in  - a much needed hand warmer for the bitter cold - and that was a wonderful gift. He could have sent me a pack of pens and I would have appreciated it. (I am SUPER happy about the hand warming though. It also doubles as a charger for my phone!) I didn't get it written until late that night, but my back and my brain were, at the moment, quite happy. It was a much needed day of merriment.

And then came Thursday.

I stayed home that day too. My back was not having the trek to and from the library, so I edited my Shakespeare essay, sent it, and began work on my Tolkien essay: a look at gender in Rings. I really started at about 12:30 PM for that. It should have been an easy essay. It's a well discussed topic, it's easy to pick on Tolkien for his lack of female characters, the elves are practically a-sexual, and then there's some people's ridiculous views on Frodo and Sam--the essay should have been easy. I should have been done by 8 PM. Maybe 9 PM.

Ah, if only.

By the time 7:30 PM rolled around I had a grand total of 0 words written. I had no thesis and scarcely an idea of what to write on. Gender criticism is something I have a massive time getting my head around. I grew up playing with both Barbies and action figures. With dolls and Legos. I did tea parties for birthdays and played flag football with the boys. I went on adventures in my head as both the sacrificing hero and the damsel in distress.

With the exception of a few areas that I won't get into - but you're more than welcome to inquire about - I feel that if you can do the job, I don't care if you're a man or woman. So long as you can do the job you're required to do, gender shouldn't matter.

What's more, while I do believe that there are certain traits that are more masculine or more feminine, both genders need some of all the traits to be a well rounded human being. I'm not for gender neutrality, but I certainly don't think that men can't cry or women can't be strong leaders.

What's more, I have to discuss this in Rings and, frankly, I don't care about it in a story context for the most part. I mean, I do. I'm not a fan of stories that make either gender second class. The ending of Taming of the Shrew pisses me off frankly. But, for me, gender in Rings isn't something I see as being totally relevant. It's a story written by a man in the 1940s and 50s about war set in a medieval sort of time. Of course there won't be a lot of women. It's just not what Tolkien was going to write. He was writing for himself--he says so in a letter.* I figure we give him a pass, accept him as a product of his time, and focus on fixing gender issues in the real world.

But that's just me. It's not a popular view I hold, I suppose, not caring all that much - not enough to write 2,000 words about it anyway -  about gender Rings, but it's how I feel. I just couldn't wrap my brain around it.

That's why yesterday I nearly had a mental break down. I cried quite a bit, had trouble breathing, and generally freaked out for about an hour (after hours of frustration and writer's/thinker's block) as the possibility of failing to produce an essay became very real.

Luckily, I have some of the greatest friends anyone could ask for. My dearests Gregg and Sarah and Meredith were kind enough to talk me through it and help me as I nearly lost it. Gregg even helped me with the thesis so that by 9 PM I had a thesis and so the writing began. Finally.

About six hours - 3 AM - later, I have just over 2,000 words written. Yay. But it was rough. Really rough. And needed lots of editing. Sarah and Gregg, being the angels from God that they are, were kind enough to edit it for me.

By 4:30 I had an essay that I could print out for my tutorial in--

Four and a half hours.

I've cut it closer...Once. And frankly, it wasn't quite as bad as this.

And so I napped for three and a half hours before stumbling out of bed, into clothes, and 1.4 miles to my first tutorial. It went as well as can be expected all things considered. It wasn't a terrible essay, but a bit repetitive and not quite as well thought out as it should have been. (I wonder why.) I then popped over to G&D's (an ice cream shop of great renown that also serves coffee and glorious bagel creations) for breakfast and coffee. After doing some quick editing for Sarah (in whose debt I am deeply in [same for Gregg]), I walked across the street (or so) to my next tutorial.

It also went alright. In G&D's, I gave that essay a once over and it really wasn't as good as I'd hoped. It was passable, an improvement upon my first three essays according to my tutor, but not as good as the last one. I thought my tutor was being generous, but I'll take it. We chatted about 2 Henry IV for an hour and a half or so and then ended.

I stopped by the Oxford Union for some Shakespeare DVDs and then popped into Poundland (the UK version of the 99 Cent Store) for some supplies before heading home. Somehow I didn't pass out before I got back home today. I meant to go to the lectures, but instead decided that my bed was more comfortable and that the Shakespeare DVDs would be more fun. (They are. The BBC's Hollow Crown series is really good. The Jesus imagery that makes The Chronicles of Narnia looks subtle aside, it is a lot of fun.)

Suffice to say, it has been a hell of a week. I am glad for the weekend where I shall be going to Bath. But, with the exception of the sleep I'll get tonight, there is no rest for the weary. Next week I have another two essays due and to be able to do justice to my Shakespeare essay, I need to have my Tolkien essay mostly done by Sunday.

Joy of freaking joys.

But what am I complaining about? I live in Oxford.

I walk across this bridge each day.

I study here.                  

                            



                                                                              I have coffee and bagels here each week.

This is my college.                                                                                                                   

                 

          I visit places like this.                                                                          

I have to walk through woods to get to my tutorial each Friday.

Look at the friend I made.                                                                               This is a complete normal, nothing special street.

 

Who am I kidding.

This is stressful. It's painful. It's mentally, emotionally, and physically taxing. But I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. Because at then end of the day, I live here:

Oh. Did I mention that it snowed a few weeks back? No? My bad. 

--

*Letter 163 from The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, complied and edited by Humphry Carpenter

This Week Sort of Sucked

I would be lying if I said this week didn't sort of suck. It's not the worst week I've had in school by a long shot, but it was really difficult. After a great weekend of seeing a protest at the Union, doing well on my essays, finding the Tolkien Society, going to see C.S. Lewis's home, and having a wonderfully relaxed Sunday of Fellowship of the Rings commentaries I woke up on Monday morning having to do two things this week:

1. Write an essay on Tolkien's use of poetry and song in The Lord of the Rings.
2. Do a close reading of a passage in Richard II.

So I got going. I'd started identifying verse in Rings on Sunday so I figured I could come back to that later. I've never actually done a true close reading of Shakespeare, but I was familiar with the concept. For those of you who aren't, I'll explain:

Essentially, you go through, line by line, word by word, and pick it apart. What does the word mean? Does it have other meanings? Does it relate to past of future stuff within the play? What are the other layers? What's the subtext? Does this reference cultural things? Religious things? Historical things? Is this word or phrase found elsewhere? What about themes? What about--what about--what about--and on and on. I didn't have to have cohesion, I just had to pick it apart.

I'll tell you now, it's as daunting as it sounds.

But I underestimated it. I read through the Shakespeare without difficulty, picked a scene with my tutor and then decided on a speech. I picked the speech, if you're familiar with the play, in Act IV, Scene I where Richard unkings himself and crowns Henry. It's twenty-two lines. Not terribly long, not unduly short, should be manageable, right?

Ha.

Now, while I readily admit that I am not some intellectual titan, I have a fair amount of intellectual stamina and endurance. But this close reading nearly killed me. It took about four hours of close reading to exhaust me to the point where my brain felt like it was going to ooze out of my ears. And I has only done five or so lines. This was Monday. It was due Thursday at noon. I had another essay to do.

Tuesday rolled around and by the end of it, I was ten lines in and at 3,800 words. My essays for my tutor, Peter, are only supposed to be 1,000-1,500 words. I'd been given some leeway to do 'much more' than normal, but this--this was madness. So I emailed him and asked if he wanted me to keep going and for a little more clarification on what he wanted.

He didn't get back to me at once, so I carried on. When he did get back to me, he said finish it and have a max of 2,500.

Now, part of me was relieved. I could stop going way down the rabbit hole like I had been, but part of me was not relieved. I had to finish it - seven or so more lines - and get it 2,300 words under where I was already at having not done those other seven lines. (So by the time I'd gotten the email, I was at 4,800.)

So, I did the only think I could do: get chocolate, Indian food, some wine, and finish the bloody thing that night. Before I started to edit, I was at about 5,500 words. By the time I finished editing, Thursday morning at about 1:30, it was at 2,700.

Attach in email. Send email. Pray brain still functions next day. Sleep.

I got less than six hours of sleep and I woke up.

I still had an entire 2,000-2,500 word essay to write on the use of poetry and song in Rings. So, embracing the British culture I kept calm and carried on. I got a large mocha with an add. shot from the coffee shop near the library, found a desk on the main floor, and began to work. I started at about 10 AM.

So. Many. Post-its.

Twelve hours, two meal breaks, another mocha, and only God know how many post-it notes later, the library hours ended and I had to leave with my essay almost finished. So I went home, cleared my head a bit, and started again. At about 12:45 AM I finished. I asked my friend, Gregg and edit it for me and by 2:30 in the morning on Friday was it done. 2,00 words exactly.

Print. Brush teeth. Sleep.

Get up in morning and go to my tutorial. My one tutorial. See, Peter, my Shakespeare tutor, had come down with the flue, rescheduled my tutorial for Monday, and assigned me a small essay on 'nothingness.' Well. Worse things could happen.

So I got up this morning and went to my tutorial. The sun wasn't shining, but it might as well have been. I liked my essay (still do, despite the issues). It was all primary sources. This was completely original. There was nothing I could find in my twelve hours in the library so I took a chance and went with all original though. And I really liked it.

That sounds vain and arrogant--it's not meant to be. I really, really just enjoyed this essay. It was about how the verse of the Elves, Hobbits, and of Rohan all speak to and inform the reader about their specific cultures. I loved it. If I could write a book on it, I would. I haven't had this much fun writing a proper essay since my film class where I wrote on Monsters, Inc. and that was two years ago.

But it was an essay that I had written in about fourteen, fifteen hours. I'm one of those people that needs more time than that to write an essay. I need day. I need time to think about it. Mull over points. Immerse myself. Really live with it for a bit before I get going. And so I missed some things. Some fairly crucial things.

I was frustrated. I could literally spend the next month looking at verse in Rings and be perfectly content about it, but I was given one day. One measly day because my Shakespeare tutorial had wreaked havoc on my brain and rendered it useless within hours.

And it wasn't worth it. What I sent to Peter was not great work. It was literally half of what I'd wanted to send to him. And even then, I'm not sure all of that was any good. So it was frustrating. My secondary tutorial almost killed me and robbed me of the time I needed to write a good essay for my primary.

As I realized all of this over the course of the next few hours, I naturally teared up, ate some chocolate, watched part of the Return of the King appendices (for the record, I only have three DVDs here with me. You get one guess what they are), and fell asleep until about 6:00 PM.

There was a Tolkien Society meeting tonight at 8:00 at Christ Church College so I showered, got dressed, and went to that. It takes twenty minutes to get there so as I walked I had a chat with myself about the day.

And as I walked all of doubts and insecurities I thought I'd moved past two weeks ago came back: realizations that I'm not that intelligent; that I have knowledge, but not intellect; that I wasn't bright enough to matriculate into this university so I came in the back way as an associate; that all the other students are studying highly intelligent things and I'm here doing Rings; that I've frankly never been all that bright or good at essays or having my own thoughts; that I'm good at reciting information, but not coming up with original thoughts; that I'd been lied to with the best intentions about my abilities; that I don't deserve to be here; that I won't ever achieve greatness; that I'll be average, ordinary; that I'm not special; that I'm not smart enough; that I'm not good enough.

Now - for the love of God - I am not fishing for compliments. While I know I'm being hard on myself about all of this, I also think that there is a bit of truth in some of it:

There are people much, much brighter than I. I've never been good at essays. I'm not really built as an academic. I can only think of one or two essays that was good and had original arguments where I wasn't parroting things back. I don't know if I'll achieve greatness. I might be ordinary.

And--it's hard. It's really hard. I want to fish for compliments, but I know that's wrong. I know that it's petty and co-dependent of me, to find my worth in what others think of me and to base my worth on people's opinions, but that does't make any of this easier.

But you know what does?

God. Because I know - even if don't always choose to believe it or if I don't always feel it - I know that my worth is not found in my essays. Or my intellect. Or my achievements. Or what I study. Or what I think. Or what other's think.

My worth is found in God. I am a child of God. I am a daughter of the King. I am loved. I have been given worth by Him. I am important. I am worth what He says I am worth. I have been gifted a wonderful brain, the best friends anyone could ask for, a family that loves my more than I can bear some days, a fantastic life full of wonder and adventure, and I am loved deeply and intimately by the Creator of the universe. The Guy who invented physics, poetry, trees, jellyfish, weather patters, plate tectonics, language, light, imagination, cells, diamonds, birds, quantum mechanics, fire, coffee--

This Guy--this Guy has given me my worth.

And so I cling to this. Because if I don't, if I don't cling to Him and His joy and love and mercy and goodness, if I don't I will be left with the certainty of those thoughts which plague me. And I know that I'm being hard on myself, that I allowed myself to sink into despair and wallow in my misery, that some of those thoughts are lies or only half of the story, that some of it, a lot of it, is pride and that I need to deal with it. So I'll deal with it.

I will wake up tomorrow and praise the Lord for the day He has made. I will find my worth and joy in Him. I will not wallow in my misery, rather I will continue on in my essays, take the criticism that is given, and get better because honestly, I'm not supposed to be writing perfect essays. Or be the smartest. Or the most intelligent. Or necessarily have all these ground-breaking, fully formed original thoughts about some of the most critically assessed works in existence--I'm here to get better and learn from some actual intellectual titans.

My worth is not found in my essays. My worth in found in the Lord God Almighty.