Confessions: Ch. VIII - Pride

Depression was my out.
It was my way of justifying myself.
I wasn't a loser, just screwed up.
I convinced myself I was not up to the task of being all that I can be due to some vague lack of a prerequisite: I was simply not geared towards the ways of this world.

All around me I saw people who were having good fun lives that were well worth boasting about.
I had nothing to boast about.
I clung to the one thing I had: my perceived exceptional nature to the world. I was never meant to be like everyone else, and hence predestined to be lonely and unhappy.

It gave me strength, in a twisted away, to get through the days, but it also distanced myself from God.
Yes, I thought much about Christianity and God, but only with a fool's superficial understanding of it.
In fact, I became convinced I could not be forgiving for my sin of being a loser.
God gave me this life and I squandered it. The best chance I had to right this was to suffer it, so that when I meet God I can say, "At least I was very aware of my wastes!"

Eventually, God got around to correcting me of my misconceptions.

Due to my twisted mind, poor judgment and desperate need to actually "get a life", I went out one night and started drinking.
It was not the first, or last, time I drank. But it was the first time I drank whiskey. I had hard stuff before, such as rum and vodka, but whiskey is a different animal.
It nearly killed me...literally.

I woke up the next morning in my house with no memory how I got there.
When I never returned the night before, my parents retrieved me.
Even as I write this I feel the horrible pangs of shame; the scare I gave my friends and parents.

Once it was made clear by all involved that I was forgiven, then a different kind of shame overcame me.
I felt ashamed of what basically suicidal behavior; suicide by ignorance for sure, but just as good as any other mode.
And then at that very moment, I also felt great to be alive, for the first time since I was a little boy before this whole adolescent angst business.

The feeling of joy to be alive, when I was convinced I deserved to lose my life was breathtaking.
I didn't deserve it, but I was given a second chance.

I suddenly realized I allowed the opinions of society to convince me that I was a loser, and a waste of life.
What kind of fool would believe in such a thing?
Especially when such a belief can lead to death!

I tell you how it happens: pride.
My pride was wounded by the world's judgment.
Because I was too weak to do anything about it, I simply wore that judgment some-kind of "mark".
Because of my refusal to actually improve myself, or really learn the ways of God and reject the world, I clung onto a twisted, perverted pride that fed off of this Tragic Hero image I had of myself.

It may have kept me together in the eyes of some, but it nearly led to my death.
It clearly wasn't a good idea.

Hence I let go of my depression and angst after this incident and walked in grace: the state of being given a second chance, to move on with life and to not judge myself by the way the word judges.

I also learned a lot about the nature of pride.
If God really hated me as much as I thought, He would have let me die that night and be done with it. Instead, He gave me a second chance.
Pride is the attempt of human beings to be like God. It can be done many different ways, one way is this pathological Catholic Guilt: the belief that we have a sin that is too big to be forgiven by God.
Allow me to restate that: something is too big for God to deal with? He's God!
How foolish is Pride to think that we human beings have something that can rival God's power!

Things were going to be different for now on: no more beating myself up for anything the world snubs its nose at in me!
I'm not going to hate myself but love myself, regardless of whatever it is that I was.
I noticed an immediate burst of energy: I attacked work and duties with good cheer and zeal.

I was Born Again.
But I was still human.
Still imperfect.