Today a lovely lady making me a protein shake asked if I was passionate about what I study in school. The answer is yes, I am. Very much so. When I said so, her face lit up and she said, “You know that’s what really important in life. I used to be a shell of a person. Now I love what I do and I’m excited to get out of bed every morning. All men die but not all actually live.”
I’ve heard this saying floating around, especially with my generation of millennials who love to talk about the experience. and don’t get me wrong, I am such a millennial. I love the idea that our generation cares more about what we feel and change than what we’re getting paid. BUT that does not mean I get out of bed for some kind of experience. I don’t even know why I get out of bed some days. Like today.
When I’m very depressed or anxious, I do not live for any special purpose. No matter how much I love my life, love my friends, love what I do, it is not enough to keep me getting out of bed in the morning.
and I don’t think it should be.
If you wake up in the morning for something special, it could be taken away from you. This would often happen to me as I struggled with anxiety and depression. I would wake up hoping to see a certain person until that person hurt me. I would wake up with an exciting impulse to have an adventure until the adventure was over. I would love and lose, love and lose, love and lose and I began to understand that all things you love can be snatched from you, even the things you’re passionate about.
Just because you find something you’re passionate about doesn’t mean you’re really living. You’re really living when you realize that VERY FEW things actually are eternal.
story time. When I was on the verge of insanity, the only reason I got out of bed was because my sister loved me. that was it. I know there are many people who love me. But for that season in my life, she was the only one I cared about. And every day I would sit through class, go to lunch and walk down hallways, thinking of nothing other than when I would get to see her again and be loved by here. Then the text would come, she would invite me to do homework with her or meet her for dinner and the world was right and my purpose for getting up was fullfilled.
Just because I didn’t wake up that morning excited to study culture and literature doesn’t mean I was not studying what I should. Just because I didn’t feel loved by certain friends that morning doesn’t mean they didn’t love me. Just because the only reason I got out of bed that morning was to see my sister, doesn’t mean I wasn’t really living.
Living in hell is still living.
A hurting human is still a human.
And getting out of bed to get out of bed is a victory.
DO NOT ever forget that.
I think people who live with a purpose are great. I love it. And I think I fit into that category. I am more passionate about most things than most people. But I don’t live to LIVE. I live because I am loved. I think that God calls us to life of being loved,not simply living.
All men die, all men live, and all men are loved, dear friends. That is the real purpose. To be loved.