There are lessons in the pain, there’s growth in the pain, there’s empathy gained in the pain, and there’s aneedfor him in the pain. There’s always a purpose in our pain.
I’m still slowly coming to terms with that realization myself. Every time a breakthrough comes out of my pain, every time I end up in the right place at the right time because of my pain, and every time I see my growth happening through the pain, I get a little peek into his plan. I have no idea what his end goal is for me, but just being able to let go of what I thought the process should look like, and all of my expectations, has been freeing in itself. It takes this weight and disappointment away that can keep you from the healing that needs to happen.
I love being able to share that part of my testimony—still in progress obviously—on nights like tonight—Blue Light Night. An event we put on for guys on campus to come and be a part of. A night to just let go and let out anything you’re struggling with or trying to heal from. Taking away this toxic masculinity mask put on men in our culture to keep everything inside, to not complain, not cry, not feel, and in turn never heal, never be the healthy version of yourself, never break generational cycles of pain.
We’ve tried to create a safe space for guys to be able to speak, share, and connect with each other. They’re hosted several times throughout the year on a weekend night, in hopes of giving someone somewhere better to be than getting wasted and partying. This is the last one before summer break, usually the biggest one.
Erik shoulders the door to the community room in our building, and I hit a couple of the small light switches, keeping it pretty dim in the room still. He tosses me a couple of bags of supplies, and I place them on the counter to go through.
“How have classes been going?” he asks, making small talk as we set up.
“Yeah, good…really good. It was pretty rough in the beginning; a lot of my own stuff has honestly been forced up that I tried to run from and ignore for so long, but I’m now kind of at the point where it’s obvious that that’s not the way to get better. It only makes the bad parts louder and stops any progress. Plus, if I’m going to be a therapist worth anything, I kinda gotta do the work myself that I want to help other people do, right?”
Erik nods, giving me that look like he’s impressed. “So, after graduation. You still thinking grad work?”
“I think so,” I tell him, throwing a couple of things into the fridge for later. “Maybe a couple of seminary counseling courses, trauma-focused mostly…I don’t know. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m really liking the support group I’m doing for my clinicals right now. I mean, dang, I think it’s been helping me more than I think I’ve been helping them, honestly. The people I’ve met, stories I’ve heard, conversations I’ve had…it’s really made me feel like I’m finding my purpose in the field. It’ll be cool to do others in my classes next year, explore other areas of focus.”
Ever since I came back from Christmas break, I’ve been trying, likereallytrying, to start healing. Some days, the darkness still wins. Some days it doesn’t. But that’s what progress looks like. It still hurts, just not…all the time anymore.
He softens when he hears that. I can see it in his expression. “I’m proud of you, man,” he tells me. “Proud of how far you’ve come. It’s crazy to think that the guy I met freshman year is the same guy standing in front of me now.”
I roll my eyes, a little amused at that. “Okay, now, not too much. I wasn’tthatbad.”
Erik raises a brow at me. “You sure? Maybe you just don’t recall all the nights you’d stumble back into the dorm with some random chick, and I’d have to literally sneak out so I wouldn’t be front and center for how you were about to defile my personal space, and then I’d come back to you passed out for the entire next day. I can’t tell you how many times I had to kick out some of those girls who would just linger around and—”
I wave a hand in the air for him to stop. “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point.”
We both start laughing, and he walks over, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Fine. Point is, the growth is impressive, and it’s only the beginning, man.”
“Well, I honestly don’t think I could have gotten here if it wasn’t for how many times you pushed me to do better, or how many times you told me to just give it to God, and I just rolled my eyes at you. You never gave up on me, so I can’t give up on myself either, you know?”
“I did it because I was there once, too. And I’m glad I could be that to someone for you. You know…she’d be proud of you,” he tells me, and it comes out so matter-of-factly, so easily. And you know what? For the first timeever, hearing her be mentioned doesn’t make me angry, doesn’t make my stomach drop, doesn’t make me want to shut down. It…it actually feels good.
“I hope so.”
Erik drops another duffel on the counter in front of me. “I’m gonna call the guys, tell ’em to hurry up and get here to help, because these chairs aren’t going to set themselves up. Yell if you need me.”
“Got it.”
I’m pulling supplies out to set up when I hear a buzzing noise, like a phone vibrating nonstop.
“Yo, is that your phone losing its mind?” I ask, looking up to where Erik is standing.
He pulls the phone back from his ear and points at it, shaking his head in an ‘obviously it’s not mine’ way. He heads for the hallway, and the buzzing keeps going. Mine’s on the counter in front of me. Quiet.
Not mine.
It still doesn’t stop, and I can’t focus. I try to pinpoint where it’s coming from, following the sound to the back corner of the large room. There’s a small area tucked in the back with two couches and a TV that students rarely ever use. The small lights we have on and the night sky right outside the window spill in just enough for me to see someone lying on one of the couches, hair spilled over the side.
Someone had a time, I guess.
Happens. People pass out in the main part of the common room all the time, actually. Late study nights, small kickbacks people use the space for, or just them sometimes trying to get peace from their wild roommates.
“Hey,” I say softly, already reaching for the closest lamp’s pull-chain. “We’re about to set up in here. You good? Need any help, or—”
The lamp flicks on, and her face glows in the light.
I know that face.
