That's What Friends Are For

Warning: This is really honest! 

When I started writing this post, earlier this morning, it was entitled, “Why I’m So Depressed.”  Now, perhaps I wouldn’t have really posted something by that title, but that just clues you into my frame of mind at the time.  I was down.  Really down.

It’s just been one of those weeks.  For the last month Dutch has been doing this thing where he will not nap—which translates into zero free time for Mommy and endless hours of comforting, walking, dancing, rocking.  And, needless to say Dutch is not the only one crying through this.  We went to Santa Barbara this last weekend, which was great, but by the time we were headed home I was just about to snap—Dutch was exhausted and would not sleep, I was exhausted, and the last day I caught Jeff’s cold and was sick.  The next day (sorry guys, gotta mention this) began that special friend we women get that translates into a grumpy, achy, bloated, emotional, irritable, and just generally miserable girl.  Cramps and headaches on top of my sneezing, sore throat, sleepless miserable self.  The first day back from the trip was my first day of tutoring full time, and I certainly couldn’t call in sick the first week, so I dragged myself to tutoring each day this week. 

So, this was my physical and emotional state—it was not good.  On top of this, I have been struggling with feeling like a complete failure, like a loser, because we live with my parents and we’re almost 30 and for heaven’s sake shouldn’t we be a little more “successful” than that?  And here comes the part where I’m really vulnerable, the part where I reveal why I’m dysfunctional (we all are, by the way!).  I have lived my whole life in the shadow of my brother.  Yes, there I said it.  It seems so trivial and stupid, and I’m sure it is, but it’s still true.  Try being the little sister of Kris Zyp.  Not easy!  Kris was doing trigonometry at age 9.  He was taking college math classes when he was in junior high.  He scored a perfect 800 on math portion of the SAT.  He is the smartest, most athletic, pretty much most perfect person you could ever meet and I have to be his little sister.  So, I spent my childhood trying to be as good as Kris.  I have the most crystal clear memory of being probably six years old and being with my grandma.  We were at a golf course and she was introducing us to one of her friends.  She said, “This is Kris, and this is Kris’s sister.”  Kick in the gut.  I know, I should be over this by now, huh?  Well, I’m working on it.  I think it would be easy if Kris wasn’t so stinking nice and humble and godly and wonderful.  If he were a really successful heathen or a really successful jerk, it wouldn’t be so hard.  But he’s not!  I actually had a wide-awake nightmare the other day that I would get to heaven and spend eternity listening to God list Kris’s accomplishments and godly characteristics while I sat and watched.  I know.  That’s really twisted, huh?

So, why I am I bringing this up?  Well, I thought that I was over all this.  I mean, I’m 27 years old.  I really thought that since we’re now grown up and done with grades and sports and scholarships, it was all over.  I really don’t think about it anymore.  But then I got blind sighted and realized how sick I really still am.  You see, my brother and his wife are moving out of the state and he is seeking a job.  I don’t want to give all the details, but basically I feel like every day I hear from my parents about another job offer, for another ridiculously high amount of money, for my brother to be able to work from home and basically have all his dreams come true (exaggeration, I know).  But that’s what it feels like.  While this is happening I am seeing myself, with no income whatsoever, living with my parents, taking any sort of charity we can get, and I basically feel like all my life of living in his shadow has culminated at this point and I have received the final verdict of my worth: NOTHING.  ZERO.  LOSER. 

And it’s not that I am not happy for him.  I really am.  I love him so much, and I want him to succeed.  But because I am so selfish it still hurts.  It still makes it feel like a kick in the gut, the same way it felt when my grandma introduced me as Kris’s sister. And I know that it is spiritual attack.  I know that when I believe that I am worthless and a loser that I am listening to a lie.   I swear I can smell Satan’s breath right now.  But I keep falling back into this, and I think it’s exacerbated so much because of the timing—he’s at his peak while I’m at my valley.

I know the root is pride.  I know that pride is what prevents us from genuinely rejoicing in the successes of others.  I know that pride is what makes me want to be “successful” or somehow to have attained something in the world’s eyes.  And, I know that my value is not based on how much money we make or whether anyone wants to hire us or praise us.  But man, it’s sure hard to remember that!  In fact, I’d say I’m not really successful at that right now.  The lie that keeps overwhelming me is this:  “How stupid you are for being excited about any dreams or hopes or goals in life—they’re really stupid things and you are a fool for thinking that anyone would want to read your writing or hear anything that you have to say. You are playing pretend and you’re worth nothing.”  Ugh.  Gross huh?  So why do I keep believing it?  It is straight from the pit—from the father of lies. 

So where does the title of this post come in?  Well, last night I cried myself to sleep (I was really at the bottom) and this morning I was still sick, with swollen shut eyes from crying, a throbbing headache, and (of course!) a huge red zit on my forehead.  So, I’m trying to function and I have plans to meet two friends in Portland, and I’m trying to figure out a way I can get out of it because the last thing I want to do it talk to anyone.  So while I’m going through my morning, I take Dutch from my dad in order to change his poopy diaper, and my dad looks at me and says, “What happened to your head?!”  He is totally serious.  I just look at him, and he repeats, “What happened to your head?  Did you get hit or something?”  And that was it.  Tears filled my eyes and I grabbed Dutch and ran upstairs.  We managed to get out the door but through more frustrating circumstances were 20 minutes late to meet the girls. 

But then, it all changed.  These two precious friends of mine, Liz and Lyndi, came to my rescue.  Just the sight of their faces reminded me that life was not that bad.  I shared with them about my week, openly and honestly.  I told them how I was doing—I shared it all.  And, amazingly, they have similar difficulties, hardships, struggles.  They weren’t shocked at my lack of selflessness—in fact, they understood!  They didn’t try to fix me, didn’t quote Bible verses, and didn’t give me pat answers.  They listened, cared, and loved me.  They spoke the truth in love.  They cared.  And as we talked and shared we found ourselves laughing so hard our stomachs hurt.  One of them actually had her husband say to her that morning, about her zit, “What happened to you? Did you get hit in the face?!”  I could not believe that we had both had exactly the same situation that very morning.  And there was more—it was uncanny how much we shared in common.  And it reminded me of what Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 1: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”  I know that that my “tribulation” is minor, but how glorious it was to have friends who cared, who understood, who didn’t just sympathize, but who empathized! 

So, all that to say, I’m thankful for friends.  I’m not out of the woods—I still have a lot to learn about finding my value in Christ and rejoicing in the successes of others.  I haven’t arrived, but I’m on my way, and I’m sure thankful for those who walk beside me.  That’s what friends are for.  That’s the reason this post has a new title, and I have a new perspective.  Thanks Liz & Lyndi.  I love you both.