There is a beautiful, tall eucalyptus tree about three hundred metres down the street. It is perched just off the road as you go around the last bend. I don't know much about trees and I am not much of a gardener, but I know three things about this particular tree.
1. The tree has that stunning pink-tinge bark that lights up during dusk.
2. The tree, despite having a solid trunk, diverts at a sharp angle. This rogue top half has put the tree under so much strain that any day the whole tree may uproot and topple over.
3. Never have I prayed so much for a tree to come crashing down.
This tree is a reminder of an awful time in my life. It marks a time of real sadness and vulnerability. This tree is not only a reminder and a marker of my depression, but it was also the exact thing calling out to me as I drove past, ‘I can give you Heaven’. At times it would yell and scream at me ‘Heaven can be a reality for you in a matter of seconds!’ Other times, it would just silently glare at me.
As I drove towards this tree, I would find myself in a mental tug-of-war. My hands would tighten around the steering wheel. My throat would stiffen. My stomach would ache. It felt as if my foot was just waiting for the authorisation from my brain. Waiting, almost itching, for the permission to increase the throttle as I drove in the direction of the eucalyptus. Meanwhile, my brain would be absorbed in a scattered debate with itself.
The relief, yet the pain.
The beginning of true life, yet forfeiting this one.
The arrival of peace, yet hurting others. Becoming sinless, yet enacting this final sin.
Clearly, something stopped me from driving into this tree. But each time I drove past, I entered into a battle with myself.
Now when I walk past the tree its voice is not as loud. But every now and then as I drive home I notice it. It is still there. Still giving me a way out, or more accurately, giving me a way home.
'I am easy going'. That is how my family describes me. Being the youngest of four, I was always happy to tag along. Whether it was watching my older brothers play soccer on a Saturday morning or sitting in the 'back-back' seat of the 1998 Toyota Tarago as we travelled to Coffs Harbour. Apparently, I wasn’t phased by moving houses from Collaroy to North Epping. I also remember at the age of 8 just walking around aimlessly in a Thailand street market. It was almost midnight and I was hovering between being awake and sleep walking as I followed my family around. Even my mum was saying ‘just stay up a little bit later Nath’.
No fuss. No qualms. Happy to just go with the flow.
Don’t get me wrong I wasn’t always chill. I was pretty needy when it came to sleeping over at friend’s houses. I was way too old before I could spend the night away from home. Luckily I became comfortable with sleepovers before marriage. I also hated the beach growing up. In particular, the speedo chafe. I would complain and grumble about how sore my 'upper thighs' were as we walked back to the car.
However, overall I somehow came to be known as the chill, easy going little brother. I didn’t mind this label at all. In fact, I tried to embrace it. This only became an issue on my 19th birthday.
At some point during family celebrations we adopted a tradition we call, ‘Woohoo, Boohoo and Guru’. This is when we take turns sharing something we have enjoyed (Woohoo), something that sucks (Boohoo) and something we have learnt (Guru). An additional part of this tradition is affirming each other. I have always loved this tradition.
On my 19th birthday each family member went around and affirmed characteristics they saw in me. And surprise surprise, my family loved my easy going nature. How chill I am. How I was always willing to just go with the flow. However, this time it got under my skin. Because, I was hiding the fact that I was suffering, I was hurting and I felt so needy.
A couple of months before my birthday I began to notice a change in my mood. In particular, there were more and more situations in which I had begun to tear up with no direct event causing the emotion. So often as I locked the bathroom door for my shower, I would be overcome with negative emotion. I would be doubled over with sadness. Scrunching my face and tensing my fists in an attempt to control what was going on. But tears would escape. What was going on! Stop being so dramatic! You are so needy! Anxiety was running crazy within my stomach. Trying to keep each sob quiet, not wanting anyone to hear. I was a wreck. Why was I so sad? I had no idea - I just was.
I was changing but I could not stop it. These low moods were becoming more and more frequent. A common place of this immense sadness was in my car after soccer training. I would sit in my parked Yaris and wait until my teammates had left before just losing control over my emotions. Deeply acute pain. Feeling so alone. So disconnected. As this went on I began to feel incredibly hopeless.
It was during this time, in this pain, that I began to murmur to myself, ‘I want to stop this… Stop this… Get me out of here.’ It was here that I realised how close Heaven is. If acted upon, Heaven could be just a number of seconds away. On occasion I would hold my breath or place my head under the water during a bath. Not so much that I caused myself any pain, but just enough to show me that it could be done. I was flirting with the idea and I was finding it hard to stop. After all, Heaven was just on the other side of the curtain.
My mind would wander to the warmth of Heaven. Not in the wishy-washy sense of Heaven but in the tangible and physical reality that Christians hope in. A restored creation. A perfected body. A mind at peace. The embrace of a heavenly father. 'Welcome home, good and faithful servant.' At rest. Content. On my knees with my hands raised. Walking down the aisle towards my saviour. Elated with joy. Seeing loved ones. Meeting family that I never had a chance to meet here on earth. The relentless love of God being unleashed.
My mind would then drift to what won't be in Heaven. No more temptation. No more disappointing God. No more letting Him down. No more hurting both Him and those around me. No more sadness. No more secrets. No more weakness. No more stress. No longer homesick. No more sin.
I would pray for this to become a reality in the present. I had no doubt that one day I would be in Heaven. But, I so desperately wanted it now. On a number of occasions when it was late and I couldn’t shake this desire for Heaven, I would get on my knees and tearfully plead with God. 'Please, let me wake up in Heaven’. As I made these requests to God, I felt ashamed and thought it was selfishness fuelling these desires.
Looking back now, I see that it may not have been pure selfishness. I now see that what I longed for more than anything was for God to be proud of me. I wanted to be in a place where God could love me. Because I was under the horrible impression that God was disgusted with me. That he was putting up with me. Looking at me with begrudging apathy. A God tired of being hurt. A God filled with anger. A God completely offended by my sinful desire for Heaven.
And so, the logical next step would be for me to bring about Heaven where I would be finally perfected. In Heaven I would be clean and worthy of love. I would be doing God a service. One less sinner in the world. Finally, I would be worthy of His affection and delight. I would no longer be a disappointment to the God that I so desperately wanted to please.
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