And So It Begins

Last night, I dotted the last i on my Student Missionary Application. I've started the process of committing my life to nine months of volunteer work in a foreign country. Am I crazy? No, I'm passionate. Am I excited? Yes, more than I have ever been before. Am I scared? Yes, more than I have ever been before; honestly, I think it's a healthy fear.

I've been planning to go as an SM since I was six years old, and that's not an exaggeration. My dad took a group of his students to Fiji when I was in the first grade (or maybe even before - I don't remember exactly) and when they came back with all their stories and pictures and new attitudes, I knew I wanted to be a missionary. Both my parents had served as SM's - my dad in Thailand and my mom in the Marshall Islands - and it was natural for me to follow in their footsteps. I planned my year of service all during elementary, middle and high school and now that I'm in college, I can finally go. I have a physical, daily countdown (set for September 1 for simplicity); today marks 172 days left. I'm nervous, excited and distracted from school with the dreams running through my head.

Despite my enthusiasm and long-time wish for this moment, everything has not been the perfect preparation I thought it would be. To be completely honest, the application packet sat on my desk for weeks, untouched, while I performed a Shakespearean play and then caught up in school. When I finally remembered it, I started filling in each blank with gusto, until I came to the bottom of the first page. I was asked to rate my physical, mental and spiritual health.

The form sat on my desk for another month, glaring at me, and whispering doubts were behind my daily thoughts. I was now terrified of that form.

You see, I have seasonal affective disorder - cycles of depression depending on the weather. It's been with me since I was at least 15 and the last five years have seen some fantastical highs and devastating lows. But I have learned to love myself despite the anxiety and deep sadness I feel, at times, for months. I've found that summers and sunshine and outdoor freedom help a lot and that winter and rain and indoor prisons do not. I've learned that I can fight it if I choose, or I can let it destroy me. Who I am today is a complex, beautiful person and S.A.D, at this point, is a part of that. It's getting better and I'm healing, but I'm not perfect and that's why the application form was just sitting on my desk again.

If I was going to be completely truthful on that form, I would have to rate (out of five) my current mental health at a three, and maybe even a two at times. Physical health - easily a four and spiritual health - a three or four, but mental health can get pretty low and that's where my doubts came from.

What if I can't go because I'm 'mentally ill'? 
What if they make me go to counseling and people look at me differently?
What if I lied and said I was fine?
What if I got there and the experience was terrible because the depression got really bad?

What if I really just wasn't good enough to be an SM?

I fought with my questions and my doubts for a month, praying, crying and yelling at God, asking why He had given me a dream that was in danger of shattering because He also made me suffer depression. Was one pain not enough? Did I deserve to lose this dream? Was being depressed my fault?

I never got a final answer - still haven't actually. It frustrates me, but I'm choosing to move past that. I've decided to go. And I've decided to be honest. I know that I have to leave this country and help those who have absolutely nothing and no amount of doubt is going to stop me. I'm a stubborn girl and I'm not giving up on this one thing I've wanted since I was six. 
God has given me a drive for service and the ability to act on it. So if He can use people like doubtful Gideon and suicidal Elijah, then He can use a sometimes-depressed college girl from Canada to do amazing things.

And so it begins.