The Pier

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders [DSM-IV-TR 300.7], a person who is diagnosed with Body Dysmorphic Disorder believes that their body is somehow wrong or defective, even if they meet normative standards of health and appearance. It is common for people with this disorder to construe warnings and concern for general health as encouragement. Much like someone suffering from Anorexia-Nervosa or other eating disorders (which are commonly co-occuring), they can interpret comments such as "you need to gain weight", "you are getting too skinny", or "you look unhealthy" as affirmations of their current lifestyle.

Fortunately, I do not have Body Dysmorphic Disorder, or any other eating disorder for that matter. Instead, the phrases I often hear are "you need to take a break", "you are doing too much", or "you look exhausted". These comments affirm my lifestyle, which I would argue is just as destructive.
I put 'hard work' and 'diligence' on a pedestal, and they became my source of meaning.
I could never be "wrong" or "worthless" as long as I was trying my hardest. My value was so invested into working as hard as I could, that I didn't realize how unhealthy it was.

Call it fortunate or unfortunate, but I finally realized my limit. After years of trying to juggle as many things as possible, I finally broke.

I was already managing a rental property, attending school full-time, and working a job, but when I started up my year internship, the careful balancing act came tumbling down. From that time on, I realized I couldn't do it. I knew that whatever happened, I never wanted to experience this amount of chaos again (especially self-induced).

If I wanted to continue on, which I did, I had to compromise. I allowed my 'A's to slip to 'B's, I took on fewer extra projects at work, and I allowed more time for myself. It was one of these evenings by myself that I wound up here:

The Grand Haven South Pier

After facilitating a particularly difficult family therapy session at my internship, I decided to cancel my evening plans (which consisted of some food and several chapters of class reading) and drive in the dead of winter for a frigid walk on the pier. I stopped by my desk at the Grand Rapids Press to grab my YakTraks (because ice doesn't care about your feelings)...

Even with the added traction, this was a decently stupid idea. For those unfamiliar with this pier, the catwalk in the middle is 16 feet tall. The ice formations were so high, I could easily touch the top of the structure. However, these ice formations also resulted in a steep drop into the open water with no hope of ever climbing back up. If I were to choose one of Leonardo Dicaprio's many deaths as my 'way to go', Titanic would not be my first choice.

Walking the length of the pier was icy, windy, and treacherous - but so very worth it. At night, the silence experienced at the end of that pier quieted my soul in a way it hadn't been allowed to be in a long time...
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I still have to walk my own 'pier' for a little bit longer. In May, I will be finishing my school and internship as well as leaving my job at the Grand Rapids Press. From there, I hope to quiet my soul, and dive into the open waters of whatever God has prepared for me. In May, this blog will serve as a story of my leap, and until then, these posts the prologue. Ultimately it is for my benefit, but if anyone else attains something from it, or is at least entertained, I'll consider it gain. 

Here's to piers, and the promises they bring.
- Patrick