I've been Tebow-ed

December 11, 2011

I feel anxious. There is all of this terror in my head and heart. I am scared that I totally squashed my chances of getting the things from life that I truly wanted. How did I do that? By making loads of bad decisions; the kinds of choices that my generation has deemed acceptable. Drunkenness, promiscuity, and all of the trappings therein. Now, I know what you're thinking, and, no. I have not recently been diagnosed with an incurable STD, nor am I newly out of treatment for any sort of addiction. What brought on these feelings of inadequacy is watching football.

I live in Denver, Colorado. Broncos country. The bumper sticker says it all: "How do you know God is a Broncos fan? Why else would the sunsets be blue and orange?" Why, you might ask, did being a Broncos fan - albeit a new fan to both the Bronco's and to football in general - stir up such negative emotions? Two words: Tim Tebow.

Tim Tebow is a marvelous person. He handles even the most awkward of situations with enviable grace, and poise. He is always thankful for his situation, and the ability to positively affect even one person. He is surely never drunk, and is saving himself for marriage. So, where does that put me? Lower than pond scum. I am a girl that has likely spent years of her life drowning in a pool of whiskey-ginger, months in relationships I had no business starting, let alone continuing, and further days and hours trying unsuccessfully to gain happiness by drinking, making out with strangers, and forcing myself - in the most ungainly fashion - into some semblance of contentment.

Where did I go wrong? I hate to admit it, but I think my mother was right in her seemingly cruel criticism a few weeks back. She said that I have wasted a full ten years of my time, salary, and energy by drinking and being wild, "and, what do you have to show for it?" she asked. There are certainly a few glimmers sparkling in the muck I have been wallowing in over the past few years. I have met some incredible people, gone to amazing places, and seen bazaar and exciting things. But the question remains: What do I really have to show for it? Was the intrigue worth the heartache? I have a "number" I don't even know, far too many nights that were stumbling and stupid, and shattered bits of the person I had hoped to be. I made all of these decisions and yet, I can't un-do, and I can't un-see, and I most certainly cannot keep living the life I have been living for the past decade.

The real question, then, becomes how do I glue together the remaining shards of that innocent, content, and untainted girl? I know that if I figure it out, there will be cracks, there will be missing pieces, a fact I am happily resigned to. But, I want to glue as many of the pieces back as I possibly can. What is the adhesive? Where do I find it? How much does it cost? Who will help me? And, most importantly, where do I start?