Whoever said Mind Over Matter clearly didn’t live through 2020. Much like this unprecedented year-that-feels-like-a-decade, my time at Karis has been both endless and fleeting; consuming yet boundless; inspiring and yes, at times, defeating. However, even in these most trying times, I am reminded of one principle that remains truer than ever: Karis provides rich, nourishing soil to accelerate growth and build a sustainable foundation.
Before I jump into what I’ve learned at Karis, some personal context is helpful. I was born and raised in Denver and attended Graland and Colorado Academy. By most standards, I was given every tool I needed to succeed. I did well in school, played sports, and was involved on campus. “Well-rounded,” as they say! It wasn’t until I was in college that a completely unexpected battle with depression led to a full diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. I am beyond fortunate that my mental illness does not overlap with trauma, addiction, or other personality disorders. That also doesn’t mean it’s been an easy ride. My story is proof that even the most likely to succeed-type student(s) with the resume to match can crash and burn. Here’s what I’ve learned in my latest chapter of picking up the pieces:
By showing up for each other, we show up for ourselves.
I’ve learned that support comes in unusual and often unexpected forms. The emotionally raw breakdown of a resident with whom I previously had nothing in common (other than sharing the same address) suddenly leads us to find mutual respect, perhaps even admiration, for journeys unknown. As many Karis residents will tell you, it’s the late-night impromptu chat in the kitchen or morning walk around the neighborhood that organically cultivates our sense of community. I’m a firm believer that a genuine smile can ‘crack’ a bad day (smile through your mask!), or a helping hand with dinner or chores can show solidarity. By showing up for each other, we show up for ourselves.
I’ve learned that diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging matter more than ever before. We live in a country that’s not only increasingly polarized but also increasingly taught to think in purely binary terms: Left versus Right, facts versus disinformation, urban versus rural, masks versus freedom, and the one we’re all guilty of, “I’m right, and you’re wrong.” Despite the polarization that exists around us, Karis is a model example of diversity across all spectrums, particularly ones we don’t often discuss in the outside world. From education level to income, family background to disability, Karis serves as a place where all are welcome. I’m also proud to say 100% of our residents voted this year! Civic engagement is my tool of choice for building bridges rather than walls. As a country, we can do better by bringing more voices to the table; Karis is already leading that charge by example.
Most importantly, I’ve learned to trust the process even when things go awry. Living with 15+ people isn’t easy in any environment, let alone one with the compounding effects of mental illness and addiction. It’s never easy living at Karis, but of course, that’s the point. I used to loathe the expression Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (small to me could be huge to someone else), but it’s become my mantra at Karis. I can only control my actions – and reactions – not the ones of others around me. The daily grind at Karis can sometimes feel like micromanaged minutiae, but it serves a higher purpose: we all need structure and routine to thrive.
Outside of Karis, I’ve learned a lot from my hobbies. My lifelong passion for commercial aviation has taught me two things: planes don’t crash in turbulence and, in the words of Henry Ford, “When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” In other words, we learn and grow by embracing – perhaps ultimately owning – our struggles.
Sam R.
Community Member