Happiness Looks a Lot like Sorrow

There really is nothing to say. I have had a rocking good weekend, but it always seems like the things that should make me feel good...well they don't. They make me feel fishbowly. And I think back over every word I said, every move I made, and criticize the curlingiron outta myself. And I mousetrapping hate it. Hate, hate, hate it. I beat myself up over the stupidest of inconsequential things, then beat myself harder over beating myself up in the first place. Sometimes I want to sink into the ground and just have the air compressed out of my chest so I can't feel it anymore. I hate walking into a room alone. I hate fending for myself in conversations I didn't necessarily choose. I despise myself for wanting things I hate with good reason. I was doing so good today, for the first time in weeks. Back at square one.

Cuttingboard.

Like I said...there really is nothing to say.

It's Gonna Bring Me to My Knees

This is all so much more than my heart can stand. I don't like spending my spare time remembering how such-and-such a guy broke my heart, and that one lied to me, and that one did things I cannot even mention in my head let alone out loud. I'm not to the point of enjoying dragging out my deepest secrets and word-vomiting them onto paper, where, if they somehow fall into the wrong hands, they could destroy my life. There is no satisfaction in saying in detail how I've hurt the closest people in my life. And all of this makes it so incredibly difficult to do the other things I need to do...like papers, journals, readings or memorizations; these things that count a heck of a lot for my grade, but cannot trump what counts most for my heart's healing.

With every thing I write down, my walls come down with the words. I am shaken by every snide remark, by every well-meant comment that hits just the right hurt, and how they so easily bring me to my knees. But even all this is not enough. The other expectations - some of which I definitely take the blame for and others which I cannot get over - are crushing me. It is not that I want to break the rules, but I need air. I need to feel like I can breathe.

I'm a really claustrophobic person. I remember the day it started. I was playing hide-and-seek at my house and I hid in the bathroom hamper. Someone sat on it and wouldn't let me out. Ever since then, the strangest things bring me right back to that place. These regulations makes me feel exactly the same way.

Christmas is coming up. Finally. Maybe it seems like so long because I don't remember last Christmas, or because it smells like snow and I can't recall the last time I smelled air this crisp. I want to enjoy it. I want to wake up Boxing Day and remember the day before. So what do I need to do now to ensure what will happen then?

I need to relinquish my tight hold on my GPA. I have to do whatever it takes to stay in school...namely, not rebelling. I have to set a pattern in my days so that each one has meaning I can see, and so that some of the clutter in my mind can be organized as well. I need to quit wishing for things I cannot and never will have. I need to clear up my money stuff so that it's not over my head. I need to go to church, not just Young Adults. I have to forgive the people who have hurt me, let them off the hook, and just let go. I must, under any and all circumstances, continue with my Bible reading plan. And above all else, I need to seek God in every circumstance.

Oh God, please give me the strength I need. This is not going to be easy...not by a long shot.

Gravity, Stay the Hell Away from Me

Gravity...chicken...spiders...baristas...pretty much everything.

I don't know how to convey words I'm singing. So, um, if I drag out letters, consider it singing. Please sing it to yourself, keeping in mind the duration of the prolonged letter. This will bring me great joy.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii waaaa-ha-aaaaant tooooooooo-ooh-hoo-hooooooo peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeace outta-heeere / breaaaaak aaawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay from-what-is-so-neeear / So I can have myyyy caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake / That-I-made-while aaawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake / And-eat-it tooooooooooooooooooooo / My darling, I'm sooooooooooo ooover yooooooooooooooooooooooohoooooooooohooooooooooooooou

I'm practically delusional. Please take it for what it iiiiiis.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry

I am learning to let go all over again. Passing classes has to be enough. Surviving the day needs to be worth celebrating. Not doing all the shoulds and musts of my life is not an embarrassment. Feeling alone right now is not a disgrace. Not feeling God, even when I spend time with Him, is only one word: perseverance.

This week, under any other lens, looks like failure. This last year, without the right focus, appears to have kept me at a stand-still.

I am hopelessly, utterly, completely alone. And I am okay.

I am afraid and empty. But look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. It's a testimony that He is there even when I, small insignificant me, do not feel His presence.

Every Time I Look at You It's like the First Time

Lately I have been discovering hidden truths I have always believed, based on my interpretation of experiences, that may or may not be true. Tonight another one popped up, and it was not until the opposite was stated that I realized how often this lie has been the premise for so many of my actions.

Lie: Men are shallow. They do not have deep feelings. There are mythical men who have real emotions, but they are always getting slaughtered by women without hearts. A man could never care about me as much as I care about him. I cannot break a man's heart because he doesn't have one; even if he feels a sting, he'll be over it in a week (and by over it I mean in some other girl's hot tub). I have to just be okay with settling for someone who will never understand my feelings or experience the same level of love I have for him.

I started typing out the "truth" that was given to me tonight, but I felt stupid. Writing "all of the above is a lie" actually made me feel duped.

So where do I go from here?

I was just at a service with 50 other young adults hearing about relationships and being told to meet people "just in case," but I have never felt less like being someone. I was sitting there, actually kind of confused, because there was no pull to be with a guy. At all. Zero. But I don't know how to fix what is broken without someone showing me that I, all along in fact, have just been using the freaking eggbeaters the wrong way. You get my drift? I don't want someone perfect, but I want a man who will prove that I was wrong. That even if he makes me frustrated beyond belief and never puts the dishes away right and always buys skim instead of whole milk because he thinks it's healthier, he will feel for me deeply. Is that too much to ask?

Some other little tidbits I picked up tonight:

• If the past is not dealt with now, it will leak into the future. Duh...but I'd never heard it stated quite that way before.
• A warning sign that says it's time to get out: if there's any level of compromise (settling for something you don't believe in because you're not yet ready to fight for what you do).
• Women have 10x the touch receptors that men do!

That last one especially was a big learning curve :)

Thought of the day:

He will show up, one day. And when he does, he will feel things. He will choose to see past the crap and be willing to risk his heart on me. I can only hope that I am able to keep his heart safe the way I am trusting him to do with mine.

That's the Way I Loved You

Today I slept. Period. I woke up for brunch, went back to sleep, and woke up for dinner. I planned to do five hours of homework, but instead read 50 pages from one book.

I am slipping into old patterns. I am not who I want to be.

You were wild and crazy.

I am shutting down; not of my own volition, but by nature. I have stopped being in control, I think.

Just so frustrating.

I had months go by that never imprinted in my memory. I call them the "dark days." I am beginning to see echoes and it's scary.

Intoxicating.

I need something to excite me to full consciousness before it is too late. I need to feel alive.

Got away by some mistake.

One day I will stop blogging again, too. That will signal defeat. Not of my own volition, but by nature; self-preservation will have kicked in and it will be too late.

Broken Lights on the Freeway

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.

I want to be that strong person again. It's all selfish; I want to be admired, praised, commended. Instead He is leaving me in a place of absolute humility. I am down on the floor and cannot feel Him at all.

I don't want to have to be strong anymore. Not really. It's so much effort to keep my head up, hold the tears back and hide the words screaming to be let out.

So then it comes down to fear. Today I could not stay in my class for the last hour because I could not hold back the tears. I was a mess. Without strength there is fear. So am I more afraid of becoming a dazzling statue again - the kind that is rock solid marble, cold and hard and without life; the immovable dead - or of what people might say and do if I just start crying in the middle of Senior Seminar?

It's confession time. Every day, the pull that is Overwhelm staggers closer and closer until I can feel him beneath my feet, in my lungs, over my head. He comes on painfully slow, but I cannot bring myself to move. If I let myself get caught up completely, I am finished; there will not be a person in this body to resurrect again.

I am doing everything I can. I sleep more. I eat more. I read my Bible more. I talk less and listen more. I don't get bogged down by stress. I have hope in the things that are sure. ...And guess what? I am still not okay.

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.

Everyday Love

What. Is. Wrong. With. Me.

Yesterday I was about this big, and today I am high as a kite. On no sleep. But oh! Today!

Thursdays are usually my hardest days, because I have class from 8-11:30, chapel, lunch, and class from 1:15-4:30. I literally do not leave the building for 8.5 hours (except for, well not exactly the exception, when I go back to my room on each ten minute break for a five minute nap). But today! We talked about these things that just stir me up in the most amazing ways! Not in a bad, confrontational way, but in a challenging, be better! kind of way. We talked about inerrancy in Scripture, the huge responsibility placed on teachers (both inside the walls of the church and out) to lead people correctly while showing them how to read the Bible properly, and the essentiality of daily, personal, intense devotion time. All of which are so huge on my heart!

And chapel! (I need to go to a smaller font or I will not have enough room to make this short enough to be readable). A husband and wife from the States tag-teamed a message that was just so FULL of good stuff. And of course there's the stuff that just spoke, or yelled, at me.

• Esther 4:14 - she was called out of the mundane to the highest throne on the earth to be a voice for her generation. Be one in yours or God will use someone else.
• James 4:8 says that when we draw near to God He draws near too! If we don't feel Him...so what? I need to be prepared that I may be in this place of not feeling Him for the rest of my life, but that shouldn't diminish my passion. I refuse to doubt in the dark what He told me in the light.
• Express what you're learning in school through service of some kind. It will make it mean more. I need to kick myself into gear, stop being afraid, and just do whatever the heck He asks me to.
• Do not get comfortable, do not squash your own dream, do not say never if God doesn't.

Whew!

What a day. Don't get me wrong...I still feel as lost in the desert as ever. But somehow, today, I'm staring through the glare off the sand and smiling through the sweat and tears. If this is as good as it gets...then it's as good as it gets.

.

If That's the Road God Made Me Take to Be with You

This is not my life. This cannot be my life.

It has now officially been a year and a half. Context? Context. More context. It is not about a boy or a heartache or a crappy summer or a billion descending steps that landed me here. It's that I'm still here, and every sign I saw of help finally coming turned out to be just another mirage.

How many times this week do I have to break down in Starbucks before I realize things are not getting better? How often do I need to talk myself back into staying at school because I know I will regret it the rest of my life if I don't? How long before I can laugh at these questions because life is finally not here?

Sidenote: this whole "Natural November" thing is killing anything I had going on, for billions of reasons. But I guess I can narrow it down to a few:

1. I look like a 12 year old without make-up...and that's being generous.

2. God gave man the brain capacity to create eyelash curlers and mascara so that people like me could look like we have eyes. That should never be taken away.

3. This is self-inflicted, so if I quit I will only disappoint myself and feel even crappier than I do without the freaking stuff.

4. I have zero confidence when it feels like all people are doing when they talk to me is analyzing how many colours are on my face at any given time, staring with morbid curiosity at how my face looks like it died 10 years ago without blush, and, of course, they're still searching for my eyes.

I know it's a good exercise, and I know no one is holding me to this but me. I want to feel beautiful without help...but I look at my issues stretched across pages and pages of notes, and I am realizing exactly how petrified I am of being rejected for my appearance. I don't know if I can continue. It makes me truly sad to have to say that.

I am thoroughly exhausted. My energy, my self-esteem, my resources, my back-up battery power...all exhausted. Yet I type this with no emotion whatsoever. I am a wall; hard, cold, unfeeling. Then it slips out in a public place and I am surprised. By what, I have no idea.

Hello Mr. Heartache

I feel kind of like I am waiting for my life to happen.

When does it begin? When do the trivialities cease in favour of an existence worth pursuing? When do dreams stop hanging on my walls and over my head and in my sleep, and start becoming the reality I know they were made to be?

When do I wake up from everything I could never be to the woman who always was but was too afraid to show her face?

"One of the saddest experiences is to awaken at old age and discover that one has been using only a small part of self."

- V. W. Burroughs

Find me here. Meet me here. In the depths of my pain, in the sorrow that is too profound for words. In these things is where I need You the most. In these things I drown. I need living water, the kind that does not make me thirst again; then I can stop drowning in a sea I am desperately trying to swallow in a futile attempt at quenching my craving. Be my everything.