I always sit down with my laptop with no idea what to write. I simply feel the need to. I have had so much on my mind these past few days, but I don't even know if its worth writing, or if I should write at all...
All of that to say:
Lately I have been wrestling with my sin nature. God created mankind to be perfect. To be wholly His, to life in constant fellowship with Him. That is what we were made for. Now that we are fallen, it goes against our nature to be in fellowship with God. Now, instead of craving God for what He is- my life source, I want the very things that break His law. I know that His law is in place to help me be set apart, to protect from the ravages of sin, yet part of me still desires to have the cliche forbidden fruit... When I hear a friend telling me how much fun it is to get trashed, a part of me wants that, for many horrible reasons.
There has been a periods in my life where I have given myself over the desires of my flesh, only to face disaster. I am still dealing with the incredibly painful consequences of my sin to this day. Despite the pain that sin brings, it still seems more attractive than honoring God's law. Why is this?
It is because I have yet to surrender myself wholly to Him. I haven't found in Him the greater joy of obedience. If I found pleasure in loving God with all of my heart and in obeying Him, I don't think that getting trashed would be so appealing to me. I would prefer to get caught up in being with God instead of being in some guy's arms.
I know that above all God is better. I know it in my head. My heart isn't convinced. My sinful heart is still begging for its destruction. My redeemed heart is fighting a losing battle. Sin seeps through everything in this world. Sin takes a drink and turns it into an addiction, a deadly loss of inhibition. Sin takes healthy desire and twists it into a pornography addiction, into premarital sex, pregnancy outside of wedlock. Sin takes everything that is beautiful and kills it. And yet that is what we desire as fallen humans- a passion that leads to death. We sell our souls for a summer of beer and sex. We wake up hung over and without the slightest idea of who we fell asleep with. We graduate college and marry. We wake up mid-life and wonder who the hell we married, and divorce them when we realize we never loved them after all. We throw ourselves into careers so we have money to pay for our newest addictions, the best car, the newest Iphone. We die- and then we really get what we were asking for. Its a sickness.
I think that we get the idea that we can live without God. We just can't die without Him.
Yet even unbelievers have a sense of the futility of sin. One artist puts it this way:
"And the bars are finally closed, so I tried living for the moment, until the moment finally froze and I felt sick and so alone."
So despite our craving for sin, I think that we know that it isn't all that there is to live for. But, we don't desire God on our own... Romans 3:11 is clear on this.
That touches on a whole other subject... The fact that God puts the desire for Him in the hearts of those He chooses. And for the rest of the world: They are damned. And chillingly happy to be so. And there my mind is blown.
On to other issues:
I am spending my money like its going out of style. (It probably is) I have no idea if I am coming back to Moody or not. But after concert tickets, a tattoo and paying off my debt, I am probably not coming back. I don't know what I am going to do about my internship. I know that I want to get overseas as soon as possible. I want to study in Europe this summer, but I also need to do my internship. Maybe it is possible to do both... If I do go to Europe, that will probably put me at least a semester and a half behind. I need to decide if I want to go to Asbury after I go to Moody. 4 more years of school... eh. I suck at school. But I love learning.
Decisions, decisions.
I need a break. But there isn't really one in sight.
I miss high school football.
I wish that my biggest decision in life right now is what I should wear to homecoming.
The great thing about life is that it can only get better. The most horrible thing about life is that it can only get worse.
The inescapable fact of life is that someday- you die.
But death is a whole other story.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Stream of Conciousness
I wish I didn't feel so tired. I used to be able to write better, think better at night. Now I feel I have no clarity of mind at any given time.
I realize now that I want to return to Andrew for all of the wrong reasons. And here I am again, not feeling, except the longing to be accepted elsewhere.
I want to be better for you, whether you take me or leave me.
For a fleeting moment I felt better. I felt great, even. And then some girl took my laundry out of the dryer before it was dry and left it on the counter. Suddenly my mood was foul again.
Such a struggle to sit and read Romans 12 and feel so far from being the living sacrifice that loves her enemies and strives to be renewed. How bitter I am with myself for always, ever falling short.
Why are the good guys so few and far between? And why am I so tempted to settle for less?
It seems that the more I think about my own depravity, the more I experience guilt and self-loathing. Christ came for the sick. In experiencing the depravity, I am tasting His grace and mercy, renewed every morning. I have become quite the pessimist.
My Lord and Savior died for me. I am His, and He is mine. Despite the fact that I stray so far, so often, His grace is unending, if not more abounding, when I am feeling so low.
Taste and see that the Lord is good...
He is good. I have just been swallowing whole, and not taken the time to taste Him.
I realize now that I want to return to Andrew for all of the wrong reasons. And here I am again, not feeling, except the longing to be accepted elsewhere.
I want to be better for you, whether you take me or leave me.
For a fleeting moment I felt better. I felt great, even. And then some girl took my laundry out of the dryer before it was dry and left it on the counter. Suddenly my mood was foul again.
Such a struggle to sit and read Romans 12 and feel so far from being the living sacrifice that loves her enemies and strives to be renewed. How bitter I am with myself for always, ever falling short.
Why are the good guys so few and far between? And why am I so tempted to settle for less?
It seems that the more I think about my own depravity, the more I experience guilt and self-loathing. Christ came for the sick. In experiencing the depravity, I am tasting His grace and mercy, renewed every morning. I have become quite the pessimist.
My Lord and Savior died for me. I am His, and He is mine. Despite the fact that I stray so far, so often, His grace is unending, if not more abounding, when I am feeling so low.
Taste and see that the Lord is good...
He is good. I have just been swallowing whole, and not taken the time to taste Him.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
I write to stay dry...
If I do not write, I drown.
If I cannot take a few minutes every day and unload my heart and mind onto a keyboard or a journal, I am almost overcome. Lately, I have had a lot to think about and consider. I feel like I need to sit down and write a few people some letters, letting them know what I think... But I feel like if I don't take time to think long and hard about what I should say, that my words would just end up obliterating relationships.
I hurt. Two people who I love a lot, two of the people I love the most are inflicting more pain than they could be aware of.
One of them I have no problem disliking. One of them I am seeking to have reason to dislike. One of them I want to say what I have to say and forever close the door on the relationship. The other I want to say what I have to say and then grow a deeper love.
Yet I know if I just spoke what was on my heart with no thought or censorship, I would be left staring at two burnt bridges. I tend to speak without thinking, acting on emotional impulse, rather than discernment and rationality.
I would say that I am a very emotional person. I am a passionate person. The combination results in a terrifying whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that exhaust me, that drain me, that harm me and harm others. It is not all bad, of course. There are benefits to being such an emotional being, to having passions. Yet at the moment, I wish I could turn off my emotions, shut down my heart and mind, and be a sad robot, made of nothing but metal. To be cold and hardened to all of this emotional turmoil, to hear something of break ups and broken families, and shrug.
Of course I know this is ridiculous. Life is all the more beautiful because of pain. "The shadow proves the sun." This pain will grow me, in many ways I am sure. This too shall pass. There will come a day when my tears are dried for good, and I will wonder why I cried so much over a boy. So for now, I will feel. And feel boldly. I will love again, with utterly reckless abandon. I have less than a century to enjoy a romantic kind of love between a girl and a boy, a man and a woman. I plan on loving to the best of my ability, whoever it may be. Although sometimes I wonder if there is anyone who can handle... me.
If I cannot take a few minutes every day and unload my heart and mind onto a keyboard or a journal, I am almost overcome. Lately, I have had a lot to think about and consider. I feel like I need to sit down and write a few people some letters, letting them know what I think... But I feel like if I don't take time to think long and hard about what I should say, that my words would just end up obliterating relationships.
I hurt. Two people who I love a lot, two of the people I love the most are inflicting more pain than they could be aware of.
One of them I have no problem disliking. One of them I am seeking to have reason to dislike. One of them I want to say what I have to say and forever close the door on the relationship. The other I want to say what I have to say and then grow a deeper love.
Yet I know if I just spoke what was on my heart with no thought or censorship, I would be left staring at two burnt bridges. I tend to speak without thinking, acting on emotional impulse, rather than discernment and rationality.
I would say that I am a very emotional person. I am a passionate person. The combination results in a terrifying whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that exhaust me, that drain me, that harm me and harm others. It is not all bad, of course. There are benefits to being such an emotional being, to having passions. Yet at the moment, I wish I could turn off my emotions, shut down my heart and mind, and be a sad robot, made of nothing but metal. To be cold and hardened to all of this emotional turmoil, to hear something of break ups and broken families, and shrug.
Of course I know this is ridiculous. Life is all the more beautiful because of pain. "The shadow proves the sun." This pain will grow me, in many ways I am sure. This too shall pass. There will come a day when my tears are dried for good, and I will wonder why I cried so much over a boy. So for now, I will feel. And feel boldly. I will love again, with utterly reckless abandon. I have less than a century to enjoy a romantic kind of love between a girl and a boy, a man and a woman. I plan on loving to the best of my ability, whoever it may be. Although sometimes I wonder if there is anyone who can handle... me.
Kiss Me With Your Cherry Lipstick, Never Wash You Off My Face....
The realization that I came to last night was a beautiful one, and it puts my soul at ease. It has begun a process of spiritual rectification that might otherwise have been much delayed. Although I have found spiritual comfort, my emotions are still raging inside of me, and when left to think to myself, I see a moving picture show in my mind.
These emotions, this flood of memories that assaults me daily and brings stinging tears to my eyes, I thought that maybe I had bypassed this messy stage of breaking up. Alas, it just came three months later than I expected it to. I knew all along I was not okay, but I think that God was being merciful so I could deal with the storm known as Adam. I don't think it would have been mentally or emotionally possible to deal with what happened with Adam as I was trying to deal with my break up. So now, as I work at Moody, alone, cleaning bathrooms, I have no where to hide from the sadness and the memories, the worries and concerns, the hopes and the fears. I must just deal with them.
I remember sitting under a starry winter sky, giving no heeding to the biting cold, sitting in a covered wagon. The top was rolled back and we sat beneath a dome of glittering constellations, taking advantage of precious alone time. The only thing to draw us out of our reverie was the long, high howls of nearby coyotes. Wrapped up in each others arms on that cold bench, I experienced for the first time what it was just to kiss... and kiss and kiss and kiss, to kiss until my lips were numb, and not because of the cold. I remember stumbling through the darkest of dark woods, where he had first held my hand, now clinging to him for love and from fear.
This is just one of many that rush through my mind, leaving me desperately sad and feeling alone. A huge part of me is a hundred miles away, and I am rejected.
These emotions, this flood of memories that assaults me daily and brings stinging tears to my eyes, I thought that maybe I had bypassed this messy stage of breaking up. Alas, it just came three months later than I expected it to. I knew all along I was not okay, but I think that God was being merciful so I could deal with the storm known as Adam. I don't think it would have been mentally or emotionally possible to deal with what happened with Adam as I was trying to deal with my break up. So now, as I work at Moody, alone, cleaning bathrooms, I have no where to hide from the sadness and the memories, the worries and concerns, the hopes and the fears. I must just deal with them.
I remember sitting under a starry winter sky, giving no heeding to the biting cold, sitting in a covered wagon. The top was rolled back and we sat beneath a dome of glittering constellations, taking advantage of precious alone time. The only thing to draw us out of our reverie was the long, high howls of nearby coyotes. Wrapped up in each others arms on that cold bench, I experienced for the first time what it was just to kiss... and kiss and kiss and kiss, to kiss until my lips were numb, and not because of the cold. I remember stumbling through the darkest of dark woods, where he had first held my hand, now clinging to him for love and from fear.
This is just one of many that rush through my mind, leaving me desperately sad and feeling alone. A huge part of me is a hundred miles away, and I am rejected.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A Thrill Of Hope
"You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again." Psalm 71:20-21
A shroud hugs the roof of Gotham, glowing red in the distant corner, hanging silver and spooky over the edge of the city. It glows with an ironic, ethereal beauty. A gentle, cool breeze stirs the air, like an almost pleasant shiver. Lights flicker on and off throughout the staggered buildings. Cranes dangle in air, appearing and disappearing in the ever shifting atmosphere.
I worshiped.
*My soul is in the hands of a God who impregnated a fifteen year old Jewish girl. This same God descended as man, born in a barn. He made chairs for thirty years. He was then arrested and beaten by Roman guards. He died a shameful death on a mound of garbage known as 'the skull'. This is my God.
How is it that I, of my own will, choose to entrust my soul to such an unbelievable story? How is that, of my own will, I would give up what could be a fun, wild life of pleasing myself?
I don't.
This omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent Triune God, Creator of the universe, who holds all things together, stirred within my soul a faith that I could not have of my own accord. Not because of anything that I did, being an utterly sinful, corrupted soul- but for His own glory and good pleasure, He willingly laid down his life. In a moment that appeared to the world as defeat and weakness, Christ conquered death. At that moment, my damned soul was bought. God, who was born in a manger in a hick town, willingly gave Himself up to die an incredibly painful, lonely, dark death.
I cannot wrap my mind around how God, the one true God, could do such a thing for fallen mankind. I am awed that I am chosen by this God, that He gave me faith so that I would not have to worry about losing my salvation when I mess things up so terribly. When I have descended to the pits of sin, God looks on me and sees Christ's righteousness. He doesn't see me as a damned sinner, so dysfunctional and astray that there is no hope. He looks on me and sees His beloved Son, who suffered through thirty-three years on this not-so-pleasant earth. I have righteousness through faith. And my ability to have faith is a gift from God.
*Putting my trust in this God who came and lead a lowly, yet remarkable, life isn't like looking at a chair, evaluating whether or not it can support me, and then putting my faith in it by sitting on it. No, the story of God and His redemption of creation it too counter-culture, too against intuition and understanding just to decide, "Oh, I'll put my faith in that." It takes this great and unfathomable God to stir this faith within me.
And there are no words to express the gratitude I feel in being chosen to be a part of this epic story.
*Professor Quiggle gave this moving illustration in my European Reformations class today, in response to the question of the bonded will of man.
A shroud hugs the roof of Gotham, glowing red in the distant corner, hanging silver and spooky over the edge of the city. It glows with an ironic, ethereal beauty. A gentle, cool breeze stirs the air, like an almost pleasant shiver. Lights flicker on and off throughout the staggered buildings. Cranes dangle in air, appearing and disappearing in the ever shifting atmosphere.
I worshiped.
*My soul is in the hands of a God who impregnated a fifteen year old Jewish girl. This same God descended as man, born in a barn. He made chairs for thirty years. He was then arrested and beaten by Roman guards. He died a shameful death on a mound of garbage known as 'the skull'. This is my God.
How is it that I, of my own will, choose to entrust my soul to such an unbelievable story? How is that, of my own will, I would give up what could be a fun, wild life of pleasing myself?
I don't.
This omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent Triune God, Creator of the universe, who holds all things together, stirred within my soul a faith that I could not have of my own accord. Not because of anything that I did, being an utterly sinful, corrupted soul- but for His own glory and good pleasure, He willingly laid down his life. In a moment that appeared to the world as defeat and weakness, Christ conquered death. At that moment, my damned soul was bought. God, who was born in a manger in a hick town, willingly gave Himself up to die an incredibly painful, lonely, dark death.
I cannot wrap my mind around how God, the one true God, could do such a thing for fallen mankind. I am awed that I am chosen by this God, that He gave me faith so that I would not have to worry about losing my salvation when I mess things up so terribly. When I have descended to the pits of sin, God looks on me and sees Christ's righteousness. He doesn't see me as a damned sinner, so dysfunctional and astray that there is no hope. He looks on me and sees His beloved Son, who suffered through thirty-three years on this not-so-pleasant earth. I have righteousness through faith. And my ability to have faith is a gift from God.
*Putting my trust in this God who came and lead a lowly, yet remarkable, life isn't like looking at a chair, evaluating whether or not it can support me, and then putting my faith in it by sitting on it. No, the story of God and His redemption of creation it too counter-culture, too against intuition and understanding just to decide, "Oh, I'll put my faith in that." It takes this great and unfathomable God to stir this faith within me.
And there are no words to express the gratitude I feel in being chosen to be a part of this epic story.
*Professor Quiggle gave this moving illustration in my European Reformations class today, in response to the question of the bonded will of man.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
I am sitting in Argo Tea, putting forth little effort in being productive... I should have learned my lesson from last night, in which I was up until 6 this morning reading and writing papers. I am reading the book RealSex by Lauren Winner for my Marriage and Family Systems class. It is actually really good. Kind of an awkward book to take to a cafe, but I have long since stopped caring so much about that kind of stuff.
As usual, I am incredibly confused about almost everything in my life. I am confused by my relationship, or lack thereof, with Andrew. I made it a whole summer. I was okay. And then the reality and the pain that I had been fleeing from finally caught up. And when it hit me, it was like what I would imagine being hit by a truck, or slamming into a brick wall would be like. It left me slightly senseless, dazed, and confused. The fight or flight process kicked in and I wanted to take flight, to keep running. Even now, I want to run. I want to leave almost everything. I want to remove myself from Chicago, from Crawfordsville, from anything that connects me to the issues that surround me. I want to buy a plane ticket and fly to New Zealand. I want to throw myself fully into a ministry where I spend all day with horses and kids, helping them to overcome their own tremendous problems, while I cower from my own.
He told me the other day that there was a girl that he liked. Just another way to hurt. Another blow. As he told me I instantly felt sick, couldn't breathe, and spent the next few hours sobbing while Deanna rubbed my back. The past few days I have found myself so lost in thought. The only time that I can escape it is when I am at the Gap. The Gap is like a whole other life to me. I can hurl myself into the job, working to achieve a possible distant promotion. I don't have to think about everything that is wrong with me. My problems follow me everywhere else, except there.
All of these feelings that are coming up because of Andrew are revealing a much nastier side of my self. The side of me that has blood boiling in my veins at the thought of another girl stepping in to take my place. I apparently think so highly of myself to think that I should be irreplaceable. Yet all summer I have been searching frantically for Andrew's stand in, only to realize that there isn't one, shouldn't be one. Not now anyway. I feel confused about how I should view this singleness. The thought of casual dating appeals to me, but the thought of committment to anyone but Andrew terrifies me. Another insight into my sick selfishness, the disconnect in my heart and my head. Instant gratification seems to be a pretty big priority to me. I can see that my attitude implies that Andrew should sit around and wait while I resolve all this inner turmoil, while always toying with the idea of dating other guys. I am such a jerk. I feel like I could compile a pretty comprehensive list of why guys should stay away from me right now. I sure as hell wouldn't want to date someone like me...
All of these things point to an even graver issue. My heart is *effed up. Like I indicated in my previous blog, I am feeling hopelessly lost. At the beginning of the summer, I felt as if I was putting up a valiant effort to fight my own destruction. And here I am, feeling rather destroyed. I feel so low that I can't even manage to mouth a prayer, to pick up my Bible. I feel so estranged from God. Yet in Church on Sunday, I was struck by my need for God in a new way. I was texting my brother throughout church, and he was telling me about his issue with his girlfriend. I began to feel very sad for him, wishing that I could protect him from what I see to be a very poor relationship and impending heartache. I wish I could spare him from the pain I know he is going to face. I have to deal with the pain that my mom has been abandoned by her family. I can't imagine how absolutely horrible that must feel, to be so alonen, and that is a whole issue in and of itself. I am responsible for part of that, but I don't even know how to reconcile that situation. All of this to say, I was overwhelmed and consumed by pain, by heartache, by the devastation of relationships. And then I felt a small stirring of hope in my soul. I need God. I need Him to heal me. I need Him to save me once again, not from my sin, but from myself. Instead of letting my pain beat me into the ground, I need to let it stir me upwards, to a Father who wants me to share my pain with Him, and to share His yoke with me. What a wretched person I am, that it is taking me so long to drag myself back to Him. Praise Him for His abounding grace!
I have so many thoughts and concepts swirling through my heart and mind right now. Every now and then I am faced with a cycle that I see in my family. I see my older sister, asking my dad for money so she can buy soap and shampoo, because there is no one to love her and care for her as she murders herself with meth. I see my mother, her mind altered by who knows what, leaving her unpredictable and hateful at times, and at other times, so needy for attention and love from others that when it doesn't come she is left feeling purposeless. I see her now, for the most part alone and abandoned, just like her eldest daughter. I beg that God doesn't let me follow in the footsteps of the women before me. I don't want to succomb to madness and hopelessness and despair. I don't want to find myself at the mercy of internal demons that I could never face, letting disappointment after disappointment leave me embittered and depressed to the point where no one can bear to deal with me. Life is so cruel. Satan has wrought so much havoc on my family... How can I be expected to overcome it?
Why isn't God doing more to stop it?
One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted --
One need not be a House --
The Brain has Corridors -- surpassing
Material Place --
Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting
External Ghost
Than its interior Confronting --
That Cooler Host.
Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a'chase --
Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter --
In lonesome Place --
Ourself behind ourself, concealed --
Should startle most --
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror's least.
The Body -- borrows a Revolver --
He bolts the Door --
O'erlooking a superior spectre --
Or More --
Emily Dickinson
*Check out "effing" on dictionary.com. I found this term used often in Harry Potter, and also by my roommate... Unsettling where language is going...
As usual, I am incredibly confused about almost everything in my life. I am confused by my relationship, or lack thereof, with Andrew. I made it a whole summer. I was okay. And then the reality and the pain that I had been fleeing from finally caught up. And when it hit me, it was like what I would imagine being hit by a truck, or slamming into a brick wall would be like. It left me slightly senseless, dazed, and confused. The fight or flight process kicked in and I wanted to take flight, to keep running. Even now, I want to run. I want to leave almost everything. I want to remove myself from Chicago, from Crawfordsville, from anything that connects me to the issues that surround me. I want to buy a plane ticket and fly to New Zealand. I want to throw myself fully into a ministry where I spend all day with horses and kids, helping them to overcome their own tremendous problems, while I cower from my own.
He told me the other day that there was a girl that he liked. Just another way to hurt. Another blow. As he told me I instantly felt sick, couldn't breathe, and spent the next few hours sobbing while Deanna rubbed my back. The past few days I have found myself so lost in thought. The only time that I can escape it is when I am at the Gap. The Gap is like a whole other life to me. I can hurl myself into the job, working to achieve a possible distant promotion. I don't have to think about everything that is wrong with me. My problems follow me everywhere else, except there.
All of these feelings that are coming up because of Andrew are revealing a much nastier side of my self. The side of me that has blood boiling in my veins at the thought of another girl stepping in to take my place. I apparently think so highly of myself to think that I should be irreplaceable. Yet all summer I have been searching frantically for Andrew's stand in, only to realize that there isn't one, shouldn't be one. Not now anyway. I feel confused about how I should view this singleness. The thought of casual dating appeals to me, but the thought of committment to anyone but Andrew terrifies me. Another insight into my sick selfishness, the disconnect in my heart and my head. Instant gratification seems to be a pretty big priority to me. I can see that my attitude implies that Andrew should sit around and wait while I resolve all this inner turmoil, while always toying with the idea of dating other guys. I am such a jerk. I feel like I could compile a pretty comprehensive list of why guys should stay away from me right now. I sure as hell wouldn't want to date someone like me...
All of these things point to an even graver issue. My heart is *effed up. Like I indicated in my previous blog, I am feeling hopelessly lost. At the beginning of the summer, I felt as if I was putting up a valiant effort to fight my own destruction. And here I am, feeling rather destroyed. I feel so low that I can't even manage to mouth a prayer, to pick up my Bible. I feel so estranged from God. Yet in Church on Sunday, I was struck by my need for God in a new way. I was texting my brother throughout church, and he was telling me about his issue with his girlfriend. I began to feel very sad for him, wishing that I could protect him from what I see to be a very poor relationship and impending heartache. I wish I could spare him from the pain I know he is going to face. I have to deal with the pain that my mom has been abandoned by her family. I can't imagine how absolutely horrible that must feel, to be so alonen, and that is a whole issue in and of itself. I am responsible for part of that, but I don't even know how to reconcile that situation. All of this to say, I was overwhelmed and consumed by pain, by heartache, by the devastation of relationships. And then I felt a small stirring of hope in my soul. I need God. I need Him to heal me. I need Him to save me once again, not from my sin, but from myself. Instead of letting my pain beat me into the ground, I need to let it stir me upwards, to a Father who wants me to share my pain with Him, and to share His yoke with me. What a wretched person I am, that it is taking me so long to drag myself back to Him. Praise Him for His abounding grace!
I have so many thoughts and concepts swirling through my heart and mind right now. Every now and then I am faced with a cycle that I see in my family. I see my older sister, asking my dad for money so she can buy soap and shampoo, because there is no one to love her and care for her as she murders herself with meth. I see my mother, her mind altered by who knows what, leaving her unpredictable and hateful at times, and at other times, so needy for attention and love from others that when it doesn't come she is left feeling purposeless. I see her now, for the most part alone and abandoned, just like her eldest daughter. I beg that God doesn't let me follow in the footsteps of the women before me. I don't want to succomb to madness and hopelessness and despair. I don't want to find myself at the mercy of internal demons that I could never face, letting disappointment after disappointment leave me embittered and depressed to the point where no one can bear to deal with me. Life is so cruel. Satan has wrought so much havoc on my family... How can I be expected to overcome it?
Why isn't God doing more to stop it?
One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted --
One need not be a House --
The Brain has Corridors -- surpassing
Material Place --
Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting
External Ghost
Than its interior Confronting --
That Cooler Host.
Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a'chase --
Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter --
In lonesome Place --
Ourself behind ourself, concealed --
Should startle most --
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror's least.
The Body -- borrows a Revolver --
He bolts the Door --
O'erlooking a superior spectre --
Or More --
Emily Dickinson
*Check out "effing" on dictionary.com. I found this term used often in Harry Potter, and also by my roommate... Unsettling where language is going...
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Starting to feel...
It hit me, as I sat for the first time today, on an old bench at a train station. "Memories like bullets fire at me from a gun..." At the most unpredictable of moments the pain rips through me. It is physical. It starts in my chest and washes over me, and for a second I am drowning in it, choking on it, unable to breathe because of it. And then it recedes, and I can catch my breath. But today the pain lingers. As I stood in line at the Sears Tower, Isabella tugged on my hand. I bent down, and she asked where my husband was. "I don't have a husband!" I replied with a laugh. "Are you asking where Arni is?" "Yeah, where is Barney?" she replied. I explained that Arni was in Indiana, and went on trying to explain how many of her there would have to be, stacked, to reach the top of the Sears Tower. Even Austin was asking about Arni, and Gil. I realized it wasn't just myself that was counting on the two of us getting married. The last time Arni and I had been together, he had been playing race cars with Isabella. I remember not feeling well, and getting up to go down stairs. I had stood up, kissing him on the cheek before heading down. As far as Isabella was concerned, he and I were married, although at the time we weren't even considering ourselves a couple.
The more I sit and allow myself to think about it, the more regret builds up inside of me. Everything about this summer, and the summer before, and even the summer before that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The summers and their mistakes run together in my mind, one bad choice after another. The apathy, and living on the edge of self loathing is eating away at my resolve. I am comfortable with it though, and that is perhaps the most dangerous thing. What I am learning makes me feel good, and I am in college because I know I should be. I do the homework because its required to get the degree I want. I clean the bathrooms, and work at the Gap because it pays for school.
I don't read my Bible because I have convinced myself I don't need it. I don't talk to God unless I am apologizing for not talking to Him. I know I need Him, but at the moment I don't want Him. I am desperately sick. I could have avoided it, I am sure. But it is easier to blame other circumstances. It is easier to point the finger at what happened this summer, saying that it was the anger and hatred and bitterness towards the guy who came into my world and turned it on its head. Its easier to say that I just wore myself to thin with working both jobs. Its easier to say that breaking up with the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life left me too depressed for the moment. But I am the root of all of those issues. My degeneration must have started before the summer. What an awful thought... How long have I been sinking? And now all of this baggage is weighing me down, and I can't seem to find a way back up. I don't even know if I want to go back up. I am tired, depressed, lonely... I want to move back with my grandparents and my dad. I am in no position to be at Moody.
I don't even want to be in love anymore. Seeing couples at Moody doesn't make me long for my past relationship, it gives me a sense of relief. Yet I miss Andrew. But I am repelled by the thought of commitment. I want something new though. I want to try new things, but I hope for the old things as well. I feel torn up and trashed on the inside. I am descending rapidly, looking back so far that I am always looking forward. I feel as lost as the lost... If not more so, because I know Who I am lost from. My eyes must be adjusting though, because the darkness doesn't seem so dark anymore.
The more I sit and allow myself to think about it, the more regret builds up inside of me. Everything about this summer, and the summer before, and even the summer before that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The summers and their mistakes run together in my mind, one bad choice after another. The apathy, and living on the edge of self loathing is eating away at my resolve. I am comfortable with it though, and that is perhaps the most dangerous thing. What I am learning makes me feel good, and I am in college because I know I should be. I do the homework because its required to get the degree I want. I clean the bathrooms, and work at the Gap because it pays for school.
I don't read my Bible because I have convinced myself I don't need it. I don't talk to God unless I am apologizing for not talking to Him. I know I need Him, but at the moment I don't want Him. I am desperately sick. I could have avoided it, I am sure. But it is easier to blame other circumstances. It is easier to point the finger at what happened this summer, saying that it was the anger and hatred and bitterness towards the guy who came into my world and turned it on its head. Its easier to say that I just wore myself to thin with working both jobs. Its easier to say that breaking up with the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life left me too depressed for the moment. But I am the root of all of those issues. My degeneration must have started before the summer. What an awful thought... How long have I been sinking? And now all of this baggage is weighing me down, and I can't seem to find a way back up. I don't even know if I want to go back up. I am tired, depressed, lonely... I want to move back with my grandparents and my dad. I am in no position to be at Moody.
I don't even want to be in love anymore. Seeing couples at Moody doesn't make me long for my past relationship, it gives me a sense of relief. Yet I miss Andrew. But I am repelled by the thought of commitment. I want something new though. I want to try new things, but I hope for the old things as well. I feel torn up and trashed on the inside. I am descending rapidly, looking back so far that I am always looking forward. I feel as lost as the lost... If not more so, because I know Who I am lost from. My eyes must be adjusting though, because the darkness doesn't seem so dark anymore.
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