It's been a long time since I posted much of anything here, but it's definitely been awhile since I updated anything about my life in general. Life is really hard right now. I'm learning to count my blessings and focus on the good things and to struggle well. But life is pretty tough right now.
I'm looking for a new job. Again. I don't know why I've been walking in circles since I graduated college or why I need to experience same frustrations in every job I take, but apparently there's some lesson the be learned here. I really hope I learn it soon.
This job has been difficult form the start and just keeps getting harder. I hesitate to say anything too specific here because the last time I wrote about a boss, he read it and I feel quite a bit of shame for how it must have hurt him. It was the truth, but it was also angry and bitter and unkindly put. So, if there's one lesson I've learned, it's to be kinder on this blog. And the kindest way to put this is that I am not a good fit for this ministry and this ministry is not a good fit for me. There are many things that could change and would make my life a lot easier and make this place much more pleasant, but there is little chance of that happening right now, so I'm looking for a new place to be.
Job hunting is awful. It just is. I don't know of anyone who has enjoyed this process. I have been on three in-person interviews and countless phone interviews. I have been assessed and judged and found wanting again and again. Many people never even contact me again, which is disheartening and rude. Note to Hiring Managers: if we've had a face-to-face conversation, it's not too much to ask for an email or a phone call saying "No, thank you." Also, if you elect not to hire me and say some pretty tough things in the rejection, perhaps you should not, in the same paragraph, ask me to like you on Facebook. Just a thought.
Anyway, here's a snapshot: I went on an interview this last Friday that was...a frustrating waste of time. The job was a technical editor position for a microchip manufacturing firm. Now, obviously, this is a highly specialized and technical place and describing what they do might bore certain people. But when the guy in charge of MARKETING the firm sounds bored when explaining the job to me, that's not a good sign. Also the online job description and the job described at the interview were significantly different from one another and my resume no longer fit what they were looking for. The whole time, the interviewer and the HR person acted like they had no idea why I was there. YOU called ME, people.
As I was leaving this disappointing meeting, I discovered my first grey hair. If you'd asked me before that day what I thought about grey hair, I would have shrugged and said something about natural aging is beautiful and I should own it and maybe worrying about it is a little vain (but not in a judgey way). Instead, I burst into tears. I don't actually care about my hair. I'm blond enough that it wasn't really obvious and it will be a long while before the grey outnumber the blond and becomes noticeable. It was the juxtaposition of feeling very lonely and wondering if I was ever going to meet someone one and feeling ridiculously self-conscious about the fact that I'm 27 and I've never been kissed AND grey hair that made it so difficult. So, first grey hair before first kiss. That felt good.
Anyway, I've been feeling pretty down lately. Work is hard, hour by hour. There is less and less freedom in my workplace and more and more frustration. My favorite coworker resigned last week to go have her baby, which is fraught with many layers of sadness for me. I go home to an empty one bedroom apartment I can barely afford. And no one seems to want to hire me.
I don't have an ending for this post that is hopeful. I don't have it in me today. This is where I am, learning to struggle well. I'm frequently asking myself the question "If this is all there is, is God enough?" And if I'm being really honest, right now the answer is "not really." I'm getting there. I want Him to be enough. But today, I'm feeling pretty discontented. I want to believe this will get better, but there are no guarantees in life. This life I'm living is by no means awful. It's just less than I thought I would have. Which is, admittedly, a very entitled way of looking at the world. Again, there are no guarantees in this life, so I wasn't even promised this much. On my better days, I'm grateful for even this much. I'm trying to make today one of those days.
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
9.29.2014
8.13.2014
The Greatest of These Is Love
It's way past my bedtime. I should be asleep, not stewing over these words in my head. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Work is hard. Life is hard. The news headlines are hard. There are a lot of voices out there saying a lot of unkind, hateful, or thoughtless words about complex and nuanced issues. Maybe I'm just adding my voice to cacophony. Or maybe someone will hear and something will change. Maybe I will listen and learn and change.
I believe in a loving God. A big God. A righteous, faithful, good God. Sometimes, these truths are hard to hold on to. I'm struggling to believe them right this second. My head knows it and those I trust continue to speak it into my life, but the whispers are loud in my heart saying He isn't good, He won't provide, I'm too broken for His love or anyone else's, I am alone and worthless and cannot expect anything more from life than what I have right this second. These are lies, if only I can remember that.
This is not a post about depression. This is not a post about mental illness or mental health. I do not have any authority or much experience from which to speak about those subjects. This post is about love. It's about how we speak to and about one another. It's about how we speak to and about one another in the broader context of the major issues of our times.
Once upon a time, it was my job to know, study, and have an opinion about every current event and political issue raging in our world today. I have four years and 245 credits of education that claim I know a little bit about that arena. In all honesty, I know very little. I have a combined 20 months of work experience in a very small sector of a portion of the industry known as politics. The thing that drove me away from that line of work was watching as the political and media machine tore us all limb from limb and turned us into people who looked nothing like Christ, though many of us claimed to serve Him. I watched people who deeply believed that their words didn't matter, that how and when they said them didn't matter. Or, worse, that their right to say them mattered more than the person to whom they were speaking.
Here is the one thing I know: no matter what the issue is, not matter how strongly you believe you are right, and no matter how much of the law or the Constitution or even scripture is on your side, you are WRONG when you cease to see your opponent or adversary or "enemy" as anything less than a human being created in the image of a holy and eternal God.
But most of all, love is about seeing a person as God sees them.
With all of this in mind, can we, for the literal love of God, speak to one another with kindness and compassion and mercy and love? Can we take a breath before speaking and think about the impact of our words? Can we imagine our audience as a real person, whole and full of thoughts and ideas and insights and inspirations, who is more than their beliefs or ideas about the particular issue we happen to be discussing in that moment? Can we pretend we are speaking to Christ himself?
I believe in a loving God. A big God. A righteous, faithful, good God. Sometimes, these truths are hard to hold on to. I'm struggling to believe them right this second. My head knows it and those I trust continue to speak it into my life, but the whispers are loud in my heart saying He isn't good, He won't provide, I'm too broken for His love or anyone else's, I am alone and worthless and cannot expect anything more from life than what I have right this second. These are lies, if only I can remember that.
This is not a post about depression. This is not a post about mental illness or mental health. I do not have any authority or much experience from which to speak about those subjects. This post is about love. It's about how we speak to and about one another. It's about how we speak to and about one another in the broader context of the major issues of our times.
Once upon a time, it was my job to know, study, and have an opinion about every current event and political issue raging in our world today. I have four years and 245 credits of education that claim I know a little bit about that arena. In all honesty, I know very little. I have a combined 20 months of work experience in a very small sector of a portion of the industry known as politics. The thing that drove me away from that line of work was watching as the political and media machine tore us all limb from limb and turned us into people who looked nothing like Christ, though many of us claimed to serve Him. I watched people who deeply believed that their words didn't matter, that how and when they said them didn't matter. Or, worse, that their right to say them mattered more than the person to whom they were speaking.
Here is the one thing I know: no matter what the issue is, not matter how strongly you believe you are right, and no matter how much of the law or the Constitution or even scripture is on your side, you are WRONG when you cease to see your opponent or adversary or "enemy" as anything less than a human being created in the image of a holy and eternal God.
So God created man in his own image,in the image of God he created him;male and female he created them. - Genesis 1:27 ESV
Pick an issue, any issue. That issue has AT LEAST two sides. Those sides are made up of people. People with hopes and dreams and families and hearts and who are made and loved by the Creator of the Universe. No matter the circumstances of their birth, the color of their skin, the choices they have made in life, or the things they believe, they are loved by God and are extended the same redemption through Christ that I do not merit but am so blessed to have received.If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. - 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 ESV
If we just stopped for just one second and considered compassion, considered grace, considered love, how would that change the conversation? The definition of love is important here, for sure. Love is not always (and is perhaps rarely) about warm, happy feelings. Love is a choice. Love is telling the truth no matter how hard it is to hear in order to bring about healing, restoration, and growth in someone's life. Love is making the choice to come back time after time and forgive and reconcile and work things out. Love is seeing a person as they truly are and committing to walk with them on the hard journey to who you know they can become. Love is being vulnerable and open enough to allow someone else to do these things for you.For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:8-10 ESV
But most of all, love is about seeing a person as God sees them.
In the midst of this, I feel compelled to take a tangent just to say that you, YES YOU, were created in the image and likeness of God. You are loved by Him. It doesn't matter if you know Him or serve Him or reject Him. He created you. Specifically and uniquely created you to be unlike anyone He ever created before or ever will again. You are here for a reason. Please don't ever let the lies talk you out of that. Please.For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. - 1 Samuel 16:7b ESV
With all of this in mind, can we, for the literal love of God, speak to one another with kindness and compassion and mercy and love? Can we take a breath before speaking and think about the impact of our words? Can we imagine our audience as a real person, whole and full of thoughts and ideas and insights and inspirations, who is more than their beliefs or ideas about the particular issue we happen to be discussing in that moment? Can we pretend we are speaking to Christ himself?
And lest you imagine me over here preaching with my finger waving interrogatively (which I sincerely hope you see is the exact opposite of my heart in this moment), please know I am mostly speaking to my own broken and rebellious heart, which sees enemies in every corner and believes my ideas are right by the simple virtue of me being the one who had them. I just keep thinking there has to be a better way. A way to live without all this bitterness and anger. So this is my prayer for me, for all of us:The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ - Matthew 25:40 NIV
Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. - Colossians 3:12-14 NIV
10.30.2013
It's October Again
There's this song that runs through my head around this time of year. I first heard it on One Tree Hill (shut up, it's good!) and I actually don't know who wrote it or anything. You can see it here (sorry about the extraneous episode pieces that you won't understand if you never watched the show), but it's just one stanza that runs through my head: "It's October again/the leaves are coming down/one more year's come and gone/and nothing's changed at all."
And, geez, I feel all kinds of high-school-angsty just writing that out and linking to that show (but I love it anyway!), but that line has felt so true to me for years. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I always felt like nothing really ever changed. Sure, I left home and went to college and that was new! and fun! and exciting! and terrifying! and all the other things you feel moving away form home for the first time. But I never felt like my life really changed. And then I moved back home and got job after job, but it was all the same. I felt like I was on this path that was kind of set out for me from birth and I was just...me. The same old me with the same old hang-ups and the same old ideas and the same old life, not even heading in the direction I thought I would, but still in the same boring direction year after year.
Now, don't get me wrong, I was not unhappy with my life, per se. I was and am incredibly blessed and loved and there was nothing "wrong" with my life. I guess what I'm trying to say is that even at 25, I felt like I was still 15, waiting for my life to start. I was waiting for something extraordinary to happen, for there to be the epiphany or cataclysmic moment that I could point to when I'm old and say, "That's where everything changed. That's when my life really began. THAT'S when I became an adult." Which is, of course, ridiculous. Very few people have moments like that.
And I will admit, a lot of this feeling was wrapped up in my singleness. I felt (and still often do, despite my best efforts to trust my sovereign God) that my life wouldn't really begin until I met the person I would share my life with. I would never have said it in those terms because "I don't need a man to complete me/Jesus is all I need and the rest will come in the right time/some other odd mix of feminism and Christianity that basically says I am a whole person with a god-given purpose that does not REQUIRE and may not include a man or a family." But I still thought it (still think it) despite my best intentions.
So year after year would pass, and October would roll around again. And this song would float through my mind and I would very melodramatically, and yet completely honestly, nod my head and think, "Nothing ever changes." This was especially difficult when I left my job on October 3, 2011. I felt like I was running backwards, away from all of the things that I wanted for my life, straight toward the same-old-same that the song poked at. When October 3, 2012 rolled around and I was still unemployed, still single, still childless, still everything I did not want to be, I ran head-first into a wall. It's October again, and nothing's changed at all INDEED.
Now, before you click away or put on your pitying hats, I have a point. I think. October 2013 is almost over, but I was talking about this with Sister and it's time to share: for the first time in nearly ten years, the song doesn't apply. And it's not just that I live in Dallas now. Or that I have a job. Or that my job is in a vastly different field than I ever thought I'd pursue. Or even that I'm flinging myself into running headlong toward excited to start tentatively dipping a single toe into the process of becoming a foster parent. All those things are true and, at first, I thought they were the reason I finally feel so different. But they're not. Because in a lot of ways, nothing has changed at all. This should be no different than moving to college or moving home. Nothing's changed, except for ME.
For the first time, I am trusting God with every. single. step. I am reaching toward the unknown, not with fear of bad things or even expectation of grand things, but armed only with the knowledge that I serve a mighty, loving, incredible God and that my life is not my own. I don't mean to get preachy. I'm not saying any of this to convince you to "join God's team" or anything (although I would be lying if I did not say that I pray that for each of you--because the grace He has shown me is something I would love for you to experience, too).
I'm saying this because this is HUGE for me. This is mind-blowing and freeing and LIFE-ALTERING. Which is the point. My life has been altered. Finally. Not by my circumstances, not by finding the love of my life (I have not), and not by my location, but by simply trusting that God is Who He says He is. And when your life is altered by something so good, you cannot help but share it with others. October is almost over. Another one is coming next year. It might not bring with it any of the things I think it will. It might. It doesn't matter, because it's not my story to write. It's just mine to live. And I can finally enjoy the sight of leaves falling down.
9.26.2013
This Is Going to Sound Crazy...
Today, I'm going to share a secret. Well, it's not a really secrety secret, like I've spent time worrying that someone might find out. It's more like something that's been on my mind and in my heart for a long time and I haven't really known what to do about it, but now I'm ready to talk about it. So don't brace yourself for a big reveal or anything, just... Wow, I am intro-ing myself into oblivion. Let's start over, shall we?
If you've read my blog for any amount of time, you know all about my job and joblessness woes--more than you probably ever wanted to know. For the uninitiated: I left college, got a job with a crazy person, spent 6 months unemployed and zombie-like, took another job with a crazy person, spent 20 months unemployed, moved to Texas, got a job, and now here we are.
During the last few months of my last job and for the entirety of my second bout of unemployment, I prayed for a direction. Was I supposed to take another job in my industry or chart a new path? Where did God want me to work? Where would I do my best and make the world better and serve Him with my abilities? When no voice from heaven came and the doors kept closing on job opportunities, I got discouraged and cried out to God for any kind of relief. After a many months, God told me (not audibly--I'm not entirely crazy) to move here to Dallas. And many of you would see that as God answering my prayer for direction. It was an actual, geographic direction provided by God. Boom, prayer answered. And that's absolutely true.
Except. I never told you (and I only told a few people at the time) that I was getting an another answer from Him the whole time. Every time I prayed about my future, I got this simple and ridiculous answer:
And I knew it wasn't from me. I KNEW it, because every time I heard it, I would chuckle nervously and whisper, "You're kidding, right, Jesus?" It was as close as I was willing to get to consciously telling God, "No." I didn't want to be a foster mom, but I knew I NEEDED to be one. I wanted to get a job, get married, and have my own biological children and maybe someday WITH MY HUSBAND, adopt or foster. I wanted the perfect life, the American dream, the self-focused desire for my children to have my eyes and my husband's laugh. I was never opposed to adoption or fostering, it was just something I supported other people doing. I especially didn't want all of the fear of adoption--what if it doesn't go through? what if the birth mother wants them back? what if they're older and we never really bond? what if I'm not good at it because they're not "mine"?--and I didn't want all of the problems I'd heard about with fostering--what if they're troubled? what if I can't handle their issues? what do I do when I have to give them back? will I always hold a piece of my heart back because I know it's not permanent?--and yet there it remained, month after month, an ache deep in my heart for these parent-less children.
And the someone, not knowing about my internal struggle, brought up the Bible verse that says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart" and taught me what the verse really means. It does not mean that God is a genie and gives you what you desire; it means he gives you the desires themselves. This was from Him and even though it was CRAZY, I could kind of see His point: I love children; I have always felt like I was created to be a mom; Even in unemployment, I was so blessed and more than many other people. So I eventually kind of accepted the premise and said, "Okay, God, FINE! I'll be a foster mom. Someday. But I have no income and I live in my sister's house. That's not really an option right now. So, thanks and all, but can I have a different answer? One that's more applicable to my immediate issues? Like a JOB?"
And then God laughed and laughed. I mean, ahem. He provided a way for me to move to Texas and start a new life here. But here's the thing: this thought? It hasn't gone away (I thought it might. I maybe even hoped it might. I thought maybe it was a phase or a far-in-the-future thing that God allowed me to get a glimpse of). It disappeared from constant view amid the moving to Texas stuff, but a few weeks into my new job here, there was a day that was like ADOPTIONPALOOZA in my life. Among other things that happened that day, I was researching something else entirely and came across a fostering site with pictures of kids waiting for homes (side note, I'm not sure how I feel about this, since it feels a little like a department store website where you can pick out the prettiest dress or something...), then a blogger I read announced they were adopting and talked about THE SAME struggles I'd had and how they worked through them, AND THEN the novel I was reading to took a radical and unforeseen turn that ended with the main character taking custody of several children. And the whispering began again, but slightly different this time:
If you've read my blog for any amount of time, you know all about my job and joblessness woes--more than you probably ever wanted to know. For the uninitiated: I left college, got a job with a crazy person, spent 6 months unemployed and zombie-like, took another job with a crazy person, spent 20 months unemployed, moved to Texas, got a job, and now here we are.
During the last few months of my last job and for the entirety of my second bout of unemployment, I prayed for a direction. Was I supposed to take another job in my industry or chart a new path? Where did God want me to work? Where would I do my best and make the world better and serve Him with my abilities? When no voice from heaven came and the doors kept closing on job opportunities, I got discouraged and cried out to God for any kind of relief. After a many months, God told me (not audibly--I'm not entirely crazy) to move here to Dallas. And many of you would see that as God answering my prayer for direction. It was an actual, geographic direction provided by God. Boom, prayer answered. And that's absolutely true.
Except. I never told you (and I only told a few people at the time) that I was getting an another answer from Him the whole time. Every time I prayed about my future, I got this simple and ridiculous answer:
"Be a foster mom."It was whispered in my heart, it consumed my thoughts, it was in my face all the time. Every time I turned around, I was accidentally stumbling across adoption stories or foster care information or someone was telling me I needed to work with children or I was meeting people who had fostered. I had dreams of a four-year-old boy with dimples and adorably crazy hair, the same boy over and over again. It was WEIRD, is what I'm saying. I'm not one to see "signs" or patterns or put much stock in dreams, but I do believe in a God who is actively involved in our lives, with whom we can have a personal relationship. I had just never experienced it like this before--this overwhelming sensation of knowing what I should do.
And I knew it wasn't from me. I KNEW it, because every time I heard it, I would chuckle nervously and whisper, "You're kidding, right, Jesus?" It was as close as I was willing to get to consciously telling God, "No." I didn't want to be a foster mom, but I knew I NEEDED to be one. I wanted to get a job, get married, and have my own biological children and maybe someday WITH MY HUSBAND, adopt or foster. I wanted the perfect life, the American dream, the self-focused desire for my children to have my eyes and my husband's laugh. I was never opposed to adoption or fostering, it was just something I supported other people doing. I especially didn't want all of the fear of adoption--what if it doesn't go through? what if the birth mother wants them back? what if they're older and we never really bond? what if I'm not good at it because they're not "mine"?--and I didn't want all of the problems I'd heard about with fostering--what if they're troubled? what if I can't handle their issues? what do I do when I have to give them back? will I always hold a piece of my heart back because I know it's not permanent?--and yet there it remained, month after month, an ache deep in my heart for these parent-less children.
And the someone, not knowing about my internal struggle, brought up the Bible verse that says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart" and taught me what the verse really means. It does not mean that God is a genie and gives you what you desire; it means he gives you the desires themselves. This was from Him and even though it was CRAZY, I could kind of see His point: I love children; I have always felt like I was created to be a mom; Even in unemployment, I was so blessed and more than many other people. So I eventually kind of accepted the premise and said, "Okay, God, FINE! I'll be a foster mom. Someday. But I have no income and I live in my sister's house. That's not really an option right now. So, thanks and all, but can I have a different answer? One that's more applicable to my immediate issues? Like a JOB?"
And then God laughed and laughed. I mean, ahem. He provided a way for me to move to Texas and start a new life here. But here's the thing: this thought? It hasn't gone away (I thought it might. I maybe even hoped it might. I thought maybe it was a phase or a far-in-the-future thing that God allowed me to get a glimpse of). It disappeared from constant view amid the moving to Texas stuff, but a few weeks into my new job here, there was a day that was like ADOPTIONPALOOZA in my life. Among other things that happened that day, I was researching something else entirely and came across a fostering site with pictures of kids waiting for homes (side note, I'm not sure how I feel about this, since it feels a little like a department store website where you can pick out the prettiest dress or something...), then a blogger I read announced they were adopting and talked about THE SAME struggles I'd had and how they worked through them, AND THEN the novel I was reading to took a radical and unforeseen turn that ended with the main character taking custody of several children. And the whispering began again, but slightly different this time:
"I gave you the job you asked for. I will soon provide a home. You're out of excuses; it's time to be a foster mom."And that's where I've been ever since. I'm nearly in tears as I write this, because I don't know what any of this means. I don't know how hard this is going to be, and I don't know how to accomplish any of it. I don't even know if I can afford a place with more than one bedroom, which would be required. I'm barely on my feet financially. I'm just starting to feel emotionally healthy after the angst of the last few years. And I have no idea how this will affect my future. Will I end up adopting, or will I just be a safe place for a child for a little while before they reunite with their family? Will I get married and have biological children, too, or is this a completely separate path? Is this actually some selfish way for me to be a mom without waiting through the hard stuff that singleness means? I don't have much of it figured out, but if God gave me this desire, He will provide a way to make it happen. And every morning, I wake up thinking about where I'm going to live and how I'm going to follow this leading, about who this kid is going to be. Because now? Now I don't just need to be a foster mom, I want it with all my heart.
3.14.2013
Texas, You Had Better Have Tissues
So, um... I'm moving to Texas.
Many of you who know me on twitter or were at PJs at TJ's this year probably already know that. But, in case you missed it, as many people in my personal life have, I'm MOVING to TEXAS.
Fair warning, this post is likely to be both CAPSLOCKY and incoherently babblish. Just FYI. Becaaaaauuuse: I'm moving to Texas in FOUR DAYS. And I have not packed a THING.
Here's the deal. Waaaay back in July (so like four posts ago on this here blog of abject neglect), I visited Linnea and her family in the DFW area. I got to meet her super cute, super schmooshy baby (who has grown into a super cute, slightly less schmooshy TODDLER, but that's a different story altogether) and her great husband and her sweet pets and her lovely friends. Through the planning phase of that trip, we joked about me meeting a cowboy/oil barron and getting married and just staying in Texas. And then when I got there, we joked about me finding a job there and living in Linnea's spare bedroom. And then about half-way through the trip, we kind of sort of somewhat a lot stopped joking. By the time I got on a plane to come home, I had half-way convinced myself that it was POSSIBLE to perhaps, SOMEDAY maybe try to sort of spend some more time in the general DFW area. Because I am a decisive person with a firm five-year plan for the future. Ahem.
Anyway, I got home and, as I had suspected, I remembered all of the reasons I love Far North and that I was actually very comfortable here, despite all of the REALLY GOOD reasons I had come up with while IN Texas for why Far North wasn't doing it for me anymore. Except. Those REALLY GOOD reasons wouldn't go away. Reasons like: I had not worked in a year; I'm overweight and struggling to lose weight in the cold and the dark and the land of expensive produce; I'm single and there are very few single, eligible men in this town; I'm afraid to drive in the snow.
So I started praying about it. And I started googling about DFW and jobs and housing. And then, in a fateful staff meeting in August about our church's growth and seating capacity, one of the pastors said, "I don't want to build a new building or move. I want to stay right here and keep preaching and just ignore the problem. But that's a terrible way to preach the Gospel and that's not what God is asking us to do." And all I could hear in my head was "I don't want to move to Texas and start over. I want to stay right here and keep failing to meet my goals and just ignore the problem. But that's a terrible way to live and that's not what God is asking me to do."
For those of you of the faith-y persuasion, this might be a familiar thing. But I know that this has to sound CRAZY to those of you who don't do church or faith. And, to tell you the truth, it's a little bit crazy to me, too. But it also feels so incredibly right. I didn't hear an audible voice from the heavens--that would either make me insane or...Moses and I'm pretty sure I'm neither. But I did know, deep in my gut, that it was the best plan and I could feel this tug on my soul to move and grow and change and see what this opportunity had to offer.
Now, as I am wont to do, I procrastinated and hemmed and hawed and just generally ignored that moment of revelation. Well, ignored it as much as I could while it was nagging in the back of my head and the few people I'd mentioned it to kept nudging me and asking about it and basically shooing me in a southerly direction. I went on more interviews here and failed to get each and every single job, even ones that seemed like sure things (THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A SURE THING). And I applied for jobs there, saying I wouldn't go without a plan and having a job there was part of the plan, no "plan" materialized. And then a house-sitting job came up and then the holidays came and then there was PJs at TJ's and and and AND AND I was a big chicken.
All of this to say that I am FINALLY taking the leap. I have a room and a car waiting for me and a hope of some part-time nannying until I can secure permanent employment. I have no idea where this will lead and I had a whole post planned about all the BENEFITS! and LOGIC! and WISDOM! of moving to Texas, but.
Instead, in the middle of writing this, I was called into our church auditorium (I'm writing this form the church office, since I've been temping here all week) and they made a "blessing circle" around me. Which sounds so much more churchy and mystical than it really is. I don't even know if anyone else does this, but my Worship Pastor (who also happens to be my best friend, which makes this all the more difficult) has developed this tradition of sending people off in TEARS. I mean... Wait.
You see, whenever one of us is going away (either moving or being sent out on the mission field or away to long-term training or anything longer than a few months), he gathers the whole worship team and forces the Leaving to sit in the center with everyone staring at them while each person takes a turn telling the Leaver how much they've been personally blessed by them and how much they'll miss them and how grateful they are for the Leaver's service to the church and basically GUILTS them into staying because how can you leave when everyone loves you this much?! And then, after you've done the ugly cry in front of everyone you know and you've had to figure up the appropriate facial expression to wear when someone compliments your humble spirit (there is no humble way to take that compliment and still, you know, TAKE it) and you've resisted the urge to look behind you twelve million times because a) they MUST be talking about someone else because while you are awesome, you do not feel THIS awesome and b) there are PEOPLE behind you waiting to say nice things to you and probably noticing that the shirt you chose that morning isn't really long enough to cover your lower back while you're sitting in a discount rolling office chair... After all of THIS, everyone stands up and puts a hand on you and prays blessings over you and your ministry and calling and new life.
And it is an amazing experience. It's humbling and beautiful and scary and powerful and awkward and abut eighteen other adjectives. And I was crying and trying not to be to noisy about it and trying to remember every last word spoke and also trying to perfect my spontaneous teleportation powers so I disappear on the spot because, man, I do not deserve half of the kindness that was given to me tonight. I kept thinking that there is so much imperfect about me and my walk with Jesus and if these people, these people who've known me most of my life and who know me so well, could ACTUALLY see my heart, they might run way screaming from the mess that I am inside.
But I think that's the point. We are, none of us, perfect. But it was amazing for just a few minutes, to see myself as others saw me. Not to build myself up and pat myself on the back for being able to cover my mess so well, but to see the way I HAVE grown and the ways I AM serving the Lord and loving people. It was kind of eye-opening in its ordinariness.
Whoa. Okay, before I sink too far into a nostalgic burst of self-inflated psychoanalysis, I should stop and get some sleep. There is a whole house to clean in preparation of my good-bye party (which I'm kind of throwing for myself, which is probably incredibly terrible etiquette, but Sister says its her house and she called to invite everyone, so SHE'S throwing the party, which, okay.) and I'm meeting a friend for lunch and I broke the church's copier today (how's that for being a humble servant, huh? I'm going out with a bang, I guess), so I'm going in to meet the copier guy in the morning even though the church is technically closed. Oh, and I have library books to return and a million other things to do and OH HEY PACKING, so I need some sleep.
But a post about moving to Texas would not be complete without at least a small note to say that this is ALL THE INTERNET'S FAULT. That's right--I'm moving to texas because of YOU! I never would have met Linnea or EVER thought about moving to TEXAS OF ALL PLACES if it weren't for the Internet. And more specifically, if it weren't for TJ putting a link to this blog on hers and if it weren't for Linnea clicking that link and finding me and if it weren't for TJ throwing a slumber party with an open invitation that made me feel welcome and brave enough to meet the Internet in person. And I think all of that is just a little bit nuts, but it's also just about the coolest thing I've ever heard.
Many of you who know me on twitter or were at PJs at TJ's this year probably already know that. But, in case you missed it, as many people in my personal life have, I'm MOVING to TEXAS.
Fair warning, this post is likely to be both CAPSLOCKY and incoherently babblish. Just FYI. Becaaaaauuuse: I'm moving to Texas in FOUR DAYS. And I have not packed a THING.
Here's the deal. Waaaay back in July (so like four posts ago on this here blog of abject neglect), I visited Linnea and her family in the DFW area. I got to meet her super cute, super schmooshy baby (who has grown into a super cute, slightly less schmooshy TODDLER, but that's a different story altogether) and her great husband and her sweet pets and her lovely friends. Through the planning phase of that trip, we joked about me meeting a cowboy/oil barron and getting married and just staying in Texas. And then when I got there, we joked about me finding a job there and living in Linnea's spare bedroom. And then about half-way through the trip, we kind of sort of somewhat a lot stopped joking. By the time I got on a plane to come home, I had half-way convinced myself that it was POSSIBLE to perhaps, SOMEDAY maybe try to sort of spend some more time in the general DFW area. Because I am a decisive person with a firm five-year plan for the future. Ahem.
Anyway, I got home and, as I had suspected, I remembered all of the reasons I love Far North and that I was actually very comfortable here, despite all of the REALLY GOOD reasons I had come up with while IN Texas for why Far North wasn't doing it for me anymore. Except. Those REALLY GOOD reasons wouldn't go away. Reasons like: I had not worked in a year; I'm overweight and struggling to lose weight in the cold and the dark and the land of expensive produce; I'm single and there are very few single, eligible men in this town; I'm afraid to drive in the snow.
So I started praying about it. And I started googling about DFW and jobs and housing. And then, in a fateful staff meeting in August about our church's growth and seating capacity, one of the pastors said, "I don't want to build a new building or move. I want to stay right here and keep preaching and just ignore the problem. But that's a terrible way to preach the Gospel and that's not what God is asking us to do." And all I could hear in my head was "I don't want to move to Texas and start over. I want to stay right here and keep failing to meet my goals and just ignore the problem. But that's a terrible way to live and that's not what God is asking me to do."
For those of you of the faith-y persuasion, this might be a familiar thing. But I know that this has to sound CRAZY to those of you who don't do church or faith. And, to tell you the truth, it's a little bit crazy to me, too. But it also feels so incredibly right. I didn't hear an audible voice from the heavens--that would either make me insane or...Moses and I'm pretty sure I'm neither. But I did know, deep in my gut, that it was the best plan and I could feel this tug on my soul to move and grow and change and see what this opportunity had to offer.
Now, as I am wont to do, I procrastinated and hemmed and hawed and just generally ignored that moment of revelation. Well, ignored it as much as I could while it was nagging in the back of my head and the few people I'd mentioned it to kept nudging me and asking about it and basically shooing me in a southerly direction. I went on more interviews here and failed to get each and every single job, even ones that seemed like sure things (THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A SURE THING). And I applied for jobs there, saying I wouldn't go without a plan and having a job there was part of the plan, no "plan" materialized. And then a house-sitting job came up and then the holidays came and then there was PJs at TJ's and and and AND AND I was a big chicken.
All of this to say that I am FINALLY taking the leap. I have a room and a car waiting for me and a hope of some part-time nannying until I can secure permanent employment. I have no idea where this will lead and I had a whole post planned about all the BENEFITS! and LOGIC! and WISDOM! of moving to Texas, but.
Instead, in the middle of writing this, I was called into our church auditorium (I'm writing this form the church office, since I've been temping here all week) and they made a "blessing circle" around me. Which sounds so much more churchy and mystical than it really is. I don't even know if anyone else does this, but my Worship Pastor (who also happens to be my best friend, which makes this all the more difficult) has developed this tradition of sending people off in TEARS. I mean... Wait.
You see, whenever one of us is going away (either moving or being sent out on the mission field or away to long-term training or anything longer than a few months), he gathers the whole worship team and forces the Leaving to sit in the center with everyone staring at them while each person takes a turn telling the Leaver how much they've been personally blessed by them and how much they'll miss them and how grateful they are for the Leaver's service to the church and basically GUILTS them into staying because how can you leave when everyone loves you this much?! And then, after you've done the ugly cry in front of everyone you know and you've had to figure up the appropriate facial expression to wear when someone compliments your humble spirit (there is no humble way to take that compliment and still, you know, TAKE it) and you've resisted the urge to look behind you twelve million times because a) they MUST be talking about someone else because while you are awesome, you do not feel THIS awesome and b) there are PEOPLE behind you waiting to say nice things to you and probably noticing that the shirt you chose that morning isn't really long enough to cover your lower back while you're sitting in a discount rolling office chair... After all of THIS, everyone stands up and puts a hand on you and prays blessings over you and your ministry and calling and new life.
And it is an amazing experience. It's humbling and beautiful and scary and powerful and awkward and abut eighteen other adjectives. And I was crying and trying not to be to noisy about it and trying to remember every last word spoke and also trying to perfect my spontaneous teleportation powers so I disappear on the spot because, man, I do not deserve half of the kindness that was given to me tonight. I kept thinking that there is so much imperfect about me and my walk with Jesus and if these people, these people who've known me most of my life and who know me so well, could ACTUALLY see my heart, they might run way screaming from the mess that I am inside.
But I think that's the point. We are, none of us, perfect. But it was amazing for just a few minutes, to see myself as others saw me. Not to build myself up and pat myself on the back for being able to cover my mess so well, but to see the way I HAVE grown and the ways I AM serving the Lord and loving people. It was kind of eye-opening in its ordinariness.
Whoa. Okay, before I sink too far into a nostalgic burst of self-inflated psychoanalysis, I should stop and get some sleep. There is a whole house to clean in preparation of my good-bye party (which I'm kind of throwing for myself, which is probably incredibly terrible etiquette, but Sister says its her house and she called to invite everyone, so SHE'S throwing the party, which, okay.) and I'm meeting a friend for lunch and I broke the church's copier today (how's that for being a humble servant, huh? I'm going out with a bang, I guess), so I'm going in to meet the copier guy in the morning even though the church is technically closed. Oh, and I have library books to return and a million other things to do and OH HEY PACKING, so I need some sleep.
But a post about moving to Texas would not be complete without at least a small note to say that this is ALL THE INTERNET'S FAULT. That's right--I'm moving to texas because of YOU! I never would have met Linnea or EVER thought about moving to TEXAS OF ALL PLACES if it weren't for the Internet. And more specifically, if it weren't for TJ putting a link to this blog on hers and if it weren't for Linnea clicking that link and finding me and if it weren't for TJ throwing a slumber party with an open invitation that made me feel welcome and brave enough to meet the Internet in person. And I think all of that is just a little bit nuts, but it's also just about the coolest thing I've ever heard.
11.28.2012
For All the Lost and Lonely
I am so lost right now, you guys. Life is really hard and I can't seem to write about anything other than my sorrows. But as I wrote this today, unsure of whether I would post it or just use it as a cathartic mind-dump and delete it, I found something interesting. I may be lost in the woods, but I can't possibly be the only one out here. With the economy the way it's been for the last several years and life being the grab bag of shits and giggles that it can be, a lot of us are a little lost these days. So I'm going to share where I'm at. Partly as catharsis and partly to tell you you're not alone, either. I'm not so full of myself to pretend I have any kind of solution, which you will see clearly as you read about the train wreck that is my life recently, but maybe you and I can find some hope together.
I spend a lot of my time actively not thinking about where my life is right now. It's nowhere near where I want it to be, but over the last year, I have managed to strengthen my denial muscle. I blithely move throughout my days, doing little projects, volunteering at church, picking up odd jobs here and there, pretending I'm not standing on a razor thin wire of hope that's growing more and more tenuous each day. There are the days that I forget to hold the denial muscle tight (like when I glance at my bank account) and I get a little bit sucker punched by the weight of all that I am not doing or cannot change. There is a physical pain in my stomach and a weight pressing on my chest that often takes my breath away with how suddenly it hits. But I take a few deep breaths and pull the muscle taut again. I just keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Because what other choice do I have?
But then there are days, days like today, when something happens and the denial muscle snaps and sprains and hangs limp. When I get an early morning phone call telling me that I ONCE AGAIN did not get a job. A job I interviewed for less than twenty-four hours before. An interview that used up four hours of my life, 90 miles' worth of gas, and an hour and a half's worth of patience while I waited around for a second interview that never happened. On those days, everything comes into stark focus and my denial muscle is useless from the effort of holding it all at bay. On those days, I get up in the morning and I make my coffee and I sit on the couch and I just cry.
Major areas of my life are in shambles. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but they all feel pretty broken to me. The biggest and most pressing is the job issue. It has been 422 days since I have worked. Four hundred and twenty-two. (That's longer than it takes to gestate a human baby. Or a horse. But less than an elephant. So, you know, hope...?) I've taken a temp job here and there, I've done two stints as a week-long overnight nanny, and I've house-sat for almost everyone in my church. But I have not held a real nine-to-five-here's-a-paycheck-every-two-weeks-and-also-some-benefits-so-you-don't-die-of-scurvy kind of job in 13 months. And my bank account grows sadly smaller every day.
I have no idea how I'm going to do Christmas this year. I am blessed to have a family that doesn't care about gifts, but it makes me feel so...small...that I can't participate in the simplest things. When we go out to lunch as a family, my father pays the bill with his credit card and everyone hands over cash for their portion. Except for me, because I can't. My parents recently bought themselves a new car and gave me my mother's old one. To replace the one I had been driving, which was my fathers old car. And I can't even afford the insurance on either of these borrowed cars, so they pay that, too. I haven't paid rent to Sister since August. But my family doesn't blink, they just give. They know I'll settle up when things get better. But things aren't getting better. 422 days, you guys.
Another thing that pulls me down and discourages me is my weight. I am heavier than I have ever been in my whole life. I have gained back all of the weight I worked so hard to lose in college. And then some. And then some more. I don't fit into most of my clothes, but I can't really afford to replace them, even if I had the emotional fortitude to go try things on right now. I see new stretch marks in the mirror every day and my ass is the size of Montana. My double ass.
And I KNOW, alright? I know that I have complete control over how much I weigh. I know the simple formula of calories in minus more calories out equals weight-loss. And I have PLENTY OF TIME to exercise, what with the not working ever. That knowledge just makes everything harder, because (and this is going to sound like the giant excuse that it is) I am just so demoralized. I have absolutely no motivation. You'd think the above paragraph would be enough to spur me into activity (and it is, on occasion, for about three days). But it's cold and dark here and food makes me happy. On days when I'm not sure that things are ever going to turn around for me, it's one of the only things that does.
And this leads me directly to the another GIANT VACUUM OF LACK: love, marriage, and children. Because who wants to marry a sad, unemployed, stretch-marked loser who sits on her couch all day? No one, as my experience has taught me. As much as it pains me to admit this, I KNOW I'm not in any frame of mind to be someone's partner, to enter into a deep and meaningful relationship right now. That's probably the hardest part--I am aware of how defeated I have become and I HATE it (see the previousword vomit paragraphs). Obviously, I'm not in the most positive headspace right now. And while there may be men out there who can look beyond a woman's physical appearance to see her inner beauty (which I also feel like I'm lacking), I am pretty sure I'm not going to be turning any heads in my current physical state.
Part of me (the pragmatic, logical part of me) is okay with that, because this is NOT who I want to be in a relationship. But when I get to thinking on a broader scale of where I want my life to be, the thing that comes to the forefront each and every time is that I want to be a wife and mother. I don't want to be an accountant; I don't want to be a graphic designer; I don't want to run for office or fly to the moon. I just want to be someone's wife and someone's mom. I'm not opposed to working (seriously, COME ON, I have been searching for a job for over a year) and I'm not opposed to being a working mom if that's what I need to do. But I was MADE to be a mom. I can feel it in my bones, every time I play with my godkids or hear a funny story about my niece or nephew. The weeks of nannying, while difficult for many reasons, felt like I'd scored an exclusive internships for the top job in my field.
So when I look at my life, I feel a little hopeless. I feel like I can't gain any traction on my weight-loss until I get a job that will take me out of this house and away from the ever-present pantry. And I can't even begin to contemplate putting myself out there romantically until I feel a little bit better about my body. And I can't seem to find a job to save my life. Are you sensing a Cycle of Apathy and Self-Loathing? Yeah, me, too. I feel trapped in limbo and something has got to give soon.
Don't get me wrong. I have SO MANY good things in my life. Compared to some of the stories I read on the internet and things I see on the news, I have it SO GOOD. I have a warm home (despite being unable to pay rent) that has not been damaged by a hurricane or is otherwise unsafe for me to live in. I never have to deal with the exhaustion that comes from dysfunctional family drama or the heartache of loving someone with a chronic or terminal illness (for the most part--we recently discovered that my mother's brain tumor is back, but it's not nearly as terrifying as it sounds and I'll get to that in another post). I, myself, am not suffering from any debilitating health problems; I don't live in chronic pain. And, as much as I want to be a mom, I'm thankful I don't have children that are going hungry because of my financial situation. I am young and healthy and blessed and I will bounce back from this. Eventually.
So I try to focus on those things. I truly do. But on days like this, I can't help but think that those good things don't make the bad things any less bad. It doesn't matter how much worse off someone else is. This sucks! My life is HARD right now, even if it's not as difficult as it could be.
If there's one thing I've learned in this past year, it's that perspective can be a cold comfort. Lots of people want to give me advice right now and, as well-meaning as it can be, it drives me crazy when they tell me it could be worse. Because the comparison game is a two-edged sword. It reveals our blessings, which can be useful for finding our footing in the chaos. But it also serves to artificially downplay our own pain. Which is completely unfair. Because it IS painful. And it's OUR pain, not someone else's. It's happening to US and it's happening RIGHT NOW and it should be okay to say that it HURTS.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that there IS a silver lining to this terribly stormy cloud, even if it's hard to see when you're stuck in the rain or feel like you're trapped inside the vapor. And it's NOT perspective, which you probably have plenty of already, and it's not all of the blessings in your life, which I know you're aware of (how could you not be, when they may be all you have left to hold on to?). It's that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. And it's okay to say it hurts.
So please, if you're feeling as lost as I am, talk to me. Tell me how hard it's been. Scream and rant and rave in my comment section. I'm hurting, too, and together we might be able to find some light in this darkness. It will get better. I've been told again and again that it will. And I believe it. Most days. But on days like to day, I just need to say that it hurts. And maybe you do, too.
I spend a lot of my time actively not thinking about where my life is right now. It's nowhere near where I want it to be, but over the last year, I have managed to strengthen my denial muscle. I blithely move throughout my days, doing little projects, volunteering at church, picking up odd jobs here and there, pretending I'm not standing on a razor thin wire of hope that's growing more and more tenuous each day. There are the days that I forget to hold the denial muscle tight (like when I glance at my bank account) and I get a little bit sucker punched by the weight of all that I am not doing or cannot change. There is a physical pain in my stomach and a weight pressing on my chest that often takes my breath away with how suddenly it hits. But I take a few deep breaths and pull the muscle taut again. I just keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Because what other choice do I have?
But then there are days, days like today, when something happens and the denial muscle snaps and sprains and hangs limp. When I get an early morning phone call telling me that I ONCE AGAIN did not get a job. A job I interviewed for less than twenty-four hours before. An interview that used up four hours of my life, 90 miles' worth of gas, and an hour and a half's worth of patience while I waited around for a second interview that never happened. On those days, everything comes into stark focus and my denial muscle is useless from the effort of holding it all at bay. On those days, I get up in the morning and I make my coffee and I sit on the couch and I just cry.
Major areas of my life are in shambles. I know that sounds like hyperbole, but they all feel pretty broken to me. The biggest and most pressing is the job issue. It has been 422 days since I have worked. Four hundred and twenty-two. (That's longer than it takes to gestate a human baby. Or a horse. But less than an elephant. So, you know, hope...?) I've taken a temp job here and there, I've done two stints as a week-long overnight nanny, and I've house-sat for almost everyone in my church. But I have not held a real nine-to-five-here's-a-paycheck-every-two-weeks-and-also-some-benefits-so-you-don't-die-of-scurvy kind of job in 13 months. And my bank account grows sadly smaller every day.
I have no idea how I'm going to do Christmas this year. I am blessed to have a family that doesn't care about gifts, but it makes me feel so...small...that I can't participate in the simplest things. When we go out to lunch as a family, my father pays the bill with his credit card and everyone hands over cash for their portion. Except for me, because I can't. My parents recently bought themselves a new car and gave me my mother's old one. To replace the one I had been driving, which was my fathers old car. And I can't even afford the insurance on either of these borrowed cars, so they pay that, too. I haven't paid rent to Sister since August. But my family doesn't blink, they just give. They know I'll settle up when things get better. But things aren't getting better. 422 days, you guys.
Another thing that pulls me down and discourages me is my weight. I am heavier than I have ever been in my whole life. I have gained back all of the weight I worked so hard to lose in college. And then some. And then some more. I don't fit into most of my clothes, but I can't really afford to replace them, even if I had the emotional fortitude to go try things on right now. I see new stretch marks in the mirror every day and my ass is the size of Montana. My double ass.
And I KNOW, alright? I know that I have complete control over how much I weigh. I know the simple formula of calories in minus more calories out equals weight-loss. And I have PLENTY OF TIME to exercise, what with the not working ever. That knowledge just makes everything harder, because (and this is going to sound like the giant excuse that it is) I am just so demoralized. I have absolutely no motivation. You'd think the above paragraph would be enough to spur me into activity (and it is, on occasion, for about three days). But it's cold and dark here and food makes me happy. On days when I'm not sure that things are ever going to turn around for me, it's one of the only things that does.
And this leads me directly to the another GIANT VACUUM OF LACK: love, marriage, and children. Because who wants to marry a sad, unemployed, stretch-marked loser who sits on her couch all day? No one, as my experience has taught me. As much as it pains me to admit this, I KNOW I'm not in any frame of mind to be someone's partner, to enter into a deep and meaningful relationship right now. That's probably the hardest part--I am aware of how defeated I have become and I HATE it (see the previous
Part of me (the pragmatic, logical part of me) is okay with that, because this is NOT who I want to be in a relationship. But when I get to thinking on a broader scale of where I want my life to be, the thing that comes to the forefront each and every time is that I want to be a wife and mother. I don't want to be an accountant; I don't want to be a graphic designer; I don't want to run for office or fly to the moon. I just want to be someone's wife and someone's mom. I'm not opposed to working (seriously, COME ON, I have been searching for a job for over a year) and I'm not opposed to being a working mom if that's what I need to do. But I was MADE to be a mom. I can feel it in my bones, every time I play with my godkids or hear a funny story about my niece or nephew. The weeks of nannying, while difficult for many reasons, felt like I'd scored an exclusive internships for the top job in my field.
So when I look at my life, I feel a little hopeless. I feel like I can't gain any traction on my weight-loss until I get a job that will take me out of this house and away from the ever-present pantry. And I can't even begin to contemplate putting myself out there romantically until I feel a little bit better about my body. And I can't seem to find a job to save my life. Are you sensing a Cycle of Apathy and Self-Loathing? Yeah, me, too. I feel trapped in limbo and something has got to give soon.
Don't get me wrong. I have SO MANY good things in my life. Compared to some of the stories I read on the internet and things I see on the news, I have it SO GOOD. I have a warm home (despite being unable to pay rent) that has not been damaged by a hurricane or is otherwise unsafe for me to live in. I never have to deal with the exhaustion that comes from dysfunctional family drama or the heartache of loving someone with a chronic or terminal illness (for the most part--we recently discovered that my mother's brain tumor is back, but it's not nearly as terrifying as it sounds and I'll get to that in another post). I, myself, am not suffering from any debilitating health problems; I don't live in chronic pain. And, as much as I want to be a mom, I'm thankful I don't have children that are going hungry because of my financial situation. I am young and healthy and blessed and I will bounce back from this. Eventually.
So I try to focus on those things. I truly do. But on days like this, I can't help but think that those good things don't make the bad things any less bad. It doesn't matter how much worse off someone else is. This sucks! My life is HARD right now, even if it's not as difficult as it could be.
If there's one thing I've learned in this past year, it's that perspective can be a cold comfort. Lots of people want to give me advice right now and, as well-meaning as it can be, it drives me crazy when they tell me it could be worse. Because the comparison game is a two-edged sword. It reveals our blessings, which can be useful for finding our footing in the chaos. But it also serves to artificially downplay our own pain. Which is completely unfair. Because it IS painful. And it's OUR pain, not someone else's. It's happening to US and it's happening RIGHT NOW and it should be okay to say that it HURTS.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that there IS a silver lining to this terribly stormy cloud, even if it's hard to see when you're stuck in the rain or feel like you're trapped inside the vapor. And it's NOT perspective, which you probably have plenty of already, and it's not all of the blessings in your life, which I know you're aware of (how could you not be, when they may be all you have left to hold on to?). It's that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. And it's okay to say it hurts.
So please, if you're feeling as lost as I am, talk to me. Tell me how hard it's been. Scream and rant and rave in my comment section. I'm hurting, too, and together we might be able to find some light in this darkness. It will get better. I've been told again and again that it will. And I believe it. Most days. But on days like to day, I just need to say that it hurts. And maybe you do, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)