This is an honest entry I am about to begin here. Being honest is hard when you are a writer and also pertinent to your success. Not that I call myself a successful writer as far as worldly standards go..I am yet to be published, though it is my dream, and no one knows my name. I am the nameless one.
My husband is quickly becoming known as far as some crowds go, due to his musical talents. That is awesome and I support him in all of his directives. But this cannot solely be my job. Even as a christian wife, this is not legit. God made me creatively and uniquely to fill a role only I can fill, as well as being my husband's helper. I think I forgot this for a long time. Like, 8 years. I have shelved so many things that bring happiness and fulfillment to my heart. Like writing for instance. I used to make a point to write every single day, whether it was poetry, journaling, or the jottings of a crazed woman making pleas with the invisible reader. I would journal as if I was Anne Frank and someone would find my writings after my peril. Or like I had something really important to say that no person has ever had the guts to say before. But the truth was, and maybe still is, okay, definitely still is, is that I am terrified to write down my true feelings, because I know they will surely hurt someone, or embarrass the hell out of me or my children one day. My parents might disown me for my lack of confidence in my upbringing. Maybe the fact is is that I am highly in need of some really helpful professional therapy to discover what causes my occasional meltdowns/anxiety attacks and bouts with depression and self-loathing...or perhaps I am merely human and need to just brush all the negativity under the carpet so that I can attempt to see the brighter, more defined aspects of beauty in this fleeting, ridiculous life. Maybe it just happens to be dreary and raining today and I have more difficulty seeing the world through an optimistic lens. Yes, that is probably it.
I am absolutely going through a whole season where I learn to have lower expectations on people I love. Not because they aren't worthy of the highest expectations, but because it's not healthy for my expectations to be so high on them and then get so disappointed when they don't do the things I expect of them. This probably makes me sound lousy either way, but that's why I gave the introductory disclaimer that this was going to be an "honest entry". I guess I am just so tired some days of the things Christianity calls me to, such as apologizing and endless forgiveness, and pressing on cheerfully when I have a tendency to dwell on things sometimes; being loving when I feel like hating, keeping my eyes on the promises God has given me and keeping that hope alive, rather than assessing the situation with the physical facts I am presented with and maybe losing hope and the energy to continue on joyfully or peacefully. I am still wrestling so hard with how to simply enjoy this life! Why? Ugh. I am so sickened with myself some days. This also is not a blog in which I expect ANY responses to my self pity, because that's not what I'm trying to do here, I don't want anyone to end up rolling their eyes at how depressing I am or feeling obliged to "lift me up" out of my current state of depression...I am not suicidal so to speak, I want to LIVE! I want to breathe easy and not take things so seriously, but I find it nearly impossible.
The thought I had last night that seems to be the anthem of my flow of thoughts lately is: I wish I could start over, like from point A. Like on Solitaire, when you lose and it gives you the option to: Start this game over from the beginning, or start a brand new game. I just want sometimes to start this particular game over. But I know that would only be a personal hell of its own making, so what's the point?
In the end, I know that even though some days I want to throw in the towel to the things Christianity calls me to, it is also the vein to life and treasures which have no end. I hate the process some days, the "not losing heart in doing good for in due time it will reap a harvest if I don't give up" stuff, but it is all so eternally and even momentarily worth the effort and the dying of myself to my own will and the things that bring me so much personal, internal pain that I often take out on my precious family.
Being a true follower of Christ and his ways is frigging hard. There are so many eyes on you to prove them wrong on the thousands of years of bad names people inside the church have given it. Like religious freaks, hypocrites and division-makers they can be. Or maybe I am just imagining it. I am just so conflicted lately. I just feel coo-coo sometimes. Nuts. I was thinking yesterday about the truth that if you are really wealthy, it's okay to be crazy and end up in a loony bin for a spell to "rest", but when you're broke as a joke, you better get your mental crap together lest you look like a complete failure. What is wrong with my brain/heart/emotions? Why do I seem so broken and un-fixable lately? I just need Jesus so bad, every day. Every second. And that is the truth.
