Day 349

Everything probably isn’t going well…

…but I’m too overwhelmed to really let myself feel it.  To let it all sink in, because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll just fall to pieces entirely.

I feel like a complete failure.  Like I don’t know what I’m doing most days.  I have no idea if I can date.  I really don’t think I can, especially after today.

There is so much I still have left to work on.  I am selfish, and ungrateful.  How do you find a balance between fair and crossing the line when you live with someone?  I don’t understand how people live together for the rest of their lives.  That’s a long time.  And it feels like such a foreign thought.  How do you not grow to hate each other?

I don’t think I have what it takes to be a mom.  I don’t think I have it in me.  I don’t think I can be anyone’s wife.

I just don’t think I can do it.  I think I’m exactly who Paul is preaching to when he talks of singleness.

I haven’t been able to reach my parents, and they haven’t been able to reach me.  I miss them so much.  And just through text Mom has been saying, “Dad hasn’t been doing well since you left.”

And immediately that makes me want to go back.  I thought to myself, I could sell all my things, move back to California, live in my parents’ living room, and find a night job.  That way Mom could work during the day and I can work at night, and Dad would always have someone there to care for him.  I could watch Steven.  I could take care of Grandma.  I could be there.  I could sacrifice Memphis, and move back.  Nineveh.  That’s essentially what Stockton is.  And I’m Jonah.   I feel a whale approaching…

I’m struggling.

Volunteering is wearing on me.  It didn’t take me long to realize that not many people volunteer for their churches—not enough anyway.  What I used to love, well, I still love it, but I have so much less energy.  I wish more people would volunteer.  The producer-consumer ratio is really off.

What am I doing with my life?  What am I doing with myself?

Today was a sad day.  Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

You know it’s bad when they ask for prayers.  They don’t ask.  That’s just how it is.  Why am I not there with them, God?

Day 257

These last two weeks have been really difficult.

Like, the kind of difficult where I'm surprised I: still have a job, the engine in my car hasn’t exploded, neither of my dogs are dead, and I wasn't evicted.

That kind of difficult where everything has gone wrong.

This is probably the lowest point I've been in the entire OYC, but it's also probably the lowest point I've been as a believer.  A part of me never expected to feel this low again, subconsciously thinking being a follower of Christ would make the pain easier.

Well, I wish I could say it had.

But I'm struggling to stay afloat.  Every piece of me is spiritually hurting, definitely emotionally hurting, and even physically hurting.  One stint after another.  And I'm exhausted.  I'm exhausted from just...trying to stay afloat.

I'm in The Word, I'm praying, I am talking to God, but does any of it—has any of it helped me focus on the eternity instead of the now?

No, I'm crying out, "That's a great suggestion, God, but I'm in the world right now, I'm human, and I'm hurting!  The view from down here sucks and I'm drowning!"

So many pitfalls this week...  Innumerable...  As time has gone on, I've had those moments where you laugh to keep from crying.  You know those moments, right?

The I sent my rent check in the mail and it was lost moment...

The I went to the ER and insurance actually doesn't cover this moment...

The My dog had diarrhea again and I just finished cleaning the first round up moment...

The My cracked windshield is the one thing my full coverage doesn't cover moment...

The The friend I thought I could count on to understand, doesn't moment...

The She's my mother and she just said something that emotionally broke me moment...

The I washed my favorite shirt like always and it ripped in the machine moment...

The The customer I thought would always treat me with respect threw me under the bus moment...

The The client I've been working my ass off to help left me for another provider moment...

The The venue I wanted has been available this whole time and now it's not moment...

The Yet another couple formed and I'm still single moment...

The I have GPS and it automatically updated without my permission and now doesn't work when I'm out of town and need it the most moment...

I have had my share of moments these last few weeks, and I just want to throw up my flag.  What's worse is I really just want to say I don't care...  I want to shove it down and bury it and pretend like everything's okay.  Because I have God now and everything is supposed to be okay, right?  Why is that easier said than done?  Why is it not pinned to my heart like I thought it was?

I don't want to be the Christian whose seed of faith dies in the summer heat, when the difficult times arise.  And I don't think I am, but God...I feel like I'm going to break at any moment...the next moment.  And...

...where are you in this?

Day 216

I had my first talk about Christianity with a non-believer the other day.

It went awesome…

Yeah, awesomely terrible.

I walked away being called, “judgmental,” and, “a hypocrite,” and, “small-minded.”

The rejection hurt—a lot, but, really what hurt worse was that I felt like I had committed some form of injustice towards Jesus.

Did I not express Him in the right words?

Did I not share enough of myself?

Should I have said something differently?

I think a friendship ended, and that in itself hurt, too.  I always heard you’d have to make sacrifices, but I guess I never thought that someone would walk away from me because of my beliefs.  It’s a hard pill to swallow.

I could take the stabs of “judgmental,” and, “a hypocrite,” because I think anyone who truly understands being saved by Jesus and having a relationship instead of a religion understands what a Christian walk looks like.  Aka, walking in grace as imperfect people who deserve death and are trying to share that grace with others—not perfect people who look down on others for not believing in Christ.

We know The Great Commission.  Save people.

Why is it so hard to share that with non-believers?  Our desire to talk comes from our desire to love, not condemn.

And I don’t think Christians are small-minded at all.

We put our faith in that which we do not see.

What is small-minded about that?

I'd argue that we are large-minded, but, even more than that, kingdom-hearted, trying to bring our brothers back to Him.

God, just help me in this arena of speaking with people about my faith.  Let the sorrow remain of the loss, but give me the strength to persevere.  It’s Your will that I share You, whether I’m rejected or not.  And just let me focus on You.  And please open the ears and hearts of those around me to You.

Day 188

People always leave.

Underneath all my issues lies this.  The perception that has been shaping me since I was young.

Prepare your heart, Jamie, because people always leave.

Don’t let her in, Jamie, because she’s going to leave.

Don’t talk to him, Jamie, because he’s going to leave.

And then something happened.

I let people in.  And.

They left.

As much as I’m trying to reach out, it’s not enough to bring them back.  They’re gone.  That time of my life is over, and it hurts.  It’s on my heart daily.  And I’m furious with God.

Why would He give just to take away?  I had everything I wanted for four months, and now it’s like it never existed.  Why would you do this to me?  Don’t You love me?

Maybe I was naïve.  Naïve to think I could withdraw and return when I was emotionally ready to an intact, unchanged community.  Maybe I was more desperate for community than anyone else there.  Maybe I wasn’t good enough for them to want to stay.  Maybe I just wasn’t enough.  Whatever it is, it’s like trying to hold onto sand.  It’s all just fading away—it’s faded away, and there’s nothing I can do to bring them back.

So why do I keep trying?  The more I try, the more hurt I am.

They’ve left, Jamie!  They’re not coming back.  It’s not going to be like it was, and it won’t be ever again.

So, knowing that, why does it still hurt?

Because my deepest fear was reinforced.  I let people into my heart, I loved them so much, and now we can’t even make time for one another.  It’s true.  It’s true.  People always leave.  What’s the point of letting people in if they’re bound to leave?

I’m struggling so much with this.

What friends do I let into my life?  Girl friends will eventually find husbands and they won’t make time for me—suddenly life revolves around someone else and I disappear.  Guy friends will eventually find wives and the dynamic of our friendship will change.  They move on…why can’t I move on?

Tell my why, God.  I’m asking You now, show me why I need to let people in if they’re bound to walk away?

What’s the point?

-----------------

Minutes after writing this, I checked my Twitter and came upon Priscilla Shirer’s tweet.

Maybe there’s purpose in the pain.  I’m just not looking deep enough.

Day 179

It had just begun to rain.

I ran upstairs, just making it home from work.  Changing clothes, I almost looked like the surfers for which my native state is so well known.  Long tangled hair, an oversized hoody, and shorts.

The dogs and I ran downstairs, and I just kind of stood in the rain, waiting on them.

From behind us, I heard the familiar sound of the security cart.  The guards make their rounds quite often and an older man is usually on shift when I come home.  When he passes, he normally greets us with a friendly wave.

But when I turned today, it was a guy who had to be younger than me.  So I waved, awkwardly.  He was already smiling, and said something as he passed that I couldn’t quite hear.

Sensing my confusion, he shouted.

“You’re beautiful…you’re beautiful…you’re beautiful!”

All the way down the street.

I laughed.

Really?

The dogs and I walked back up the stairs, and I closed the door behind me.  Half of me was entertained, but the other half of me was frustrated.

I could have a guy tell me I’m beautiful every day and I still wouldn’t believe it.  At this point, it just hurts.  Why does it hurt?

When I was younger, making myself beautiful meant making myself into something men wanted.

And I wanted to beautiful.  Desperately.  And how better to know what a man would want than to watch porn and read magazines like Maxim?

Scantily clad and sexy, and sexual, these women were what every man wanted, and I wanted to be just like them.  And I was.

I based my worth the men around me.

And now that I’m abstaining from sex and not dating, where does that leave me?  Where do I find my beauty?  What is beauty when it’s not based on the perception of someone else?  How do I become okay with myself?  How do I find myself beautiful when the only scale I’ve ever known is void and null?

Because now I hear men call me beautiful and it means nothing.  I’ve always exchanged myself for compliments.  So I think that’s why I become so agitated.  Because I trained myself to believe when someone calls me beautiful, it’s because they expect an exchange.

So, God, what is it?

Now that there’s no exchange, there’s just You.  And how can I feel beautiful in You?  I don’t want to hurt over this anymore.  I want to be okay.  I should be able to take compliments, right?  This isn’t normal.  Help me work through this, because this is one struggle I have no idea how to overcome or navigate.  Please show me how to love myself and let go of the past, and know compliments aren’t currency to be exchanged for goods.

Day 145

Hope is knowing your tomorrow is going to be better than your yesterday.
Tony Evans, Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship

------------------------------------------------

The Queen sat atop her hoisted chair, leg thrown over its arm.  She barely looked down at the girl, seemingly bored.  She smoothed her dress linens as if no one else was in the room.

The young girl looked on, not anticipating the coming conversation.

There was a moist smugness in her voice.  The Queen was beautiful.  Stunning, ravishing—the epitome of beauty.  Her textured crown lay adeptly on layers of raven hair.  Her ivory skin was perfectly powdered.  Gorgeous in semblance, but her spirit was darker than the onyx that hung in her diadem.  No light reflected in her empty eyes.

“Remember when you were but a child, and no one wanted you then?” she mused.

The girl shuddered, but nodded.

“Wasn’t it better then, alone?  You didn’t hurt anyone then.  You didn’t have anyone to hurt.  You saw the look in her eyes last night, you know what the others girls think of you.  Wasn’t it easier not having to worry about that?  Now you’re hurting people.”  She trilled her tongue.

Mara’s eyes met the floor.  She was right.  These new friendships in her life, she wasn’t capable of handling them.  She was better off alone, not hurting people.  It seemed like she couldn’t do anything right.

As if reading her thoughts, the Queen laughed, “You can’t be a friend, and you’re a terrible daughter.  You don’t do anything but hurt people.  You’re selfish, and worthless.  Moving 2,000 miles away for your own selfish gain, leaving your parents miserable.  What kind of daughter are you?”

She missed her parents.  Guilt from being so far from them had taken over her heart.  What the Queen said stung her deeply.  And she was right.  Selfish.  She was a selfish, little girl.  She knew they missed her, and she missed them, but it was not enough.  She was too selfish to return to them.

The Queen’s head finally turned toward her, and she shifted so that their eyes met.  Dark emeralds cast an unnerving shadow over her.  They were piercing, examining Mara, and calculating, considering every flaw, every imperfection.  “Tell me,” she hissed, “what’s good about you?”

Mara stuttered.  She wrung her hands, failing miserably trying to look composed.

“Well, I…I’m nice?”

“Nice?” she mocked her.  “What does that mean?  Child, you are lost.  You are a mess.  You’re unattractive, clumsy, dismally unintelligent, self-centered, and self-righteous.”  She paused, casting a debilitating glare towards the frail creature.  “No one could ever love you.”

With every word, Mara’s spirit sunk lower.  She’s right, I’m worthless.  Mara wilted on the marble floor, unable to keep from crying.

“I know the desires of your heart,” the Queen cooed.  “To be loved.  You want friends, a family, a husband, an eternal love…but what makes you think you deserve any of it?  Pure?  Never.  You’ve stained yourself.  Given yourself to a million.  They’ve walked over you your entire life.  And what’s worse, you don’t even have a high paying career to make up for what you lack.  Who would put up with you?  Who could want you?  Who could ever love you?  You have nothing and you are nothing.  Poor, hideous creature.  But you did do this to yourself…”  Her voice was like patronizing silk.

The Queen arose from her mantel, stepping gracefully down upon the girl.  She bent, kneeling so as to be face to face.  One of her hands cupped Mara’s face while the other’s fingers traced along her chin.  Mara was terrified.

“You’re not much to look at either,” he eyes intently examining Mara’s face.  A doctor giving a diagnosis.  Incurable.  Unfixable.  Unhealable.  “Your skin is terrible, your teeth are crooked, you’re obscenely overweight.  Really, who would want you as their wife?”

Mara pulled her face from the Queen’s hands.

“Don’t you pull away!  Look at me,” she seethed.  “You truly are worthless in every, single way.”

Mara was curled up, trying to block out the reality of everything she wasn’t.  But she knew it was true.  It was all true.  She wasn’t smart.  She wasn’t beautiful.  She wasn’t even loving.  She had hurt her friends and family in her selfishness.  What she thought was an act of protection, shielding them from her terrible life, was only disguised self-centeredness.  She was desperate, lowly, ugly, and completely worthless.  The Queen was right in every way.  She always was.

Mara began to weep.  I’m worthless.  The room felt deathly cold, and the darkness seeped in through her pores.

The Queen hovered, circling like a triumphant predator.  Her angry whispers filled the heavy air.

Ugly.

Stupid.

Incapable.

Worthless.

Unlovable.

Ugly.

Ugly.

Mara, you’re ugly.

You’ll never be anything to anyone.

After the last piercing blow, the Queen quieted and Mara sobbed.  Her body wracked with seizures.  The pain was all too great.  The limbo of darkness had pulled her into an inescapable realm of hurt.  Time escaped her as her tears continued to fall.  And soon, Mara couldn’t tell if minutes or hours had passed when she realized the Queen had not said a thing in a long while.  But she refused to open her eyes.

Why wasn’t she saying anything?  As the seconds, as the hours, or days ticked away, Mara waited, prepared for another swarming of vicious truths.  It was an awkward dualism.  Even though she wanted the pain to end, she wished the Queen would keep talking, just to know she wasn’t alone.

It was then she heard her.  Not her voice, but her footsteps.  One step turned into two, and so on, and eventually they grew lighter and lighter until they were gone.  Why had she left?  Don’t leave me, you’re all I have, Mara thought.  I can handle being worthless, but not alone.

After an eternity, she opened her swollen eyes.  Her vision fell upon the throne.  What had once been a majestic pillar of dark worship, its gold had aged indelibly.  The velvet was worn and ripped.  The entire atmosphere of the room had shifted.

It was then that Mara felt a hand on her shoulder.  Body weak and soul weaker, she trembled.  A man helped her to her feet.  A sturdy arm wrapped around her, a hand placed heavily on her heart.

No words were spoken, but she saw light.  She felt warmth.  And she felt love.

His face was indistinguishable, blurred by the glare of sun.  But where had the sun come from?

“Lies,” he whispered gently.  “All lies.”

They limped toward the palace doors.  A shamble compared to what they once were, now rusted and eaten away.

“I will tell you who you are.”

His chin pressed against her head in love, and they walked together.  He was strong, but tender.  The mix soothed her and offered a feeling of safety she had never before experienced.

Wherever they were headed, it was going to be a long, arduous road.  But she knew the further they walked, the more then Queen’s hold would weaken.  As long as He was with her, redemption lay in sight, and the palace and the condemnation it held would eventually crumble altogether.

Day 144

I am striving for a year of singleness.

And with more and more people getting into relationships, the more discouraged I feel.

I’m in this for another 222 days.  I have to be.  I feel it.

But it’s still difficult.

It hurts to watch people double-up, form bonds and relationships with others.  I feel like a shoe without a match.

And I hate it.  I hate that I’m looking at what I don’t have.  I wish it didn’t play so much on my mind.  I’m not unhappy for people who are dating. I’m not.  I want people to be happy, to find their “one,” to experience love.  I want that for everyone.  (And I really hope my friends know that and can see past what I'm going through and into my heart for them.)

But there remains a deep, gnawing realization that my goal right now is significantly different than 99.9% of the population.  (Shout out to that .01%!)

To be alone.

And I’m having to wrestle with this challenge and what it means for my life.  It’s easy to do something when you’re in a group of people doing the same thing.  Like AA, or a running groups, or a Bible Study, or anything!  It’s always reassuring to know that others are going through what you’re going through.  But when you have maybe one person?  No person?  And you’re struggling with an addiction you’ve had your entire life?  Then what?  It is so hard to navigate that.  And that’s what this is for me.  An addiction.  I’ve been in relationships non-stop for 12 years, heavily relying on a man for everything.

And just like crack, coke, heroine, weed, alcohol, addictions are hard to break.  And when you’re trying to break something, it is very hard to be around others who have it.  Because you focus on it.  It gnaws on you.

And I think to myself, Nobody else is having to hold themselves back from dating.  They can do whatever they want, with whoever they want, whenever they want—free!  They’re free to make those choices and I am not.  They have what I want…what I need.  What I’m desperate for.

And I sit back with a heart that is desperate—achingly desperate—to not feel these things.

God, wanting to take away my options, has, for the last four months, removed any guy anywhere posing a threat.  He has closed doors, windows—even puttied up holes in which they could sneak through like mice.  And I should be thankful.  I should be thanking Him!  But my selfish heart instead cries, “God, why am I single?  Why am I alone?  Why does everyone else get what they want?”

Cry, cry, cry.  Waah, waah, waah.  I feel like a child.

I know this is all a part of a process—an ugly process.

I can look through old albums and point out every relationships I shouldn't have been in.  ALL OF THEM.  Because I was so desperate that I either hurt them or let them hurt me.  I'm not saying if I could go back and do it any differently, I would, because I wouldn't.  I've learned a lot.  But there is a lot that I can do differently in the future if I heal.

I need to heal.  I need to work on things before I can give myself to anyone else.  I need to grow.  I need to learn.  There are plenty of things I need to learn.

It’s just a lonely path.

But, hey, that’s what God does.  He hedges up our way.  Why?  Because sometimes that's the only way we pay attention to Him.  Sometimes the only time we rely on Him is when He's the only thing we have.  Humans are fallable, all our paths are different.  No two are the same.  No support group?  Okay, God.  That's fine.  But You got me?  'Cause I need You...I need something to pull me through.  And I'm relying and trusting in You.

God, help me deal with this.  Break this in me.  If being alone for the next 10  months is going to break me of this habit, then break it.  Get me through this.  Change my heart.  Let me get to that point where I don’t want it out of desperation.  Let me get to that point where I’m strong enough not to let that be the focus in my life, in my friendships.  Let me rely on You for this strength, and not myself, because I can't do it.  Help me be less selfish, angry, upset, stubborn—anything that negatively affects my friendships with others, kill it.  Kill these feelings inside me so that I’m not who I was.  I see changes in myself now that are encouraging, just please keep encouraging me, because I feel so alone.  I feel so ugly.  I feel ugly that I feel the way I feel.  Please change my heart.  Please change it.  Please change it.  I just ask for grace and understanding while I fight through this.

Day 54

Closed doors, unsent text messages, and unanswered phone calls.

When life gets overwhelming, I recoil into a ball of stress, my bedroom becoming my best friend.  I don’t want to talk to anyone, and so I very successfully don’t talk to anyone.  My poor roommate.  I must seem like a ghost to her.  Our living space is small and yet I find a way to hideaway.  Sorry, Lindsay.

With all the strife of life, it’s much easier to play groundhog.  Now you see me, now you don’t, until the shadow in my heart withdraws.

I’m scared.

My heart, felted with fear, abandonment, and hurt, is what pushing me to hide.  It's what has always pushed me to hide.

Robert Frost wrote A Drumlin Woodchuck, from the perspective of a groundhog who relates:

If I can with confidence say

That still for another day,

Or even another year,

I will be there for you, my dear,^^

It will be because, though small

As measured against the All,

I have been so instinctively thorough

About my crevice and burrow.

Mr. Frost would have done well to add this to the poem of my life:

Recoiled in her burrow, though overly thorough in guarding herself like an art,

a woodchuck who craves solitary days will never escape the lone maze of her heart.

A closed heart may receive nothing—no pain, no hurt, no disappointment.  But it definitely receives no companionship, no kindness...and no love.

Which way of life would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck?

I think I know.  And I can chuck.   And I want to come out of this funk!

Measured against the All in our lives is Our Rock.  And though we are small against the all, He is not.  And I can with confidence say that, still for another day, He will be here for us—in Him I need to trust.

Day 46

I clutched the key in my hand, like doing so would somehow bring him back.

And I cried.  For what seemed like hours, curled up in the fetal position on my bed, I cried.  The tears burned down my cheeks and I could hear the angry beating of my pulse through my temples.

What should have happened two months ago happened tonight.  And all too late I realized avoiding it only made this inevitable pain worse.

I looked into his light brown eyes tonight, and, for a second, he cradled me.  My head met that warm space in his chest.  So familiar, and yet so unforgiving.

To love someone so much, to not have it be right…hurts.

It hurts.  Present tense.  Where I thought I was doing okay and had moved on, really I just hadn’t allowed myself to feel the pain.  This searing, almost electrical pain.

I miss him.  I miss all we were and all that was…even though I know what he said is true.  It wasn’t right.

As he handed me my key, I felt my heart completely surrender to the pain.  I held the small piece of metal delicately then, as if it were instead made of glass.  As if breaking it would reflect the last piece of my already broken heart.

My tears continued to fall after his departure, my thoughts swirling.  And I cried even harder, realizing what it was to have loved someone who loved me.  My pain didn’t come from him betraying me or hurting me like other breakups.  It simply came from having to accept the truth.  Two good people with two good hearts who weren’t meant to be.

And so, I’ll remember when we were meant to be, if only for a season—when God brought us together.  I’ll remember loving him, and what it felt like to have his love.  The summer nights where his lips met mine, the slow dances in his arms, conversations about life on the small balcony of my apartment, the warm night together in the starlit ocean, and standing in the rain, letting it soak us and feeling more joy—more freedom—in that one singular moment than I had ever felt.

I thank God for letting me experience that love and for the respect he showed me tonight.  I pray that God pulls me through this pain.  I pray that He changes my heart.  I pray selfishly that this pain won’t last longer than it needs to.  I pray for both of us that God may make us both stronger and bring us closer to Him in ways we never expected from the ending of this chapter.  I pray for him to keep growing, and to one day find love with someone who brings out the best in him, who can push him towards Christ, and who loves him so deeply.  I pray that the issues that tore us apart will not be forgotten, so we may grow from them, and that the good parts—the parts worth remembering—are used to push us to fight for love in our future romances.  A part of my heart will always belong to him.

Day 44

It was snowing.

I was dressed in my heavy black overcoat.  Such a contrast against the bleached background.  Dan walked beside me, his face straight-laced, as we made our way through the winter flakes.

After a year apart, we had decided to try again.  As he crunched the snow beneath him, it occurred to me I had no idea why we had agreed to this.  I watched him as I would a stranger.  Neither love nor hate filled my spirit.

As we somberly climbed the stairs to the house in front of us I realized we were visiting Evan.  Dan and Evan were friends.  I had dated them both.  Dan first, and Evan more recently, him being the one I had loved more deeply.  When we walked into his living room, Evan’s back was turned toward me.

He was skyping with his coworkers who were on a ski trip out of town.  They started guffawing when they saw me, as if there was a joke I had missed.  Evan’s eyes met mine, and his disdain was immediately evident.  His face took on lines of anger as he turned away from me.  He continued to laugh with his buddies, and even welcomed Dan with a warm hug.

But to me, the girl he had loved, his eyes remained bitter.

As I waited for Dan to finish whatever he had come here to finish, Evan approached me from behind.  I turned around and, for the first time in many months, stood face to face with him.

The face I had once loved was gone.  This one was raw and tormented, lips turned down in a snarl.  A stranger stood before me. 

“Get out of my house.”

“What?” I asked, hoping I had misheard.

Ugliness covered his face and hate radiated in his voice.

“Get.  Out.  Of.  My.  House.”

I looked for Dan.  He didn’t stand up or even acknowledge what was being said.  He continued to zone in on the 60 inch TV where Evan’s friends paused to listen.

It hurt to look into Evan’s eyes—strange eyes that held no familiarity.  Dan’s reaction I expected.  He had never stood up for me the first time we dated.  But Evan—Evan I had loved with all my heart, and he had always treated me with respect, so his sudden disrespect was a shock.  I was in disbelief that he could be so cruel.

And so I left.  I walked away, letting the door slam behind me.

Disgust filled my heart.  It was so strong that by my tenth step, I turned around.  I marched up the porch, gracefully walking back into his house.  Evan sat on his lounge, laughing.  When my eyes pierced his, he became silent.  And suddenly, he looked different.  He was still internally Evan, but he outwardly looked like my best guy friend Jackson, the friend who has always shown me respect.

I made sure he was looking directly into my eyes as I spoke my next words.

“You don’t get to treat me like this ever again.  One day you’ll understand.”

The house was silent.  There was no more laughter.  He said nothing, and I took one last look at him before I walked back out into the white afternoon.  As tears fell down my cheeks, I left that house and everyone in it behind.

Yesterday marked my seventh week of not taking communion with the church.

·   I saw a picture of Dan a few days ago.  I looked at his face, recognizing the flaws I saw as his girlfriend, as someone who really knew him.  And instead of just pain, I think that was the first day I really felt…sad.  Not in a callous you-haven’t-changed-way, but sad like I suddenly, truly wanted more for him.  It was a weird experience, and I think my dream related it well.

·   Apparently I’m more hurt by Evan than my consciousness let me realize.  Because of the way it ended—or didn’t end—the time we spent together feels void.  Where is my goodbye?

·   Evan and I were friends for a long time before we started dating.  I trusted him.  Just like I trust Jackson.  There is a part of me that doesn’t trust men—father, friend or otherwise—and it’s almost like I’m already prepared to be hurt.  Like it’s a matter of time before a guy friend hurts me.

God, I praise you for helping me sort through my feelings with Dan, and letting me get to this point.  I pray that you continue to work on my heart with Evan, and let me forgive him and myself for everything that happened.  And with the men in my life, please continue to grow my heart for them and to build up trust in them.  And lastly, please continue to protect me from men who aren’t of You, who don’t love You, and therefore cannot love me.  You’ve been faithful so far, and I believe it’s only up for here on out.

Day 19

“Mom, can we please sit at the table?”

All I wanted was a family dinner, but the dining room table in our house was not used to dine.  Instead it was a filing system, old mail and magazines layered corner to corner.

“Please, I just want to sit and eat...like a real family.”

“Jamie, wouldn’t you rather watch TV while you eat?”

This was always the response I received from my parents.

I so desperately wanted to feel like a family.  My school life was terribly lonely, and at home my parents were too busy fighting their own battles to spend time with me and my brother.  If we can just sit together, maybe it could all change, I used to think.

It never changed.  Despite my attempts, we only sat at that table once a year.  At Thanksgiving.  For twenty minutes.  And then we would retire to our separate rooms. 

Eventually I gave up trying to be a family.

This sense of unbelonging created a desperate need to find love.  And so I buried myself in relationship after relationship.  This is the one, I would fool myself.  He can be the family I never had.

Always a false fit though, it wreaked havoc on my sense of worth.  Needless to say, my heart was left aching, and that family I wanted never came.

Until this year.

It has taken me a long time to realize that family doesn’t limit itself to biology—or to a husband.  After years of being alone and seeking fulfillment, God has placed in my life people who fill that void.

It was this summer while my best friend was planning her wedding, she told me her first dance with her new husband would be to Chantal Kreviazuk’s Feels Like Home.  She said they chose this song, because, until they found each other, they suffered from a feeling of homesickness.

Homesick—that’s exactly what I felt.  And for the first time in my life, my heart feels like it's home.  It feels full.  And God has blessed me with a family.  It is new and I know things are still changing, but there is nothing that can erase my thankfulness for the here and now.  Because I have been waiting all my life to feel loved and understood.

I compare myself to Alan.  Yes, from the Hangover.

You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner.  I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack.  But when my sister brought Doug home, I knew he was one of my own.  And my wolf pack, it grew by one.  So were there two of...so there were two of us in the wolf pack.  I was alone first in the pack, and then Doug joined in later.  And six months ago...when Doug introduced me to you guys, I thought, "Wait a second. Could it be?"  And now, I know for sure.  I just added two more guys to my wolf pack.

Let me say, in no way am I ungrateful to my parents—because it is God’s path that I have traveled my entire life, so His plans include them.  But I am so thankful for this gift He has given me.  And to my friends who are reading this, I have been waiting for you all my life.  Through aimless days and lonely nights, nights of sorrow and moments of weakness, times of frustration, and years of utter loneliness—I have been praying for you.

As this boyfriendless-and-biological-famililessness-Thanksgiving comes to a close, I am so thankful for the people with whom I shared my day.  And not just in person, but through text and over the phone—you mean so much to me.  And I love you.

“The most basic of all human needs is the need to understand and be understood.” Ralph Nichols

I am thankful for Lauren, Lindsay, Tony, Charles, Jamon, Jason, Katie, Taylor, Neal, Emily, Nick, Leonard, Jon, Tabria Savannah, Christine, Sara, Jillian, Danielle, Egypt, Tracy, Paige, Roz, Lacey, Faith, Lizzie, Callyan, Mimi, Andrea, Justin, Micaela, Tabitha, Nicole, Tango, Megan, Chad, Deborah, Rachel, Meredith, Bekah, Mario, Ashley, Adam, Temeco, Gwen, Samontra, Tameka, Rita, Moncena, Fred, Allie, Kelly, Kalesha, Brandon, Candace, Lauren, Cindy, Maunish, Meredith, Mike, Shawday, Blair, Aidan, Mom, Dad, and Steven.

Day 16

I’m sitting here crying, because I saw your picture.

I’m sitting here crying, because I think of things you said.

I’m sitting here crying, because you moved on like I meant nothing.

I’m sitting here crying, because I can’t forgive.

God, I so desperately want to forgive.  Take these hurts from me.  Take this pain from my heart.  I’m tired of crying over all this hurt.  All these years of pain—take this cup from me!

Please help me heal, because I don’t want this pain to destroy me.

__________________________________________________________________________

One

I want to forgive you because...like me, you had been picked on all your life.  Like me, you were hurt.  Your height, the shape of your head, you were just as much of an outcast as I was.  And so were your friends.  You were never cool.  Neither were they.  And as juniors, y'all had to stoop as low as belittling freshman girls to boost your ego.  I knew about your lives and looking back I see how empty they were.  We were young, had no idea what we were doing, and fought for survival.  I want to forgive you because you're not what love is for me anymore.  I will never go through what I went through while I was with you with anyone else.  I have grown from that experience.  I honestly hope you have, too.  I want to forgive you because it's been 10 years of un-reconciled pain and it's time to let go.  Now that I have God in my life and know what love is, I know you're not it, you were never it, and you're just an illusion in the desert that served to parch and teach me.  You are not what God intended for me for my forever.

Two

I want to forgive you because...you were as confused and as lonely as I was.  You knew something was wrong, and while there was a piece of you that wanted just to shut up and date me, you couldn't.  You just couldn't find an easy way to get out of it.  I forgive you, because I know what fear feels like.  I know what it's like to be trapped.  You did the best you could, and you did what was right for you, which inevitably was what was right for me.  You weren't on track with God then, and it is my deepest prayer that you are at a church with a community with whom you can fellowship.  I hope you haven't lost your fire.  I want to forgive you, because we were both lost.  You are not what God intended for me for my forever.

Three

I want to forgive you because...you are just as screwed up as me when it comes to sex.  We both sought validation and instant gratification from our interaction.  Really, I'm mad at myself for letting you treat me that way.  I can't forgive you, because I couldn't forgive myself.  I want to forgive you, because I knew better.  I could've stopped.  It all could've been avoided.  I want to forgive you because you know what it is to hurt like me.  You know what it's like to hide out of fear of people knowing who you are.  I want to forgive you, because we all make mistakes—terrible ones—even when our mind strongly tells us differently, our flesh is too powerful.  I want to forgive you, because I want to be able to pray for your marriage to be a happy, healthy one where the love of God thrives.  Mostly, I want to apologize, and I want to forgive you because you are not what God intended for me for my forever, and I should've never expected you to fill that space.

Four

I want to forgive you because...I know your heart.  I know there is a terrible hurt somewhere inside of you that is driving you to overcompensate.  Instead of relying on the love of Christ to save you, you are trying to redeem yourself.  I want to forgive you, because I know that pain.  I know the pain of trying to take control of everything in order to fix my life.  I want to be able to pray for you, for your wellness, for your walk.  I want to be able to forgive you, because I know your actions are out of hurt and self-preservation.  God never intended you to be my forever and I need to let you go, because everything you did to me was out of a hurt in your heart that had nothing to do with me or who I was.

Five

I want to forgive you because...I thank God for you.  For it is because of you that I know true love exists.  You showed me I could love again and be better and love better.  You showed me what having a best friend meant.  You showed me what happiness could feel like.  I thank God for the time we had together, both good and bad.  And as scared as you are, I'm scared, too.  You are not who God intended for me for my forever.  I want to pray for your happiness and salvation and growth.  I want to pray for your future wife, that you'll love, protect, honor, and serve her.  I want to forgive you, because I love you.

Six

I want to forgive you because...my worth is in God.  I sought out in you what I should be seeking in God.  And it was not your responsibility to provide that.  I want to forgive you, because I know our flesh is weak.  I know what it's like to be lonely.  I want to forgive you, because I love you as a brother.  As a child of God.  I do not want to label you as anything other than a child of God.  You are not what God intended for my forever, and I pray for both of us, that our walks will reflect purity and steadfast love.

Day 9

I’ll be honest.  I really don’t want to write tonight.  I would rather be in bed, under millions of blankets, hiding from the world.  But I’m not.  I can’t, I can't do that anymore.  And so here I sit, frustrated, half-thinking, half-staring-blankly at a blank screen, at a loss for words.

Last night was a difficult night, and today was a terrible day.  And I knew I would eventually hit this wall, which is why I made myself promise no matter how terrible things could get, I would write.  For better or worse, here I am.

“Darkness” I would assume is different for different people.  My own personal Hell is a labyrinth of lies telling me I’m alone, unworthy of love, and disgusting.  Satan looked at the playlists today, and decided to put these same thoughts on REPEAT all morning.  Thanks, DJ.  Good lookin’ out.  Jerk.

I sat in my car during my lunch break, praying for relief.  I had a journal in my lap, and sat quietly as if I were waiting for something miraculous to happen.  I watched golden leaves from the surrounding trees float through the sky.  And as silence cradled me, I began to cry.  The turntables spun, and I wrote:

I don’t want to do anything.  I don’t want to talk to anyone.  I want to slink away and hide.

This morning I barely had the strength to get out of bed.

The six-o-clock-in-the-morning darkness held me.

I couldn’t feel the truth in His love, but I heard the fears of my soul.

I may never be loved.  I may never be married.  I may never have children.  Who would want a whore?  Who could love me?  I am filthy and stained, undeserving of love.

I want to curl up, and un-exist.  I want to give up.  I don’t want to fight it anymore.

Tell me I’m not defined by this.  Tell me I’m Yours.  Tell me I’m safe in Your hands.  Tell me…I’m loved.  I’m special.  I’m worthwhile because I’m Your daughter.  Tell me it’s okay.

I paused.  My head slumped on the steering wheel.  I prayed none of my coworkers were watching the sad lump in the red Pontiac.  I tried to compose myself, and after a moment, I sat up, gathering my notebook.  Through tears, this is what was written next:

I redeemed you.  I died for you.  I knew what was to come in your life, and I died for it.  I redeemed every sin you could ever commit because I love you.  I love you.  You are so precious.  Remember the first verse Tabitha gave you, Isaiah 43:4.  You are mine.  If I didn’t love you I would’ve let you remain in filth.  But you are dressed in robes…clean, white, pure robes, because you are cleansed by my blood.  I died to save you.  I died to keep you.  I died so that you may live.  You are my precious child.  How could I let anything harm you?  Why would I let anything pass through my fingers that would hurt you?  I saved you.  You do not live in darkness anymore.  You are light.  Don’t listen to him.  Just as I know you, he knows you.  Just as I know your pain, he does, too.  He will stop at nothing to keep you from Me.  And I will stop at nothing to keep you.  And keep you I will.  I know your sorrow.  I also know your will.  You may or may not have a husband, I can’t tell you now.  But stop searching.  I stopped you.  I hurt you to prevent a greater eternal hurt.  Love Me now as a husband, for whether you have an earthly husband or not, you are My bride, my beautiful, redeemed love.  Cast your fears upon me.  How can I not protect you?  Have I not taken you over mountains and through valleys?  I am yours, you are Mine, and that is enough…forgive yourself…for I forgave you long before I made you, and I made you knowing you would fall.  All that you could ever want is yours—heart of mother though childless, beautiful though stained, and you are a wife already.  Come to Me, and rest.  Don’t run.  Fight for Me as I died for you.  I am love, and you are Mine.  Do I not cause the wind to blow and the leaves to change?  And just so, do you not think this is just a season of yours?  Though fall and winter come, there is a spring and a summer love.  If the trees gave up every winter, what would become of it?  Weather the winter, for I am with you.

Loving God isn’t easy.  But I tell you this as your loving sister, if it were easy, it would be worthless.

Day 8

I have no idea where the tears came from.

Wait, yes, I do.

They came from these layered personal tragedies, lost hope suffocating my courage, vicious lies from Satan.  Emptiness grew these tears, and Despair pushed them out from the very depths of my heart.  All I remember is emotionally collapsing in the cove, memories of this last year flashing through my mind like snapshots from a horror film.

They held me as I cried.  They were the only thing holding me up.

What an odd feeling for a soul to crumble, but rejoice at the same time.

I wept for the girl I was.  For her pain.  For everything she went through.  For all that she endured, both before coming Christ, and especially after.

I sobbed.  And I celebrated.  I rejoiced in having a faithful God.  A God who provides in His timing, in His way.

They held me up.

They held me.

I consider everything I’ve lost the greatest gift God could’ve ever given me.

A way to stop my deepest sin.  A sorrow to end my desire.  The absence of friends to appreciate His eventual gift.  Failed relationships to hinder my dependence.  Friendships to grow me, to guide me, to remind me of His love—His sweet, sweet love.

I am loved.  And He loves me.

And I am His, and He is mine.

I am emotionally exhausted.   But I'm under His light.

And so begins Week 2.

Day 4

Goodbye to you.

Goodbye to everything I thought I knew.

Within the last three weeks I've said goodbye to people in my life that were pretty significant.  Somehow, I couldn't grow with them, and the day came to go our separate ways.

I still miss him.  I wonder if he knows.  We never had a formal goodbye.  But maybe it's better that way.

I find myself wanting to call him, but I know it wouldn't do either of us any good.  It's best for us to be separated.  If walking away from somebody is the best way you can love them, then you do it.  We hurt each other so much.  I hope he knows I love him, and want him to be closer to God.  I didn't bring him closer to Him, so, if I love him, and I do, I do what's right for him.  I need to honor and respect him as my brother in Christ.  Maybe another day, maybe another day we can be...but maybe not.  I do miss his friendship terribly.

Along with him, many friendships have ended.  The season has passed and it feels right.  I'm not clinging to sorta-kindas anymore.  I can't cling.  I finally feel like there are people in my life who want to grow.  I pray for my old friends.  I pray that maybe we'll meet again.  And I can be better.  I can be better for us all.