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?
