real

I want to be profound. To write about things that make people sit back and ponder how someone could have strung those words together into "that" thought. But the bottom line is, I'm not feeling profound. In fact, I'm not really feeling anything at all.

Things have been eerily silent in my world for almost a week now. At first I wasn't bothered, as I figured it would end eventually. And then I was really saddened by the silence. I was angry. And now, I'm nothing. Guess I've been working through the stages of grief, and I'm not even sure (1) what I'm grieving about and (2) if there's really anything to grieve at all.

Now, in the aftermath, as the emotions have worn down and the ashes are cold, I have this nagging fear. What if in dealing with this "death" as it were I lost the strength to dream again? Will I ever be able to have that kind of dream? And what did all of this mean? I know it wasn't for nothing, and that nothing is lost, but I'm feeling a bit lost myself, wondering when the lesson will show its face and I'll be able to see what this has all been about. Because right now it just feels like an excruciatingly long lesson in being abandoned. And I thought I'd already learned that one.

crossroads

Finally, after weeks and months of questioning myself and worrying about what I should do, if I was making the right decision, etc., I have finally reached a crossroads. You know, one of those places where you have to make a decision, not only in order to move forward, but also to stay alive.

For the past several months I have sat on my hands and stapled my lips shut, always in hopes that things would resolve themselves and relationships would progress. But that just hasn't happened, and it isn't likely to. Yesterday I learned volumes about one of the people in my circle. I learned that there's no reason to keep watching and waiting. Things aren't going to change, unless I change them. And when they do change, it's not going to be the progress I was hoping for. Instead, it will be a release, letting go of a dream that is long-since dead.

Am I okay with this? Obviously I would love for the outcome to be positive, that the relationship would be where it should be. But I am ready to face the reality that it's time to call the time of death on things. I know there will be lots of pieces of me and my heart that are left over, but God can deal with those. For now, I need to take action.

Wish me luck.

perspective

I've been spending the past couple of days with my family. We, like pretty much every family I know, have our quirks. Every visit usually consists of the same handful of events and conversations. I know I will eat too much - partially because of some mad cooking and baking skills I'm in the vacinity of and partially because it helps me to diffuse the stress a bit. And then in a few days I'll go home and everything will be back to normal.

But I was realizing last night that for all the anxiety and stress and sheer frustration of it all, being away from home is so good for me. I'm separated from my normal routine by hundreds of miles.

It almost feels like I'm in a plane that's just taken off. And for those first several minutes, as the plane climbs into the air, I can see the roads for the tiny grids that they are. Hundreds of acres of land are little checker block-sized squares.

And from this distance the grid of this word and that word, this action and that action, takes its place in the grand scheme of things. I find the stuff that worries me is not the end of the world, by any stretch of the imagination, even if it seemed like the biggest deal just a couple days ago. It's part of the road I'm on. And I can accept that, because I know that (1) I can't do anything to take back what I did or said and (2) it's all going to work out in the end. It may hurt or be hard on the way there, but it will end.

I just hope I can keep this outrageously healthy attitude when I get home.

direction

I am lost. I'm not afraid to ask for directions, I just don't know where I'm going or what I'm going to do when I get there.

Why does it seem like my prayers are falling on deaf ears? And why can't I just rest in the knowledge that it's all going to work out in the end?

I just can't see past all these darn trees to the edge of the forest.

trust

It's been a while since I've written. Not that I haven't had anything to say, I just haven't had the time to type it out. I'm going through another one of those times when I'm overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions, and most of them aren't the greatest.

Fear. Anxiety. Doubt. Frustration. And somewhere in there, between the tiny cracks that knit all these feelings together, is a glimmer of hope. It's not a spark, so I'm not sure if it'll catch or not, but it's there, wishing for the air it needs to grow into a flicker and maybe even a flame.

It centers on trust. I was talking about life and things with my friend Amy yesterday and she reminded me that we cannot place our trust in people. I'm not talking about that I-hope-you-remember-to-do-what-you-said-you'd-do trust. I'm talking about the abiding you'll-never-let-me-down kind. Which can't come from a human. Because we all fail. I fail. You fail. Even the most successful people fail sometimes.

This is hard for me to accept. I want to trust the people in my life, especially those closest to me, but they are always letting me down in some way, shape, or form. So how can I learn to place that trust in God, and still love the people whose trust I was counting on?

I need to learn to let go of control. To test (or train) myself to relax, to rest in the arms of the One who I can always trust to do what He says. This is even harder than accepting the trust thing.

Guess I need to keep praying for the strength to do this. Before I do something I'll regret.

vacant

I'm in a weird place. I usually am really excited because there's something on the horizon, or I'm really sad because I've been disappointed by myself or someone else. But today, I just don't feel anything. I'm not happy. I'm not sad. I just am. I am looking 30 square in the eye and while I'm not excited about it, what can I really do? The day is going to come whether I want it to or not, so I can either wallow and whine and complain, or I can accept it, treat it like any other day of the week, and let it go.

I guess part of me wants that day to matter to someone. Maybe part of me just wants to matter to someone.

see-through

I just did something they tell writers NEVER to do. I deleted something I wrote completely. Not because I wasn't feeling what I felt when I wrote those words, but just because feelings like I'm having right this minute need not to be strained through the spaces of old letters and words but to be given the freedom to flow as needed. Thus, the mass delete.

My birthday is in exactly 8 days. I will turn 30, and I have never not wanted to celebrate a birthday as much as I don't want to celebrate this one. And it's not so much that I want the day to come and go without decorum, as I want the day not to come at all. Last night getting ready for bed this realization washed over me with such force that I found myself in tears. Not the silent tears that stream in slow motion down your face, but the sorrowful mass of salty drops that surround a heart that is truly in pain.

I met my friend Meg for coffee last night and she noticed that my eyes looked sad. There is nothing more disturbing than to be told that you look sad in a part of you that you can't control. The haunt of loneliness or grief or whatever can only be hidden to certain point. And I guess mine boiled over.

I'm hanging on for dear life here. I am dangerously close to the edge of a cliff of sorrow that I can't get back on top of. I want to hang on, and the rawness of my fingertips confirms that fact. But I'm afraid that if things continue like this for too much longer, I'm just going to let go. Don't let me.

groundhog day

Don't be disappointed. This post isn't about February 2nd, or the Bill Murray movie.

Today is Friday. And like almost every Friday for the past several months, I have NO CLUE what most of my plans are for the weekend. Granted, this weekend is different than most because I do have some stuff to do tomorrow and Sunday. But I'm out here hanging, because a friend of mine wants to get together at some point this weekend to hang out, but I have yet to find out when yet. And it's after 3pm. My weekend officially starts in less than 2 hours.

Now I know that I can be type A when it comes to having plans together, but really. Is it asking too much to have more than 5 minutes notice on plans for the evening? I guess it's my own fault for feeling the need to have plans. But when someone says they want to get together, shouldn't you assume that that's what they mean and that they'll respect your time enough to set up plans?

Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. One thing's for sure. I'm definitely frustrated.