My Hunger

I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. All the time. There is this hunger that gnaws at me...deep inside me. I am not talking about this metaphorical hunger or a poetic description of some vague feeling that has to do with missing a stoic lover. This hunger is literal. A couple of times I would even think "Why am I hungry like this? I just ate. How come I never get full anymore?". The thought would enter my mind that maybe I was hungry for the romance I used to share with Christ. Maybe I was thirsty for the way I used to feel when God would speak to me. He hasn't been speaking to me lately. So, of course I take the human approach and say "Fine. If you're gonna be like that...I'll be over here doing ---*insert your own personal sinful treat here*--- until You come around, God." And if you are thinking "Well I can't really relate to what she just said, I don't really do that", then your personal sinful treat is probably lying :). When in reality, as I mentioned before in my blog, He did not distance Himself from me, I fell back and pushed myself away from Him. In the meanwhile I fed myself with everything I could find to fill the hunger inside me. When one thing wouldn't fill me, I would try something else. I would fill my stomach with almond m&ms or my lungs with smoke. And I would always fill full for a second. But then I would hate myself knowing what I really should be filling it with. So here is how God has been speaking to me;

Apparently I have developed this keen ability to become numb to pain inside of me. I imagine it developed over time and it is a habit that comes from running from God all the time. I have never experienced Love like the Love He gives me. So when I am running from it...how could I NOT feel pain? Anyways... the past couple of weeks I have been struggling with a decent sized lump of pain in my stomach, and it has been swallowing up these temporary escapes I use and leaving me hungry. A couple of days ago I looked in the mirror and realized that I have aged so much in the past couple of weeks. My blue-grey eyes weighed heavily on the grey side. My skin was lifeless. Not only was that brightness gone, but there seemed to be shadows cast on my face from a source I could not see. The lines on my face that linger from smiling and laughing had been ironed back into my skin by the constant starvation inside me. I realized this even more when I was standing in chapel, and my friend Candy and I were observing the different hair styles in front of us...and she pointed at this girl with cute curly long hair. I studied her profile. The skin on her face seemed so flawless as if life had not taken a cent of a toll on her. Everything on her was in it's right place. I have never felt that way. Each strand of her hair curled perfectly into a calculated pony tail. But her skin was almost translucent. I thought to myself "she probably has never weathered a storm in her life". But then some voice told me "Or she has, and she weathered it with grace and did not feed her life the junk that you have." Either way I realized I felt like old; like my skin was rough and my smile jaded. Later on that day I was sitting on my couch and I was about to look for something to do. And the thought ACTUALLY crossed my mind: "Maybe I should go pray some, I haven't talked to God in a while." It didn't feel like myself as much as it felt like God was asking "Come spend time with me!". I surprised myself by LITERALLY shaking the thought off and telling myself that journaling would prove to be more affective. I felt God's heart break inside that starving lump in my stomach. Days went on and I dealt with a number of things on my own. Carried the weight. As Dr. Laan would say, I walked through the desert with my own strength, avoiding any bit of shade God offered me. So, surprisingly enough I was not scheduled Friday night. Perfect because I have been feeling drawn to attend Celebrate Recovery. So I go. I even attend the dinner to make friends (although no one that Candy I sat with spoke to us...but we still had fun). At one point the guy that was speaking that night used such a trite line I have heard so many times before. He said there had been a God-sized hole in his heart. I mentally scoffed off the thought by thinking "How big would that be? It would be like the size of...well, infinity. And that guy's heart is definitely NOT the size of infinity. Pssssh." (Mature, huh?) During group time, we had to answer a question concerning resentment. A lot of different thoughts came together in my mind and they whispered their secrets at me in unison, as if to bring me to this conclusion. I was holding onto SO much resentment towards my ex-fiance. The first time I had gone to that group was because of the situation my ex-fiance was in. Needless to say after we broke up and I stopped for a second in my life. All the things I had been running from for seven years all settled around me. It was almost the same effect as when the dust and debris settle after a violent twister. I've never actually seen that happen, but I can imagine that the most intense part would be that silence after the storm that allowed people to see the damage this violence had caused. That's how I felt. It all caught up with me. Anyways, I am getting side tracked. In that time I faced many issues and there was no way I could solve all of them. My ex...we'll call him Bob. Bob caused me a lot of heart ache through several actions which I DO NOT hold against him. He was engaged to a crazy person. However, there was a pain in me that resulted from some of choices he made. That pain was very deep inside of me, because it tied to so many other ghosts that I keep caged. So, sitting in group last night I realized I resented Bob very much for this pain I would have to work through. I had been so angry at him and so bitter towards him. These harsh feelings I wished towards Bob kept me from realizing that he is in a very lonely and dark place right now. How could I wish ill on someone who was already spiraling himself there? And whether or not I feel the same way about Bob as I used to, I love this man. I should have been on my knees for his soul. Not on my tippy toes so I could get a better view of all the sickness I was wishing his way. So that was a very eye opening experience. The night ended and Candy and I left to continue on to this ceremony that consisted of burning things from my past as symbolism that I was moving along from the past. We incorporated wine into this ceremony. The ceremony went well, and I was deeply grateful to share with Candy those moments. I was able to share hurts with her and she was able to just...be there.

However, I woke up today with this feeling...of emptiness. I have felt it before, but never this solid. I knew this hunger would not be filled with a bowl of cereal. I knew I could no longer run from these thoughts. Candy came over for a second, and she must have seen that realization on my face because she asked if I was ok. She had to go to a birthday party so she told me she loved me and left. I sat here for a minute and that "God-sized hole" in my heart started aching. (The God-sized hole makes sense to me now. God means SO much to me that if He is not residing in my heart, my heart might as well have the hole the size of the universe, because that would make it non-existant, and that's how I have felt lately). So I felt that call again, "come talk to me, Dars". I had heard it earlier, but had decided to make coffee instead. This time when I heard it, for a second I thought "I'll finish my coffee first or it'll get cold." But that thought lasted two seconds because the heart ache inside of me was bigger than my need for caffeine. So I went. And I cried. I would like to think I cried in His arms, but I couldn't feel that. I haven't cried in a very long time. My heart has been hard and my spirit has been coldly going through the motions. I went to Him this time. And I am pretty sure He met me there. But I have to learn that God is not my yo-yo, and as much as I hate people rolling me up and down on an emotional string, I can pretty certainly say that it's not God's favorite thing either.

So here I am at this place I have been so many times before. Wanting to put all my faith in Him and walk away from the life I have drawn up for myself...hand over the pencil and let Him take over. I will pray that He will have me as I find my way back to Him. I will ask Him to romance me and show me how He loves me. But even though He has proven Himself to me over and over and over again, I still have this fear...that He won't be there. That this time there really is nothing loveable. That I will not be able to have that glow in my soul when I feel His love. But I am so hungry for His love, and nothing else has satisfied that hunger. So I come back like I have so many times before asking that He can fill this God-sized hole in my heart and fill me up. Because I am hungry...

A Fine Line...

I was recently told by a very... close friend that I needed to develop more of an "Eff You" attitude. As I shared this idea with other friends, I seemed to receive a lot of "agreement smiles". I guess that friend was right. Maybe I care too much. But can a person care too much? I have been involved in all sorts of relationships in my "adulthood" years, and a few of the most significant people in those relationships have sheltered a coping mechanism that involved pushing away the closest people to them and finding a very non abrasive way of hurting them so that they would not get closer. I have two problems with this; 1)It always ends up being abrasive and hurtful. And 2) these were significant people in my life, which means I was that close person they were pushing away. Now, I totally respect that mechanism. Especially after last year when the "so-called reality" of my world fell away from my eyes like poisonous scales, I realized that I had a very hurtful coping mechanism. I also learned that this mechanism was being used to distract my soul from the fact that I was trudging through a very thick case of depression. That's right, I said it...on the World Wide Web. I struggle with depression....

However I cannot reconcile this idea of hurting the people closest to you so that they will leave you. I suppose I did that in my own way. I would get involved people in my life (especially romantically) that were not quite what I was looking for. I would then seek out their potential and challenge it until I wore the person out and they left. And then I would dance in a pity party about how I was "leave-able". Not healthy, I know. It was a very thick layer of icing covering a big fat cake of insecurities that was baked way back in my childhood, and my heart was denying it's existence. I guess the rotting smell caught up with me. Anyways, all ridiculous analogies aside. I realized this about myself, and I realized that I chastized the people closest to me and placed a whole stage in my head that featured those main people acting in scenes that I assumed to be true; which usually included a plot where they did not really care about me and love me the way I loved them, and they were taking while I was just giving and giving and giving. The final scene would usually be some dramatic "meltdown" by yours truly in which I stated that life was not fair because I kept finding people who I loved and did not love me back.

As I realized I did this, I began to let those people into my life and cut them slack for not reaching my expectations, which I should mention were, in fact, UNATTAINABLE. As I released them of this forced role in my narcistic scenarios, I began to realize they did love me. They did care. They did want me around. Because they loved me. Which led me to believe there was something loveable about me (my therapist shot me the "It's about stinkin' time, Darci" look at me when I came to this conclusion). Those people have become my stronghold.

Therefore it is hard for me to understand how some people choose to push the most significant people out of their lives. These past three weeks I have fallen back onto a darker path on my journey and I have found it hard to leave the shadows and catch back up with the "sunny side" of the road. During this time I have felt a lot of my old insecurities creeping up behind me, and those demons whispering lies in my head that make me feel worthless and unloved. Oddly enough I have not put the people around me through a marathon of drama in order to make me feel appreciated. I have just...fallen behind. Sometimes I would feel like they were drifting from me, but somewhere within my logic I would be reminded that it was, in fact, me that was drifting. I also realized that at these times I did not hurt those around me to keep them away. I hurt myself to keep them away. I have entertained all the things that are destructive to my body, heart and soul. I have embraced all the things that create disgust towards myself. I checked off all the things on my "Don't Do This If You Want To Be Healthy" list. So basically, I tear myself down and fall back so that few people will realize it. Except for a few.

So when I am told to have a "Eff You" attitude, I totally agree that I need one for a lot of reasons. I tend to care FAR too much what people think of my actions. I nurse people's weaknesses because I want everyone to feel...loved and uplifted. I find joy in seeing other people find joy. I will hold on in a relationship...until the very end (I have even dabbled in the intense side of "holding on". And not intense like "wow, she is really persistant", but intense like "Why are you standing outside my window in the middle of the night" intense. Just kidding.....but seriously). Even if it means I get dragged through the mud. I just find this strength somewhere in me...and I hold on until either I am asked to let go, or I realize my strength has me running in circles. And while I believe people mean well because we are all just trying to make it through...people I care about tend to mistake my kindness for weakness, because they play off of my devotion of the love I feel for them. I end up wearing myself into an emotional exaustion... Now, there is a very fine like between kindness and weakness for me. And what worries me, is that I think I mistake my weakness for kindness...

Sobering Sunday

It's been a week now. I find myself caught in between all the moments that have shaped where I currently stand, confused and often misguided. Isn't it funny how sometimes when the surrounding noise dies down, we can hear our demons haunting us? Or how a song can just clothesline you off your feet? Or how a smell can send you to a place in your mind you have nestled and protected from any influence that could taint it?

I finished closing up the bar tonight. I turned the TVs off. I switched the lights off. I wiped down the counters and there was some "Red Lobster worthy" slow romantic song about heartbreak playing in the background. The lights were dim and the hum of the coolera had fallen away. I thought about my drive home. I would take in all the events of the evening. Contemplate all the dramatic encounters I had experienced. Soak in all the heartbreak I felt. Inhale the cold air, the smoke, and the smell of loneliness. In that moment I was...consumed...with this feeling of contentment. On a night where I should have panicked, or been upset, maybe even worried - I felt content. I knew that I would make the drive home (which ended up being 30 minutes longer because my precious grandma called) and I would walk into an apartment which I have made my home.

My grandmother, who happens to be one of my soulmates, got me on the phone tonight and went on and on and on about what my mom had told her about me; "She said you are just doing sooo good. She said you are just determined to carry on and to keep plugging forward. She just did not have enough good things to say about you. You were so beautiful and doing so great". Cute, I know. I felt...dirty. I hated to think that I wasn't...doing well. I wasn't determined. I spiraled from the level I was on. She went on to talk about how proud she was of me, and she always knew I was a great person, and when I got all these things sorted out, I was going to just be soo great and God was going to do great things with me. But little did she know...

I had recently revisited a place that once took me in as one of it's own. I have been spending time with my past. The air is a bit heavier now and a little more dense than I remember. The walls are mustier and it smells just as sweet, but with a hint of sour, now. The color of the hue was different, but it was just as dim lit as it always was. I returned. I stepped in slowly and cautiously and stayed close to the door. But before I knew it, I was dining with my favorite agents of escape and dancing with the ghosts in my closet. And at the end of the night I was going home with the tall and handsome figure that seems so comfortable and safe, but just ends up being a different shape of loneliness. I wake up...wondering where I am....and how did I get here? The taste of dissapointment in my mouth and the smell of despair in my hair. The visits have offered the temporary joy they have always provided. I reach the same heights and scream the same laughs. But sadly enough...I returned to this place I once felt at home, and I no longer feel like I belong there. You know that feeling when you go home and your parents have gotten new furniture? Or they have a whole new house all together? Yeah, whether we want it or not....we have this sense of loss. Betrayal. We realize something has been lost that will never be regained. And I no longer felt at home amongst this place I once called home. Which is a feeling I recognized. But maybe I always expected that place to take me back if I needed...but it's no longer a place I can be.

Which leaves me...in between somewhere...once again....