Today I woke up with an ache in my chest. I have been wandering around in a daze for so long that I’m not even sure how to label this feeling: This yearning, hopeful heartache that makes me excited, terrified, sad and angry all at once.
What do I do with it? I write. I bleed the feelings out through ink on paper. I capture and release them, instead of fighting to control them.
I struggle to find the balance between controlling things and just not caring about them. I want all or nothing. Perfection or disaster. I want my life to be the way it “should” be. If it can’t be that way, I just want to buy a bottle of tequila for dinner… I want a man in my bed… I want the power and the pride that comes from eating less and less. I want to throw it all away. I want oblivion.
But as great as it all sounds in the moment, I know how it ends. I’ve stumbled down that path many times. And it always leaves me with is the same dull heartache… with pain… with tears… with longing for more.
And I’m reminded God is the one real source of hope and joy and peace:
I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.
I’m losing my mind
It’s slipping away
like sand through my fingers
It’s floating off
like a balloon torn from my grip
And all I can do is watch, paralyzed
I wish I could wake up from this dream…drink some coffee and sober up from this unrelenting hangover.
I wish I could push the fog away.
I want to understand the words you speak…to follow a conversation…to meaningfully participate.
I want to remember the end of a sentence…the name of a friend…the date of my birth.
I want to get in my car tomorrow morning and drive without forgetting where I’m going…or where I am…or how to get there.
I miss the simplicity and ease of it all. I miss being the smart girl. The good listener. The dependable one.
If I lose my mind, do I lose myself?
– slowly disappearing
The world keeps spinning, but I am losing speed. Everyone is lapping me.
Time moves slower here. Days are accomplished by a single checkmark on a to-do list.
Where does the time go?
Most days are spent surviving.
Learning to balance life, hoping to someday also balance the pain.
Struggling to see through the fog clouding my mind; to recognize the words on my loved ones’ lips. Fighting to carry a conversation from a million miles away.
So… I have a blog. My inner perfectionist is a bit terrified. I’ve never pictured myself as one of those amazing bloggers. (You know, the ones who have their life so together that they not only have great stories and insight to share, but somehow also think to document the event in photos WHILE it’s happening. Or maybe a photographer follows them around all day.) Below is a picture of how my day started, and will likely continue.
I’ve never wanted to let people in to the messy parts of my life. But lately I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the masks we wear and the roles we play. When did it stop being okay to be the person God made us to be? I have this niggling feeling that just won’t go away: Maybe the beauty of our lives is in the struggle. Maybe it lies in our brokenness and God’s redeeming grace.
Maybe there are more options than “perfect” or “fail”. Maybe we need to be real. Maybe we need to spend more time being honest about where we’re at, and less time waiting for a Pinterest-perfect moment to share. And that I can do.