These are two separate journal entries–written without intent to ever be read again by me or anyone else–but I find something really captivating about transparency. Letting private thoughts and struggles be seen is freeing, and I think we as a society need a hell of a lot more transparency. With social media, we spend a lot of time finessing the perfect image we want to portray, but we do a disservice to ourselves and others when we do this. My thoughts are not pretty all the time. There is insecurity, pain, and vice in them. These are unedited words, written candidly and without cautious thought.
I keep catching feelings for people who I would never and should never be interested in because I’m feeling so small and so insecure. In the moments when I see my value and worth, in the moments I remember that I am the beloved daughter of my Heavenly Father, I know that these guys are not what I want. Do I want to date a guy who put’s his hand on my friend’s ass? Am I seriously going to feel self-conscious because he hasn’t tried to put his hand on my ass? Haha—what even is that? I want to get my feet back under me and stop looking at myself and the world around me through this lens of insecurity and unworthiness. I should have every confidence that I am worthy and I am valuable. I should love my neighbor as myself—for me this really convicts me about the way I view myself, rather than my neighbor. I extend so much grace and mercy and compassion to my neighbor, and deny it to myself. I’ve sinned against myself and it’s not okay anymore. I mess up, and I disappoint myself. But I am redeemed. My God calls me by name, and He calls me lovely. I am lovely, I am loved, and I will not live like I am anything less. [6/27/15]
I feel like I’ve hit a snag, and the fabric is running and dwindling away and I’m nearly entirely unraveled. I feel like wearing black and scowling and putting up this big wall to keep everyone out. I want to isolate myself, yet I feel like this is a protective instinct—wanting to close myself off. I don’t want to get hurt. I’m so weary of being insecure, feeling unworthy, and feeling two inches tall. I am so tired of measuring myself through everyone else’s eyes. But I can’t even see with mine. I’m not lonely. I don’t need anyone, and the people I have I want to push away. I want to be alone. I want to be left the hell alone. I feel angry. I want to rant and rage, and then I want to keep my mouth shut, a blank stare on my face, because I don’t want anyone to know me on any personal sort of level. I want to be robotic, cold, detached—closed off. I want these things now. Because it’s what I know and it’s the only way I know how to feel safe anymore.
I’m fucked up, and I blame myself for it. [7/30/2015]
I got drunk for the first, last, and only time in my life Sunday night. It’s strange to me that it has already been three days (today is Wednesday), it feels like yesterday that I tossed and turned all night at Stephanie’s before finally driving home. I don’t feel really guilty or ashamed. Getting drunk was not something I planned on, but I think if I am really honest with myself, I didn’t avoid it either. I could taste the alcohol and I could feel it, but I still kept drinking. It felt good, and I liked it. Even now I kind of would like to get drunk again. My mind, the wiser part of me is insisting that I never ever allow myself to drink like that again though. I remember feeling relaxed, happy, and aware—yet at the same time there was a certain level of freedom I felt that I don’t trust. In this case, I was with my friends and people I generally trust. But I can easily see how with different people and in a different circumstance, I might have really made some bad choices.
And here is the cringe-worthy aftermath: Christian and I are friends, good friends, not friends with benefits, but we have gotten close before. In a cuddly way. But for a guy and girl, cuddling isn’t probably the wisest thing. I feel like in allowing this to happen though, I lead Christian on in a way that was not indicative of the way I feel about him. I like being his friend, and there is a part of me that really felt fulfilled by his attention (which I perceived in a platonic way but honestly suspected at times was potentially diverging from mere friendship). However, I know that even if I were attracted to him and even if I were to have feelings beyond friendship for him, a relationship with him would be a mistake. We have different values, and he has a past that would be a significant threat to our relationship, especially when I consider the baggage I would bring. Our baggage is incompatible. I have a need for a great deal of validation and tend to get really insecure easily. With his carefree attitude and tendency to go out and drink a lot with friends, not to mention his experience (including a divorce), I know it would be a recipe for disaster were we to try to have a relationship. We’d have fun a lot of the time, as long as we didn’t actually take anything to seriously. Over time, it would be impossible to only ever have fun though and the serious things would demand attention. It would be at that point that he would get really tired of having to deal with my high-maintenance emotions, and I would get really tired of feeling like he was being dismissive and inconsiderate of how I feel. Now, all of this is pretty irrelevant though since I don’t have feelings beyond friendship for him. I’m not attracted to him. He’s fun, he’s funny, and he has a pretty good heart, but that’s all there is.
I feel like there is a piece of me missing that I keep trying to fill with the attentions of guys. I know God should fill this void, I know He can and that He is willing. For some reason though, knowing this, feeling this and praying for Him to fill the void has not made me better or okay. I still feel the roaring hunger in my chest. I feel left out in the cold. I feel undesirable. I feel unworthy and alone.
I have these moment of confidence and clarity wherein I know who I am—who God designed me to be and what He wants for me. But these are glimpses of beauty I can’t maintain. Why didn’t Caleb like me back? I liked him so much, and prayed about it. I sought God first in liking Him, and yet a good guy like him didn’t seem to glance twice at me. What was I missing? Maybe Caleb knew better—maybe the Holy Spirit instilled a peace in him that kept him from noticing me or being concerned by relationships. Maybe I was meant to like Caleb for what it would teach me, even if nothing ever came of it. And maybe that was it. Maybe that was the purpose of that season of my life, even if it hurt. [aug 19, 2015]
I went to dinner. And then we went to a movie. It was Christian—we felt like friends, or at least I felt very much like friends. I like him, but I don’t feel like leaving the friend zone. I don’t think liking someone is enough—you have to want to let someone that close, and I don’t.
How numb have I become—my mom came to my door last night, sobbing, and I was not confused or surprised. I felt a slightly-bored anticipation for what was about to come—had he raped her again? Were the fighting? Did he find out something new? Was another lie about to crash into me in a chaotic mess of betrayal?
She was having a meltdown—unexpectedly in the middle of the night with seemingly nothing more to have brought it on other than her own torrid thoughts. This is why I am numb. You can only feel so much for too long before you just can’t do it anymore. I feel like I was standing for a time on a raft just off the shore of an island, tethered only by a rope from the raft to a tree. I feel like I slowly but steadily tore at this rope and a while back—I’m not even sure when—it gave way and I’ve been disconnected ever since, slowly drifting further and further away.
It’s not even like I feel this terrible, broody, darkness and having someone to relate to or open up to would help. No, I don’t even want to be comforted or understood by Stephanie. I want to be left alone. I feel such an anger, and I don’t want anyone near it, to see it, or to touch it. It’s mine, and I want it to myself—as strange a feeling as that is to have. I want to be alone. Leave me. The fuck. Alone. [aug 28, 2015]
These are raw words–I’m a work in progress and I know it. There is no story here and there is as of yet no resolution. These are feelings and moments charged by strong emotions and confusion, so if you’re reading this try not to judge me too harshly. The goal here is transparency–I’m not asking for advice or assistance, please. This was just to share so other people going through things they think they have to hide know they aren’t alone.