This is the rest of what I've been trying to say lately.
This is finishing the thought I've been prattling on about for the past few weeks. It's scattered, it's barely coherent, but... Hey, it is what it is.
I wrote the
majority of this post about three weeks ago. A lot of the sad bits are still sad, but not as bad. Not that it was some miraculous, overnight, tidy fix - but it kind of was, actually. For the first time in a long time I feel like me again
thanks to some truly wonderful friends who respect me enough to be honest, even
when it’s hard.
You know how they say “the truth will set you free”? I can
attest to that.
But even with these new eyes, I still
wanted to post this because it’s honest and it’s been on my heart. I've hated being that vague blogger who hints at things but never says it.
And here on the blog, though hardly a small or even necessarily a "safe" place, there has been carved out of this world an arena to share our lives with people who amazingly, and even miraculously, care.
The
incredible love and kindness and encouragement you all have shown me as I’ve
shared some rough stuff has meant the absolute world to me. To the friends I may have never met in person, but have stood strong around me when I've fallen, my God. Thank you.
And to the people right here, who have held me as I've shaken, promised me when I've broken, and listened when I've wept ((and to the one brother in particular who begged me not to because it would only set him off as well - I think that meant more to me than anything else))... How can I ever make it up to you?
Truly. I’m
just… I’m overwhelmed.
Your friendships are amazing.
By no means do I think that this has been the end all be all of hard times. Especially with the heartbreaking honesty of other writers in this world of ours, I've seen things in perspective like you wouldn't believe.
But I remember something my not-by-blood-but-defintely-meant-to-be uncle Helios once told me:
Never think you have it worse than someone else.
Pain is relative. And we all handle it in different ways. And we should never assume our pain is greater than another's - nor should we downgrade our own hurt.
And so I
share this to continue toward healing a broken heart. And hope that if it can
encourage anyone else along the way, I will have paid forward the gift of hope
I’ve received from so many bloggers before who set out to talk about hard
things, tell the truth and move on.
Things are
still not perfect, but I have been happier and felt more honest to God joy in
the past few weeks than I have in two years. Maybe even ever.
So thank you
for bearing with me, thank you for listening, and thank you for being honest with me.
For the
record, no matter how much it hurts, always be
honest.
We owe each other that.
The truth
comes out in the end.
Two years ago, I would not have felt comfortable
talking openly about God. I had a relationship with Him, but was nothing
too spectacular. At that time I don't even know that I'd have called it a relationship per se. Other than knowing He was there, I didn't treat it as something tangible. It was what it was. Nothing groundbreaking.
But what little I knew about Him then, and what I have
come to know even more in the past two years, is that God isn’t interested in
“nothing too spectacular”. Lukewarm
isn’t His bag. And while He has a hard time with half-assing things like love
and faith, the one thing He doesn’t have any trouble with is patience.
Praise be.
If He weren’t so patient with me, I’d have been a
goner a long time ago.
But He saw something – something that it took a
heart-shattering event to bring about in my soul and promised to use that – to
use that very heartbreak to pull me out of a whole different kind of
heartbreak: the heartbreak I would have known had I continued on with my life
as it was, blissfully unaware of the beauty He had created for me that I was
too merrily oblivious to even consider might exist. I might have missed the
calling He had on my life and never even known it.
___________
There’s a song called “
Reckless” by Jeremy Camp
that I hear all the time. I love it and hate it all at once.
Every time I
try to play it safe
Holding back
just a little part of me
I find
myself forgetting what I say that I believe
Guh. Stick it to me.
I’m not sure how many more times I’m going to have
to learn that lesson the hard way, but here’s some advice: don’t hold back.
Hold fast, but don’t hold back.
He’ll get your attention and it won’t be fun.
But I digress...
___________
A few weeks ago at church, Dominic Done spoke about
about being right here, on the edge. You've heard me talk about this 'til I'm blue in the face.
There have been a few times in the last couple
years where I’ve either found myself in absolute shambles in the middle of
church ((less fun)) and sitting there
with my jaw literally hanging open at the way a message could have been
designed just for me ((not more fun really, but less of a public spectacle)).
And that lesson sort of hit both nails. And with
that, it was fully time to stop effing around and step up to the plate. So I did, reluctantly at first. Because I knew that committing fully wouldn't be easy.
This is hard. Harder than I ever imagined. When
people say living a Christian life is difficult it is not a warning, it is a
promise.
And I had no idea how much they meant it.
In trying to get a handle on myself and my thought
processes and the way I deal with things, I find myself constantly having to
stop and get off my own track and realize that I don’t know what I’m doing. The
tips and tactics I’ve whispered to myself over and over throughout the years
are no longer working and while I’d love to just sit here in a pile on the
floor whimpering about how it’s not going my way, and "my God, are you seriously telling me there is no other way than this?!", I have to peel myself from
the hardwood and force myself to lay it all down. Because I can’t stand back up
if I’m still holding onto all the things that weigh me.
So. You want the truth?
I’m sad. A lot. And I've been really sad for two years.
When someone whispered the word "depression" at me I scoffed and said, "No, it's not that."
But you know what? It kind of is. I still hate that word but quite frankly, I don't think there's a better word for it. There have been days where I didn't get out of bed. Days I couldn't eat ((weirdest phenomenon of all)). Days when I woke up to the sun shining and begged the heavens to close back up and turn to night again, willing it all away, back to a restless sleep that at the very least was better than waking.
I've been mad at myself for letting this happen. Mad at God for allowing someone this power over me. Mad that I would let someone mean more to me than God. All of it. Mad... Sad... Shit. I've been to the point of not knowing what to feel so I just let myself go a little catatonic on the world.
Friendships have suffered, and I've withdrawn from a lot of things - telling people in the different "worlds" I live in that I was busy playing in one of the others.
If my friends in the city wanted to do something, I'd tell them I was with my friends in the country. And vice versa. And don't get me started on friends who are far away - the friendships that need nurturing most of all. And to be fair, I've made sure to keep pretty busy so most of the time my "excuses" were actually "reasons".
But some nights, I was just alone in my apartment trying to figure out how to get through the next day.
And sure, I might be just a silly girl with a
broken heart but you know what? I can’t be ashamed of that.
And believe me,
I’ve spent a long time being ashamed
of that. Because I’ve not given myself permission to be publicly ((publicly here meaning outside my immediate
group of friends who know me and love me no matter what)) hurt by all of
this.
Because I don’t want to look weak.
Because I don’t want him to think I’m weak. Because I didn't want to give this whole thing that power over me.
Because we’re told over and over not to fall to
pieces “over some guy”. We’re shamed into thinking that letting ourselves feel
the loss of love is some sort of damnable offense. That we should
either have a stiff upper lip or just deal with it.
And so I have been vague ((and a little emo - sorry about that)) on this blog because unless you’ve been close to
me over the past two years I was afraid to get too into it.
But the truth is that while I am genuinely happy and joyful so much of
the time ((and oh my goodness, I promise you the joy is real - the happiness and gratitude I show on this blog are not feigned in any way - I am blessed beyond belief and beyond reason and I am beside myself with trying to let you all know how much joy you bring me)), no one sees what happens when I lock that door behind me at the end
of the day.
I come home to no one and take off the armor and sink into my couch
and you know what? More often than not, I cry.
I have cried so much I can't believe it.
In fact, there has hardly been a single day in the last
two years that I haven’t cried.
Whether it’s tearing up
a bit when I hear a certain song, or choking back that tight feeling in my throat when I
feel it start out of nowhere, I can’t think of the last time I made it from one sunrise to
another without the hint of tears.
I’ve been really afraid to say all of that.
I’ve been afraid of who might read it. Whether it
be people from my past, or people I’ve only just met. But there it is. I’m
done. This, talking about it and acknowledging there is a real problem, is one course of action I haven’t tried yet and I am so done with this not-healing thing I’ve
had going on for too long.
I’m done.
Limit hit.
**note: and as I said at the start of this, much of this part of the story has shifted dramatically in the past few weeks - this part, I'm so thankful to say, is finally passing**
___________
As Dom wrapped up his message that Sunday morning
he told a story of his daughter when she was about a year old. They lived in
Hawaii at the time and while the almost offensively beautiful surroundings
never got old, the cockroaches they could have done without.
One day he walked in on his daughter playing on the floor.
Happy as a clam, there she was with - as is often the case with toddlers - something she was chewing on.
He looked closer.
Know what it was?
A cockroach.
A cockroach.
Immediately, he rushed to her and tore it away from
her and if you have ever taken something away from a toddler, you can imagine
what happened next.
She went ballistic.
She couldn’t believe her father would take away
something that was making her so happy.
But Dom knew better. He knew it wasn’t good for
her. Even though she couldn’t see it, he was saving her from a world of bad by
taking that cockroach out of her hands ((or
mouth, as it were)).
So, if you’re following me at all here you can see
where this is going…
Guys... I’ve been sitting here chewing on a
cockroach.
Now I’m not saying that anyone in my life is a cockroach, good lord no. All I’m
saying is that the parallel here is pretty convicting. Deep down I’ve known
this was not a good situation to be in but again, if you’ve ever been in love
you know how hard it is. When you’re the only one fighting for it. And
sometimes, you just don’t want to see the truth.
Because I wasn’t “getting it”. I wasn’t paying
enough attention when God said He meant business here. He wants my whole heart and will settle for nothing less. And He'll do whatever it takes.
And much as I can’t quite
believe it all, I fear now that I’ve lost a friend entirely. Maybe not for good
– my God, how I pray it’s not for good – but for the time being I have been removed from the life of one of my best friends. The choice was not mine
and I’m struggling. Struggling like you wouldn’t believe.
I know some of the why, but when you have been
promised time and again that a friendship is the one thing you’ll never lose,
you start to lose heart. And what’s left just starts to ache all over again.
Getting
past mourning the relationship was one thing, and one that I've finally dealt with.
But I was not prepared to mourn a
friendship.
And yet…
In an interview years ago, Elie Weisel said that
those were his favorite words – “And yet.”
Because if anyone knows the power of redemption, of
finding hope, of clinging to the promise of peace in the darkest days it’s him.
And so I will say them here: and yet…
For better of for worse, I can’t neglect hope. I
can’t shake it. It follows me ((frequently
when I’m begging it not to)) and refuses to let me give up.
Now I suppose there are worse things to be plagued
with, but when you really want to shake it off and rid yourself of a painful
memory, hope is kind of a bitch.
And yet I trust God to heal this friendship. Someday.
I hope He does. I know He can.
But not right now. Right now, I know this is for the
best and strangely, I want it this way. And with many more months of continuing a physical divide to literally
force us to stay in our separate corners, I am praying to be allowed back in
this person’s life when the storm has passed.
I hope.
But you know what? In that heartache, I’ve learned
even more to trust God.
He has given me no reason to not trust Him on this.
There will always be people who will give you a reason not to trust them, but
God? Never. He’s been the one steadfast one in all of this.
And as I’ve said
before,
if this is what is takes to make me really believe that,
then so be it.
Whether this will be the last post I write on the
topic or not, I can’t say. This honesty thing feels pretty good ((and again, bless you all for allowing me
this time and space to get it all out because holy catharsis, Batman, have you tried writing your worries out? I forgot how much this helps)).
And with letting go comes this brand new excitement
for what is coming! And I’m ready. I can’t wait to see what’s
next because I trust Him when He says He won’t allow pain without something new
to be born from it.
I couldn’t have said that two years ago. I wouldn't have even known what that meant.
Life is very different than how I imagined it would
be at this point but realizing how good
different can be is pretty wonderful.
So needless to say, I will shut up now and enjoy the rest of the ride.
___________
If you're struggling, if you're hurting, if the ground beneath your feet feels just a little less stable than what you're comfortable with... You are so not alone in this.
Please, no matter what you do, don't give up hope.
Absolutely allow yourself to feel it, to let it sink in. Do not let anyone tell you to get over it, or just ignore it.
That won't work. I tried that.
Confront it head-on but don't beat yourself up if you're not moving right along with the healing process.
You are not on anyone's schedule but your own.
Trust yourself, trust the people who love you and trust in God, or the Universe, or whomever it is you can look to.
Don't try to deal with it all alone.
We were made to be here for each other.
And for what it's worth, I'm here for you. Never hesitate to call, text, email, comment, whatever.
I'm here for you. Just like you were here for me.
We're here for each other.
No matter what.
With much love & gratitude, hope & healing, grace & peace,
Lauren
