There's something so unsettling about starting over. Having spent my life in a constant state of renewal, I had become so accustomed to the feeling of "new" that I began to forget entirely how scary and debilitating change can be when it is sudden and drastic. I forgot what it feels like to have the weight of the world not only on your shoulders, but within your chest. When things are so heavy on you that your lungs feel compressed and the air you breathe is thick and suspended in moments. When you have to remind yourself to inhale, to exhale, to keep a rhythm going so you don't pass out. Living in a perpetual carnival where I felt untouchable had turned me into a skeptic of sorts. I felt like if I kept things in my life in a cycle of "new" at all times I would never have to feel what all those people feel when they have to get out of bed one day and begin again. It seems backwards in some ways, because by changing, moving, revamping myself continuously, I was starting over more often. But it was that rapid rate of change in my life that made it impossible for me to really feel the gravity of being at square one once again. I have found myself at this point only a handful of times in my life, and only now do I feel the sobering reality of how disturbing it really is to suddenly find your life in total upheaval.
It was made very clear to me in less than 24 hours how suddenly life can begin, change, and ultimately end. I spent last night visiting some good friends I have not seen in nearly 2 years. I cannot explain how wonderful it feels to be wrapped up into the arms of people who were a significant part of your life, and to be told how missed and loved you are. I found so much comfort last night in the feeling of manipulated time. The feeling that maybe things have never changed and none of us ever really have to grow up or move on. It was bittersweet, talking about how things used to be and how our days used to blur together in a painted swirl of mixed emotions. How we used to do life together and all that that encompassed. How we used to talk so often that no story needed to be prefaced with any background information and no explanation was necessary. How we used to be present always in each other's lives, celebrating successes, mourning losses, and enjoying one another for nothing more than the people we were on a daily basis. And as life progressed and we went our separate ways, we were left with nothing more than old pictures, good memories, and a few "thinking of you" texts or calls. We are no longer current, but it was evident last night that our relevancy never fades. To see those faces again and know that no time or distance has changed our feelings for one another is something that I cherish, now more than ever. Some friends, will just be friends for life. Period.
After saying some tearful goodbyes and making promises to visit soon (which I intend to keep) I began the long drive home at 3 am. Normally, I am a drive to live kind of person. I blast the music, I sing terribly at the top of my lungs, and I forget, for however long, that I am going through anything other than that exact moment. But last night, with my friend asleep in the passenger seat, I found myself doing none of those things as my drive began. Instead, I found myself surrounded by a metaphysical silence. The white noise from the heater was the only thing I could hear in the distance as I lost myself in prayer. I spend time in prayer everyday, and while I am good about avoiding routine prayer or "filler" prayer, I do tend to err on the side of attractive prayer. I don't like to get ugly when I pray. I don't like to get into the huge issues by myself because they are very real and very scary, and let's be honest here, no one enjoys owning up to their failures and weaknesses. But last night, I threw myself deep into the depths of the ugliest prayer I could find. I owned up to my faults as a daughter, a sister, a friend, a Christian, and most of all, a child. Because after all, a child is what I am. I can talk all I want for the next 50 years about how mature I am, how independent, how "grown up", but that will never change the fact that I am a child. And as a child, my biggest failure is that I stray so far into self-sufficiency I don't give Jesus the opportunity to step in and take my burdens upon himself. I boast in my ability to handle anything and everything and I fail to see the cold, hard truth- without God, I can do NOTHING. I've realized I need to take that literally and allow Him to have control over every aspect of my life, not just the parts where I THINK I need help. Truth be told, I have no way of knowing what I need help with and what I don't because I spend so much time assuring myself that I've got the situation under control. Aside from my shortcomings as a child of Christ, all the other titles I hold have been neglected recently as well. I focus on my pride of being a good friend, but am I actually being one? I focus on telling everyone I live like a Christian, but am I actually doing it? I have spent the last few months cleaning up the pieces of my life and figuring out exactly how to do all of these things myself, when what I should have been doing was drawing closer to the Lord and allowing Him to move me to the those places of humility where he cleans up my mess and dresses my wounds. Sure, I have taken steps over the last couple years to transition my life into one with less hypocricy- I try not to miss church, I got sober, I read my Bible everyday- but none of those things matter if my heart is still compounded by the weight of my own ideology of what exactly I share with the Lord and what I don't. It should never be a choice. I should be laying everything at His feet, not just the things I think I can't handle.
And with that, comes the realization that no one has been able to get close to me for months. Not family, not friends, not guys...no one. I have put up this wall that's impossible to break through and I am so on edge that my defenses are instantly activated at the first sign that someone can hurt me. So these people all end up getting pushed away and I end up getting hurt anyway, only now it's my own fault. I want so many times to just cry and say "I'm sorry, please don't give up on me" but instead I find myself holding back and letting people go without a fight. I find myself giving into my feelings of inadequacy and never giving anyone a chance to really know me and my heart. And when they leave, I am too scared and ashamed to ask them to come bak. And realistically, if I am not letting any of these people in, these people that I truly care about and honestly need in my life, am I really letting Jesus in?? Probably not. Because if I am not considering myself worthy of love or friendship from another person, how on earth can I consider myself worthy of Him?
So I spent the majority of my drive home consumed by this ugly prayer and when I had finally poured out the last of my thoughts I felt the most amazing sense of calm. I felt like I literally had a rock lifted off of me and I could take a breathe without laboring under this massive weight. And then I cried. Oh, did I cry! Relief is the best word to describe it. Relief and gratefulness for having a God so good that he will never give up on you, even when everyone else does. I know that He sees my heart and that He takes me as I am, even when I am doubting, self-critical, and borderline annoying. I have some of the greatest friends in the world, but I find my comfort in the best. In the heart of Jesus. And when everyone else is ignoring me, or sleeping, or simply caught up in their own important lives, He always has time for me.
Upon arriving home this morning around 4:30am, I was able to sleep for a couple hours before dragging myself out of bed for church. Even when my heart is on fire for God, it's still a struggle to make my tired body cooperate. Pastor Cory delivered an awesome message that got better at each service and I left feeling refreshed and consumed, still reveling in my God high from my late night drive. However, given that my body can only take so much, I basically entered a coma once I got home from church and laid down. I was woken from a dream by the sound of my cell phone blaring Go Radio right next to my head. And when I answered, I was told the news that completely shook me to my core. My friend of 14 years, Luke, was killed this morning in a skiing accident in Utah. He was 23. Luke was truly a blessing to everyone who knew him. He took me to my junior prom. We were roommates in Bozeman. We talked weekly. He was engaged to my cousin. I just saw him on Thursday and we caught up over cinnamon rolls and coffee. I am heartbroken. Not only for myself, but for Luke's family, for my cousin, for our family, for everyone he touched. I went to a small get together for the people closest to him tonight, and it was unbearable. The emotional turbulence I have been dealing with compounded with the loss of such a special person in my life has truly gotten the best of me. I am reminded again that this life is short and precious.
Coming home to my empty house, I feel again the sting of being alone and the mistakes I have made in pushing away the people I care about. A few people have checked on me, and for them I am so appreciative. But it doesn't heal the hurt I feel from the last few months, the last few weeks, the last few days even. I try to block it out but it creeps up ever so quietly when I am sitting alone in my house, listening to the clock tick and the dog whimper in her sleep. I miss the sounds of my old life. Even just the sound of my phone going off. I miss the company. I miss the conversation. I miss being relevant. I know my friends are all there for me, and always will be, and this isn't meant to offend anyone or make them think that I don't adore every single one of you. But, like everyone who drifts apart from people, I miss having that core group that I turned to about everything. Or even just having that one person to talk to who will never judge me, never think less of me, never leave. I miss people walking into my house without knocking. I miss getting a text just because I am on someone's mind. But I know that I am relevant to God and eventually, the right people will come into my life (or back into my life) and stay there and I will wonder where they have been this whole time. I am trying to just let things happen the way they are meant to, regardless of my own desires or fears. I am scared of everything right now, but I know in good time, a purpose will be revealed.
So I guess, what this was all meant to say is that I am a mess. Truly, in the purest form of the word, I am a chaotic, emotional, lost, confused, and totally ridiculous mess. And although I will always have those days where it's hard and I want to give up or crawl under a rock, I'm still going to be strong. Above everything else, I am completely wrecked for Jesus in a way that I haven't been in so long. I am looking at nothing without His eyes and I am doing nothing of my own accord because this is not my life to lead. I am terribly alone in person, but spiritually I am fulfilled. I am addicted to God and his presence in my daily life. I know that whatever is going on with me is huge and I am ready for what comes next, even though I may not feel prepared at all. I am a disaster and while I am letting Him work on fixing me, I am hoping that the people I care about will understand that we are all works in progress and we all need someone who will stay. Someone who won't run away just because they don't understand what you're going through. Someone who will put in the same effort when you are broken that they will when you are healed. Someone who will see you for who you are and look past your insecurities and faults. So no, being in my life right now may not be easy, in fact, much like me it will probably be pretty messy. But it will be so worth it. Because I am worth it. And given the chance I intend to prove it.
