It was this day- one year ago. I dwelled in the darkest
places of my mind, and even there felt empty, alone, unworthy. So, it scares me
what I have been feeling over the last few days. Not the heavy suffocating
darkness of depression, but of the fear of being alone, unworthy. Of the fear
that my mind has convinced me, from years of living, loving, losing and letting
go, that if I were to hope for love again I would surely fail and that failure
would be an abyss I would never ascend from. Broken heart, broken mind, broken
soul led me to being broken open by the grace of God. Accepting Jesus Christ as
my Lord and savior was the easy part. Believing in a love that would die on the
cross for me, well, it’s something I could not grasp. I surely would never be
that lovable. Surely that sacrifice was made for those in the front row, the
VIP section, not for me- looking in through a window to a world I only hoped
that SOMEDAY, I would be able to walk in. Let my deeds out run my words---
chronic loneliness becomes a comfort. It becomes usual and normal. It has
wonderful hiding places for dreams, desires, and hopes- So when I felt called
to go to Africa from the serendipitous experiences over the last 11 months, it
felt like a relief. To be thought of as so noble, so Christ like to put aside
my western home to be in service to my neighbor, who is only like me in that we
bleed the same way. I realized today that it was just another hiding place. A
safe place to place my heart and soul so that it would have less of a chance of
being rejected, hurt, and through my mind’s eye, a fatal wound.
What better place for me to be? No one would be surprised
that I remained single. No one would question if I knew what my purpose was
because the assumption, of course, would be that I was living out my purpose. I
would be able to convince people that I had it all figured out. Wouldn’t living
in chaos allow me to never fail in that arena?
I’ve been an imposter in my own mind. Thinking it was my high
standards, my relentless pursuit of nothing less than perfect that validated my
loneliness. That validated my refusal of being vulnerable.
All along it has just been fear. A fear that, yes, over the
years has been fed by insecurities, false hopes, manipulation and being broken
by what I thought was love from another person. To risk hoping for love, I
would have to accept the possibility of being irreparably broken. I haven’t
even had the courage to recognize this in myself until today, so there has been
no instance in the last five years that I hadn’t sabotaged, for lack of a
better word, every relationship I’ve ever had, except for with children. I
haven’t opened myself up even to friendships. Even at work, I have maintained a
façade that I’m so independent and carefree, confident and self- assured.
Eating sushi alone. Watching live music alone. Being out alone. As if it was my
choice and desire. In the small area of my heart where this secret has been
stored, there still exists one more defining revelation. I don’t know how to
NOT be alone. I don’t know how to have the courage to be the half of a
relationship. I haven’t figured out how to overcome that paralyzing emotion of
fear in being hurt, rejected by another person.
The only straw that I am grasping at is that God will show me the way.
That he will always love me, warts and all.
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