Sunday, November 1, 2015

Square peg, round hole

I really wish I could not be me sometimes. I hate the anxiety that makes me break into a cold sweat at the idea of small talk. I hate that I disappoint my social butterfly daughter because I just don't cope with people and I have to leave right now, so I don't cry in front of them all, and can dissolve in the privacy of my car, with the wiggles turned up loudly in the backseat so the two little people behind me don't hear. I wish that I could stop the fear that suffocates me, and I wish I could silence that voice that keeps screaming about my inadiquacies inside my head. I wish I could be enough, and do enough, and I hate this pitiful, afraid creature I have become, with sharp edges, and anger and bitterness balled up inside. Why don't I just fit?

I'm sorry. I have doubts and questions, and my passion waxes and wanes, and I am opinionated and hard at times, and I make other people uncomfortable, and I'm not skinny, and I'm often wrong and sad and unhappy. But I believe Jesus loves me too. I believe that God doesn't mind if I don't win, as long as I try, and as long as I'm always looking for him. I trust in the one who loves me when I am least able to love myself, but need it the most.

I don't really think it's other people's fault. They aren't really the reason I can't talk to them. I mean, sure, I wish cliques weren't so excluding, and I wish it wasn't quite so easy to fall off the radar. I wish I didn't get overlooked because of who my family is, and I wish it had never gotten to this point, because I don't really know how to come back from here. Part of me blames them and gets hurt and upset, at things that have happened, all the bricks in the wall, but my particular brand of crazy seems intent on destroying its host. So mostly I wish was different. 

I wish I could go back to being that version of me, who said all the right things, and was exactly what the culture told me to be. But I don't think that's even possible anymore. I want to be shiny and happy, and fit in with the perfect veneer. But nothing seems the same anymore. Mummy the emperor is naked. I don't even know who I am or where I fit anymore. Very round peg, very square hole.  I wish I didn't care so much about what other people thought of me.

I must admit though, that I am a bit tired of a culture that tells me I have to be all that I can be, one that tells me I have to give all I have got. I've given, and I am used up. How about teaching us how to go to the well that will never run dry? Because I've lost my way.  I believe in a church that equips the saints and makes the broken feel the love of Jesus. Not one that uses you up and then spits you out when you have nothing left to offer. I believe in knowledge and wisdom, and theology and truth and love and compassion, and Lord, let there be grace.

Im sorry. I'm wrong again. All this is wrong, all of me is wrong, and I just need to get over myself and trust in God and fix my eyes in Him. But I am trying. How long, how hard do you have to try before things get better? Can someone please tell me? How much longer do I try before I can't anymore? I know, my mind is fixed on me too much. I know I am stuffed with faults and sins and good intentions. But I am trying, all the time I am trying. Why can't that be enough? Dear God, why can I not just fit in?

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