Archive for October, 2009

Fighting for Sanity

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know. Where the tree tops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells on the snow. I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write. May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white.”


Christmas really is the perfect time of year for me. It’s when hope is renewed, faith is strong, love is abundant, and cinnamon finds itself into everything we eat or drink. It’s happy time, you can’t stop the good feelings and the laughter and the community and the friendships from flourishing. I’m ready for this season in my life again. You’d think that you would hit an all-time low and then recover and never face it again. Which I guess is true, I’m just pretty good at finding new all-time lows. Lucky me, right?

I’m still working this latest one out. It’s hard to work from the end to the beginning, to start with my emotions and my reactions and work backwards to figure out the reasons behind them. It’s very disconcerting to be sad or angry and tired or frustrated and have no idea why. There’s always a little voice in my head going “Really? Why?”

My only solution is to change my surroundings. Maybe I’m depressed because I’m always alone. I never see my roommate, I’m awake when everyone is asleep, and my only human interactions are with my coworkers at work. So I’ve moved back home with my family to see if that doesn’t help. I never appreciated my family when I lived with them, mainly because they weren’t my family then. They were the people I co-existed with. Now that I want them to be my family, I’ve found it difficult to re-connect with them since I live so far away and have such a hectic schedule.  Living at home doesnt change my schedule. In fact, it makes my life a little more complicated I think because it’s farther away from work. But I think it’s worth it to come home to people, to have my sisters dying to tell me what happened that day, to have my brother beg for me to play Transformers with him, to be able to moan and complain about my day to my dad and have him laugh about it with me. It’s worth it to have people waiting for me every day, wondering when I’m coming home, asking what I’m doing later that day.

Scott asked me today if he could be the ring bearer for my wedding. I asked him why he would ask me that and he said “because you’re getting married soon.” Even my little 8 year old brother knows how desperately I desire to have my own family. Part of my moving out of the house was to create my own family and I’ve tried to do so by joining other families, being a mother to as many as I could, seeking dating relationships, and gathering together a “college” family. But these families didn’t last, and while I still value all the friendships I accumulated, they aren’t a daily reality anymore.


Maybe instead of looking for a new family, I should enjoy and develop the one I was born in.


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There are so many demons to fight. So many lessons to learn and implement, so many skills to use and streets to navigate. It’s overwhelming, it’s underwhelming. It’s too much and way too little. It’s real and it’s fake, imagination and reality. To be lonely is hard. To be lonely in a room of hundreds of people is suffocating. It’s debilitating. It’s demoralizing. It’s degrading. It’s easy to mask, easy to hide. But then again it’s hard. So very very hard. To pretend is what you have to do to survive. Because once you stop pretending, then the loneliness is not only a part of your reality, it’s a part of your identity. It becomes who you are, a self-fulfilling prophecy. A never-ending cycle that you can’t pull out of. A hole that you can’t fill, a vacuum of space that stops time while you are crushed with the pain. You want to reach out your hand but don’t have the strength to. You’re fully aware and yet fully deceived. You know the heroes among you, you can recognize their power. But your fear to alienate keeps you back. Your fear to be identified as the desperate, needy, clingy, drowning individual that you are keeps you from seeking help. You want the healthy to want to visit you in the psych ward. You want someone to see that you just want a friend. You’re tired of filling your life and your bed with people who don’t really care about you. You’re tired of seeking friendships with people who are just as screwed up as you are. So you pray and you pray and you pray that God will send you help. That He will rescue you. And you try and seek after Him every second of every day, to fill those empty holes with His presence. But it is increasingly harder and it’s increasingly easier to be distracted by the nonsense around you. It’s easier to send a txt than it is to pray. It’s easier to feel safe when you sleep with arms around you than when you read a verse. Not even the peace of God lasts you. It too fades away and you have to be re-charged, just like the empty friendships that come and go. It’s no wonder you pray so earnestly for that spouse. Because once he comes, the waiting is over. You’ll finally have someone who loves you. But God loves you? It’s a truth that cannot be denied…but hard to realize. What is love? Is it possible to be loved but not feel like it? Is it then my fault that I don’t feel loved?

How can I feel when my very skin is numb, when I’m floating in empty space where sound and light and warmth can’t survive. There’s nothing above or behind me, below or in front of me. There is no up or down or left or right. The joystick is broken and there is no going home. It’s just how things are. This is reality. You don’t miss comforts when you have never experienced them. You forget about how good a bed feels when you’ve slept on the ground for years. You adapt to your surroundings and become thankful for the days you aren’t insane. Because who says love exists when you can’t see it? It’s all around us, it changes peoples lives, it’s all there is, it’s in the DNA of every molecule of life and unlife. Love is not real until it punches you in the face.

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