I want healing...?

Okay, okay, okay, okay.



Okay.


"Don't hold back anymore."

Those are the words my dear little brother in Christ spoke to me last night. God has been saying similar words to me these past few days, over and over and over again. It is clear that He wants me to speak up, but I honestly just don't know what to say. I feel, well, nothing. Only, I feel overwhelmingly sad. I suppose this is a good place to start.

My heart is knots. My body is physically unhealthy. I feel as if I may throw up, and when I swallow I feel as if my throat might never open again. I can't find a comfortable temperature, I'm either shaking with cold, or far too warm. Perhaps my physical health represents the current state of my heart.

I am overcome, once again, by this kelp of anxiety. It wraps effortlessly around my ankles and arms and waist. These weeds work their way up to my neck, as I kick desperatley, trying to reach the surface. But as I fight, it seems that I only become more entangled, and am pulled further and further under the water.

It seems that I nearly drown this way quite regularly. Maybe I ought to make sure there are lifeguards near by.

You see, part of my problem is that sometimes, to be frank, I am a complete idiot. I hurt ikwith these anxieties, but I refuse to let anyone in, and therefore, refuse to release that pain. A simple, yet contradictory thought in my head, is that I don't want people to 'care' about me just because I am hurting, if they make no effort to care when I am good. And yet, I am so hurt when people ignore that I am hurting, and just don't care all together. What am I to do? I genuinly do not how to eliminate 17 years, and 9 months worth of bottling up pain. How might one even begin to takle that?

What stinks is that it will resurface out of nowhere, causing little anxiety attacks, and in turn, causing me to simply shut down, and shut everyone out. A great choice, I know. But when that hurt resurfaces, I just want to ignore it. I pretend it isn't there, in hopes that it will go away. I do the same thing over and over, expecting things to get better. Did you know that the definition of {foolishness} is to do something repeatedly, expecting different results? I certainly am a fool.

How does a fool, such as myself, become a little more wise?

In need of repair.

An excerpt of my thoughts and emotions written on July 20th.


Last night at church, Chris, who was speaking this week offered to us his thoughts on the story of the prodigal son. Have you ever heard the story?
It's found in Luke, chapter 15.
What basically happens, is that a father gives his son money, to which his son goes off and squanders it on meaningless and terrible things. He ends up working in like a farm...with pigs and stuff...
anyway, he discovers that he's not too keen on hanging out with farm animals and their feces, and decides to go back home. He comes to his dad, apologizing, as he just runs to him. He doesn't begrudginly come to answer the door, no, he runs to him. I don't know about you, but when I give someone something, and then they completely ditch out on me...my first reaction is not often to run up to them with cheer. It should be, but it's not.
But this man's father runs to him, telling his servants to slaughter their best cow; they are having a celebration!
I started crying as I thought of this imagery.
Straight up, I put my head in my hands, and started sniffling. I didn't want to cry...number one: and this is terrible, but I really didn't want my mascara to smudge all over my face, number two: I hate being vulnerable, number three: I wanted to have a chipper last evening in Victoria before I left for the summer. But that's not always how it works, hey?
As I sat sniffling and trying to hide my tears, a dear friend began to talk to me. He started talking about that story, and suddenly looked right into my eyes and said "what you want more than anything is for your father to come running to you, isn't it?"
I really started crying then. And then I shut myself off.
I really didn't want to cry, and I just stopped those emotions from pouring in. Which, in retrospect, is very stupid. I don't want to do that...it makes you numb.
It's true, what my friend said. I do want my dad to come running to me. I do.
I don't know what it's like to have a dad who cares. I don't know what it's like to have a dad who loves.
I can't imagine my dad ever running to me like that. And just the same, I can't imagine myself running to him. I'm terrified of him.
I need to do something, and I know it. I keep pretending that it's all good, when it's not.
Oh, how I frusterate myself.