Getting Lost

Today I took some chances, adventured out, and even got lost. I didn’t realize that I was seeking the sea until I was already on my way towards it. I did something I’ve never done before: I began to drive without knowing my destination. I just drove. Years ago I remember traveling with a friend who used to take me on “spirit journeys,” where he would just drive wherever the “spirit” led him. I felt sort of like that today as I drove, getting myself hopelessly lost in the process (but then again…can anyone really ever be lost in this world of GPS’s and iPhones?).

Eventually, I somehow ended up exactly where I wanted to be: Sandbridge. I hadn’t really been aware that this was my end destination, but yet here it was, and here I was.

I took off my shoes and shuffled through the damp sand. It was raining and I was still wearing my new dress, but I didn’t care. I walked up and down on the beach, probably looking like an oddity in my church dress, and a loner. But again, I didn’t care.

At one point, I ventured too far towards the water and an icy wave (which I had greatly underestimated) swept up and tried to bring me down in its cold caress. I jumped back, but it was too late. I was already soaked from the waist down. But even this time, I didn’t care.

When I had soaked in enough of the sand and the waves (although I still wonder if one can ever have enough), I trudged back to my car and did another thing that I’ve never done before: drive home barefooted. I can actually see my mother rolling her eyes as she reads this.

All of these things, from getting lost to walking in the rain and getting my dress wet, are all things that would have bothered me before and made me either panic or fret over. But today none of that seemed to matter anymore, if it ever really did.

I think that I’ve been a barrier to my own happiness for so long that I forgot how to be carefree, if I ever really even knew. Life isn’t about “don’t-walk-in-the-rain-you-will-catch-a-cold” rules or “always-know-where-you-are-going” suggestions, because sometimes you discover some of the best things when you think you are lost. And sometimes, we all just need a cleansing rain.

Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

I’ve been told all of my life that happiness is a choice. Today I think I finally understand what that really means because I’ve been striving all day to be happy. It was hard work, but do you know what? I had a pretty good day.

During these happy moments that I have, my mind is full of lovely things like ballet slippers, charcoal drawings, and snippets of poetry. I’ve been seeking out beautiful things all day. That is why I was so wonderfully surprised when I stumbled upon this:

He told her he was moving on

 But he had nothing better to gain

 She felt broken, joy all but gone

 But her tears were drying in the rain

My friend Kirk wrote this. He said these words had been circling around in his head all day, so he had to write them down. I’m so glad that he did. He didn’t intend it for me, but I claimed it for myself anyway, because they are beautiful, and I can feel them.

 

In the same vein, a year or so ago, I auditioned for a play in which my audition was to simply read aloud the poem “Hope” by Emily Dickinson. The first stanza says:

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune--without the words,

And never stops at all,

I didn’t understand it then, but I think that I do now. Hope is this feathered, living thing that resides in all of us. And even when we feel like things are at their worst, when there is nothing left in this life to live for, Hope sings out a wordless song to remind us to hold on. On my bad days, I mean on my really dark days, I can still hear this feathered little imp singing softly within me. It peeps ever so slightly, with notes that are barely audible, but it is still there. It still sings. I still sing.

I have chosen to be happy.

Make-Up

He made her feel beautiful when she wore no make-up and yoga pants. She put her eyeliner and mascara away and for the first time in her life didn't even miss them.

But now, she's alone and feels like there is no beauty left. Bright red lipstick, blush, and cat-eyes are all she has now as she tries desperately to feel pretty again.

She goes about her day with a smile, and even her boss says she is beautiful, but the words are as hollow as the emptiness within her soul. If she could cry out inside, there would be an echo.

"No more happy thoughts... Lost..." are the words from some childhood movie that play over and over in her head as she comes home from yet another day. She sits on the floor in a dark room and cries bitterly.

Trained by so many directors and dance instructors, few have ever really seen her this way. She shares the only way she knows how: with her words, her pencil, her computer.

If only she could share with the one person she wants. If only she could reach out to the one who once made her feel beautiful.

Now, so many colors of make-up run down her cheeks. Clean it up, honey. Tomorrow you must face The world again. And someday it will all be better, but today is not that day.

Unhappy, But Not Un-Joyful

Two weeks. Two weeks without him. It seems so short, doesn’t it? Not to me it doesn’t. To me, I’ve spent ten years in those two weeks. I’ve ached, I’ve grown, I’ve learned, I’ve been angry, I’ve been weak( oh so weak), and I’ve cried…then I cried some more.

But I’ve realized something. I’ve been so unhappy, but I’ve not been un-joyful. In those two weeks, the outpouring of love showered upon me by friends and family alike has been marvelous. Some of the people who have been able to help me the most were even people that I barely knew before. In the words of one friend (I hope he won’t mind me quoting him…or rather misquoting him): “I would be a jerk to know you are suffering and not reach out to help.” Wow. We had barely even met before, and here he became one of my chief comforters.

I am so thankful for my family who reached out to me daily and wrote me encouraging notes. This meant so much to me, especially in the wake of losing the people who had come to be my “Virginia Beach family.” And then there are the girlfriends who fielded frantic, hysterical, midnight calls from me and were somehow able to talk me down. There has even been one friend who I now realize has been there for me in just about all of my toughest adult-life troubles. As our friendship has grown and matured, so has the love that I feel for him.

And here I sit, on the evening after my graduation, pondering the last two weeks of hell. I still cry, and I still feel lonely, but I can’t help but see all of the good that didn’t just appear because of my adversity; it was there all along, I just has been too caught up in life to really see it. Now it is magnified, and I can’t even count all of the true friends that I have or the real relationships that I have cultivated. In losing one person, I came to the realization that there are so many more relationships in my life that aren’t going to go away, so many people who will never simply give up and stop loving just because times get hard.

The simple fact that I had family and friends who not only took the time to make the four hour drive, spend the money for the weekend, but also brave the rain to simply watch me graduate tells me that there really are relationships out there that are strong enough to stand the strain, emotion, and drama that are simply…me. These people don’t just take me at my best, when I am shining and cheerful, but at my worst, when the tears stream down my face and I’m crying out for help.

If you have taken the time to actually read this syrupy dribble without closing the tab, then you must be among one of the people mentioned above and I would like to tell you that I count you among my choicest friends and relationships.

I love you. Goodnight.

Cornered

Today I didn’t go to church. I was too afraid to go there and run into him. So, I stayed home and walked to the park in my neighborhood to read my Bible. I felt so peaceful and happy there, until he came.

There is no place to escape him. He is everywhere. Our lives are so intertwined that no matter where I go or what I do in this big city, somehow, he turns up. I hate it.

He and his brothers and a friend ended up playing a game of volleyball just yards from where I was sitting. I tried to be brave and stay, but eventually I had to go.

What hurt the most was that I had spent the last five months with all four of those guys, and the only one who acknowledged my presence was Josh, Matt’s older brother.

I feel so conflicted. I wanted to talk to Matt, and I wanted to ignore him…yet it hurt that he ignored me. I love him, I hate him.

So, I left the park and walked to his house and rang the doorbell. I knew his parents would be the only ones there. They welcomed me in and we talked, I cried, they hugged and kissed me, like I was their daughter.

Then, when Matt came home, they sneaked me out the back door so that he wouldn’t see me.

So now…my heart cries out to God, asking, “Why did you put me here, in this neighborhood, in this job, at this church, at this school, all of it, in some way, tied to Matt or his family, if you were just going to end it all anyway?”

I don’t understand.

Cosmic Irony

It hasn’t even been a week since my relationship ended yet, I’m already experiencing stages of grief. I’ve had a pretty decent couple of days, well, as decent as can be expected when one is grieving. That is, until something happened today.

When I went to get the mail, there was a package waiting for me from a publishing company. I hadn’t submitted any manuscripts lately, so I was sure it couldn’t be anything about my writing. I took the package upstairs and opened it, hurriedly. Inside were two copies of the same book: Get Lost, by Dannah Gresh. I had never heard of it. On top of the books was a letter from the publishing company telling me that the books were a prize for a contest I had entered. Then, I remembered and instantly began to cry.

Quite a while ago, when things had still been good between Matt and me, I had seen an advertisement from an organization that I follow called “Project Inspired.” It is run by a young woman who has dedicated her life to helping girls accept themselves, see their true beauty, and find their identity in God. When I saw that they were asking girls to write their “true love story,” I thought, “I have a true love story. I should enter!” So, I did.

Well, I won. Somehow, my love story, my perfect love story, that not even a week ago crashed and burned, had won the contest. I bawled in my room over the painful irony.

Someone out there has it out for me, I swear. I keep thinking about that moment in The Little Rascals movie where Alfalfa looks up at the sky and says, “And the clouds opened up and God said, ‘I hate you, Alfalfa.” Yep. I was having one of those moments.

I couldn’t even revel in the fact that I had won the contest. All I could think about was how my wound had just barely begun to scab over, ever so slightly, only to have the Band-Aid ripped off all over again. My heart broke anew.

So, I took a walk, listened to Taylor Swift moan about her failed relationships, and felt commiseration with her. Then I returned to the house and picked up one of the books I had won. I figured that I might as well see what it had to say.

The book is all about how God is the only one who can fulfill our longing for love, and by “our,” I mean us ladies. Just a day or so ago, I had been talking to my mother on the phone and she said that it is natural to have this great desire for a man to love us. She says it comes right from Genesis, when Adam and Eve sinned and part of Eve’s punishment was that her “desire shall be for [her] husband” (3:16). Well, I had never thought about this before, but it seemed legit.

Then, as I was reading the first chapter of the book, the author wrote about this desire to be loved by a man, and called it “the craving.” She then went on to talk about the exact Bible verse that my mother had just mentioned to me.

A little voice inside of me said, “Darn it, Mom was right again.” But, I kept reading anyway. Not only did the book confirm the craving, but it began to talk about how that craving will continue to kill relationships until the woman learns to satisfy her need for love by turning to God.

I’ve always been told this was important, but it was never something that I had really stopped to think about before, or to even actually process what it meant. I honestly can’t say that I get it right now. But, maybe I’ll figure it out soon.

I can’t help but wonder at God’s hand in all of this. Did He specifically have me see that ad for that contest, just to have me enter it, win it, and receive the book just when He knew I would need it the most?

I don’t know…but I’ve seen Him do some crazy stuff before…

And he said..."I Just Stopped..."

So, yesterday the love of my life, the guy that I thought I was going to marry, told me he stopped loving me.

I hate to say it, but I didn’t see that coming. I mean, I had been preparing for the worst, but that wasn’t the way I thought things would go down. He had been distant and different for several weeks, but I thought he was frustrated because we had had a couple fights recently. I thought for sure that somehow, in some way, we would work things out. I at least  thought that if I threatened a separation, that he would tell me how much he loved me and that he still wanted to work things out.

Well, that didn’t happen. I honestly should have seen it coming, because he had been almost cruel lately. I wouldn’t wish his treatment on any girl. About a week and a half ago, someone very close to me lost her job, and a friend back home passed away, just within days of each other. And he never even hugged me or asked if I was okay.

That was so unlike him. He used to care so much. He used to want nothing more than to make sure I was safe, happy, and comfortable. I remember he used to always ask me if I was comfortable when we sat together and watched a movie. I would always say, “I’m alright.” And he would ask, “Alright? How can I make that better?”

This was not the man who I spent the last three weeks with. Somewhere along the line, he just stopped trying. I knew things were bad when he said he stopped pursuing me. Yet, even through all of that, for some reason, I still believed that he loved me. I have never in my life had that kind of faith in anyone. Ever.

I was so sure that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. We had been planning a wedding, before he backed out. He had pushed me towards that even when I thought it would be financially impossible. But no, he wanted me to have faith in him that we could pull it off together, so I put my trust in everything he said, and he changed his mind.

He changed his mind about everything. The worst part is that he stopped loving me. How do you change your mind about something like that? How do you just stop loving someone? I don’t understand. I can’t even wrap my mind around it. Every moment today when a fleeting thought about him would cross my mind, I was quickly reminded that I would spend the rest of my life without him, and suddenly my head began to swim dizzily. I’ve spend almost the entire day dizzy.

The idea of being without him forever hurts so bad. I put all of my trust in him, all of my love in him, just about everything I have, because I was convinced that he was the one. With every other guy I’ve dated before, I could hear God saying, “No, he’s not the one. Keep going. There is something more for you out there.” When I moved to Virginia Beach and met Matt, that voice was silenced. Suddenly I felt like I had arrived. I had found my “something more.” I stepped out in faith and put everything into that relationship.

And now…what do I have to show for it? Nothing. He took my entire heart with him, and I’m left with nothing. He had completed me, and now I’m missing a huge part of myself that I never knew was missing before him.

Tonight, I was weak. My mother and sister came to visit me, and on my way back from the hotel, I drove by the place where Matt works. I knew he would be closing up, but it was still early, so I was sure that he would still be cleaning up. For some reason, I just wanted to catch a glimpse of him.

Well, that was a bad idea. He must have been able to close up early, because he was standing outside with a coworker, and he looked right at me as I drove by. He then got in his car and followed me. Although I drove as fast as I could, he followed me home. That is the downside to living in the same neighborhood. There is really no escaping each other. And in the morning, I have to go to work and face his father: my coworker. And on Sunday, I have to dodge his family at church. And at school, I have to look out for when he comes out of class and I am heading to class.

I keep asking myself, “why would God take me here and allow my life to be so intertwined with Matt’s, if he was just going to separate us?” My mom was the only one who could answer this question in any way that made me feel a little bit better. She said that she believes that God has a plan for each of our lives. His plan is the best for our lives. However, we have freewill, a beautiful and disastrous thing. Sometimes we can go against God’s will and choose second best for our lives, something that is “good” but not “great,” and certainly not God’s “best.” I had been so sure that Matt was the man God wanted me to be with, but now he is gone. Mom tells me that she thinks that Matt and I could have been meant for each other, but Matt chose a different path.

This explanation, whether it is true or not on the other side of heaven, at least makes me feel like I wasn’t so stupid. At least I can feel like I did the right things. I loved Matt utterly and completely, as I never believed that I could love any man. I gave him my all, and when there were issues, I wanted to work on them, and improve our relationship. Matt ran and hid.

When he broke it off, I made sure that he understood that this was his choice, not mine. Even so, I can’t be loved half way. I want to be love fully, and call me crazy, but I think it’s what I deserve.