Soemtimes, I think I'm going crazy. Life on this side of the tracks makes me wonder if others might think I have gone off the deep end as well. Who is that girl, who once we smoked with, got drunk with, who is now going to church on wednesdays and even attempting to join the choir? What's worse, is I don't even know the difference sometimes between my own opinions of what is right and what is wrong. I feel crazy.
The internal monologues of my head are awful, often leaving me feeling angry, disturbed, unhappy, incredulous, doubtful, remorseful, you name it. Until I re-stumbled upon a book today, thus leading to a revelation, the greatest works (for me) have been those that spoke loudly to honesty. To what is really going on. I could sit here and try to write what a good Christian would write, something uplifting (I think) and inspirational. Something final and absolute, leaving no doubt in the reader as to where my loyalties lie. But, see that there is the reason I feel like my thought today has been a break through. What I love about my religion, about God, is that I can be myself and that is what He wants. I feel like this is the crazy for those on the opposite end of the spectrum. What do I mean, what He wants? I mean that I believe there is a God and that I get to have a relationship with Him. Do you see how awesome this is? I get to have an intimate relationship with the one who created the Earth, who knows everything, who is able and willing to answer all of my prayers and who still loves me no matter my inflictions or bursts of unreasonable anger? Well, that realization has made all the difference to me. I can go to bed now and feel comforted. Maybe, to some, that seems easy. But, the point is, I no longer care what "most" think. In fact, I am actually returning to this frame of mind, after being somewhat derided over the course of my stint at "University." Now, the writing part that poses a problem for me is the absolute, brutal honesty of the representation of the facts of my life. Not easy. Not pretty. Not even remotely proud of what I should be and too many memories of being proud of what I absolutely should not have been proud of. Confusing. Years of confusion. Once again, to be clear, why do I love God? Because He is the reason I am working through my confusion. To answer a question that perhaps, but doubtfully lingers in my mind, why was I so confused when it seems that most everyone else has there stuff all figured out? Because those people have found a way of organizing their thoughts, of claiming their own meaning in an otherwise out-of-sorts, flat out backwards civilization. I applaud them, even wanted to be that way myself. I hope this isn't pre-mature and presumptuous, but I even feel like I might be getting there. Not completely focused, knowing exactly where I'm headed with a five-year plan posted to my bedroom wall or anything, but a little less muddied, a little more illuminated, a little less clutter causing me to become disoriented.
Like everything else in life, I saw the signs. The signs were there rather and in hindsight, I can see them clearly. I honestly don't know what happened, I guess the why is becoming the less important of those seemingly endless list of questions. What I want to know is what. What can I do now to avoid falling into those places again? How can I avoid believing that my life isn't really better off now than it was then? As I write this I feel like I keep needing to justify the fact that not everyone will be able to relate to my experiences and I need that to be okay. If you don't know, haven't been through a pretty similar circumstance, you are never going to get it. Really though, how often does a reader fully comprehend the author's intent?
I'll go on. You know what I said to myself when I woke up this morning? Well, first I was actually pretty happy to be awake. I saw the sun coming in, realized it was still early and that I had had a comfortable night's sleep. I was experiencing joy and I loved it. Came to a complete halt as I scoped the girl staring back at me in the bathroom mirror. Seriously? That's how I look!?! I knew I should have straightened my hair before falling asleep last night. Instead I wake up to some frizzy-haired, hay feeling tumble on top of my head with the unmentionable mistake of bangs going any which way they please. Awful. But then, because a feeling that negative just won't do, not when I woke up determined to enjoy my day, I said, "Hey, at least you don't smoke anymore." Such a bizarre comment it actually caught me off guard. I thought for a moment about the implications and I had to subtly agree. I don't and that means that the dry skin and wrinkles near my mouth from the all familiar pucker aren't getting any worse. I know, this isn't pretty. Plus, it implied a greater sense of control, a coming to terms with what I saw reflecting back at me. Who am I to criticize the image in the mirror? I moved on.
That's one of the most inconspicuous forms of attack though, self-defeat. No matter how many good things go on in the day, I can come back to what I hate, what I do wrong, what I will never do right. I know they are all lies, I know I can get pass them, it only is a matter of time. I can't wait. That's why I started to write again, like this, because something about seeing my ideas on paper makes me realize how silly they all are. Not the writing part, but the deprecation. Really, this is what you spend your time thinking about? How silly! Not always though. I do my variety of thought poking, a little here, a little there, a few "A-ha" moments and even a few "You go girl!" (Yes, as a 24 year old, I still say that). What was my most reason train of thoughts? I was thinking about making dinner, I got hungry in the process so I had a bite-size 3 Musketeer and then a fun-size bag of mnms. I absolutely dislike mnms so the only way to make them edible is obviously over a spoon of peanut butter. I felt guilty for that one so decided the best course of action would be to counter all of this with a banana. Now I am left feeling extremely full and not wanting to step foot in the kitchen. All I want to do is take my dog on a walk so she'll stop bothering me, but the guy I always see was on his way there (saw him on my way home from work) and I really am not in the mood for talking. So, what do I do now? I'm also supposed to be leaving for church in an hour. God, please help me. I'm going for a walk...
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