Let's face it.
Life really sucks sometimes.
You ever have those days where your whole world and everything you know to be true falls apart and you climb in bed, exhausted, and say "It's gonna be ok...tomorrow is a new day. It can only get better."
False.
It can, in fact, get worse.
And sometimes...those days turn into weeks.
Months.
And before you know it, it seems like your life is turning out to be one of those...lives.
Oops.
Well, that's kind of how I've been feeling lately. Since coming home from school, it's almost as if everything in my life is slowly disintegrating; my ambitions, my excitement, my passions, my friendships...little by little, the threads of who I am seem to be unraveling, and I have no idea what to do about it.
I don't want to live in the past. But I feel like I don't really have a future right now.
I was already struggling with not being at Bryan this semester. It was hard enough to have to sit at home and wonder why I haven't heard back from any job applications while all of my friends are in school and with each other every single day.
Add some spiritual conviction and I'm not only missing school but I'm aching to feel closer to the Lord, which always seemed easier in the Grassy Bowl or at a picnic table by the volleyball courts.
Then, out of nowhere, I was completely slammed by a relational hurricane. It stripped me of my confidence, my hope and left me utterly exposed to the elements of heartache in a way that was unlike anything I'd experienced before. I had never felt more alone and vulnerable than I did at that moment, and what I wanted above all was to be surrounded by people that I trusted and that I knew loved me.
Which I was, in a few days. I went to visit Bryan for the weekend, and it was wonderful to be around friends. But it was also one of the most draining weekends because I was forced to face my pain and loneliness head on. I had to try to take what was left inside of me and somehow create beauty again.
And I tried. I really have tried.
But that's not all.
Yesterday I was crumpled in a ball, overwhelmed with the worst physical pain I have ever felt. I knew something was wrong; I did not feel right. Today I went to the doctor, had an ultrasound done. Turns out I have a cyst on my ovary. No big deal, lots of women get them, says the doctor. It'll go away, says mom. No need to panic, says everyone.
Ok, fine.
But you see, I reached my quota for "keep calm and carry on" about 2 weeks ago.
I can't stay calm anymore, says me. It's just not going to happen, screams me.
I'm at my breaking point. Life just isn't nice right now, and I'm tired.
This isn't going to be one of my usual posts, where I go on about some issue in my life and by the time the last paragraph rolls around, I've had some kind of breakthrough and can happily conclude and go on my merry way.
Because I don't have peace right now. I don't have assurance. I don't feel like everything will be ok.
It. Is. Not. OK. Right. Now.
I am not OK.
***
Don't get me wrong. I have friends that have been invaluable to me during this time. They let me vent, they hold me while I cry, they make me laugh so I can momentarily forget about everything...and they give me advice. Last night, one of my friends said something that I know will greatly encourage me one day. They said,
"You hope, Lex. You see something and see what it can become. To have hope and see potential beauty is a great gift. But there are sometimes...that people don't see the beauty and potential you can...so don't feel dumb or shameful about all that's happened. Just don't let this kill your ability to have hope and see potential beauty."
I don't want to lose that ability. But it's pretty shaky right now. I don't feel hopeful about anything...especially myself. I don't see beauty in much...especially myself. The potential of a brighter tomorrow sounds about as appealing as when Annie sings it. Not very.
I have no idea why all of this has piled up into one huge glob of struggle. I don't know what I'm supposed to get out of the loneliness, grief and confusion. Right now I've got nothing.
There's no brilliant conclusion to this. Not this time.
I am not okay, and it is okay to not be okay.
No comments:
Post a Comment