So, I have been sitting here for roughly 40 minutes picking and choosing a piece to put on here, yet none of them seem "finished" or "appropriate". Again, I refer you to my first entry- anyone see a fear of failure or judgment in not finding a piece suitable to post? Anyways, I found this one that was written during a time of pretty raw emotion. Actually, let's not sugarcoat it- I was downright depressed when I wrote this. So I decided there is probably no better way to overcome this fear than to put a very personal piece on here. But I think there are some redeeming qualities, so hopefully it won't be too much of a Debbie Downer :). This selection is in reference to the experience of facing my own self-centeredness. Ironic, right?
There it was. That great ache in my body that penetrated deep down into my bones. It was a kind of pseudo-depression that threatened to break free with even the slightest prompting. I liken it to what I hear women who are pregnant experience; when you feel the urge to cry for no specific reason and not sure if you can handle any external negativity. My eyes felt heavy and confused, my mind cloudy and unsure. Even the length of my stride seemed to shorten in fear that it might get ahead of itself. But He was there, in that overwhelming, ‘I-can’t-deal-with-you-now’, kind of presence. The last thing I felt I needed was some perfectly Supreme being lording his righteousness over me. After a while, I realized that she was there too. It had been a while since I had seen her, but across the room, in a murky shadow by the window, she sat with her back to me. And then I knew that it would be a while..
It would have been wonderful to turn and run for the door; don’t think I didn’t try it. But there is only so far you can run when you know what the right thing is. So we sat and talked. First I talked to Him. I told him that I was afraid. No, I was petrified of being alone. And of being forgotten. Then the tears started. I didn’t even know why I was crying! But I was- giant, wet, full tears that seemed to get heavier and faster as I spoke. He asked me why, and I replied ‘because I’m a wreck’ somewhat sarcastically. Apparently she felt this was a good time to interject. In the overbearing way that came too naturally to her, she barged in to explain why I wasn’t a mess and why I had every right to do what I wanted, in the timing that I wanted. There was an anger in her voice that seemed so raw, but so scared at the same time. He listened patiently as she pleaded her case, and then turned his attention back to me. ‘Why do you fear being forgotten?’ he gently inquired. My response was slow and deliberate, if a bit shameful: ‘because I am proud, and I need to be the center of attention with a lot more people than I realize. I need to feel their validation by being their topic of conversation.’ And then it made a little more sense. How could a single wedding send me into such a tailspin? Because I would not be the focus of conversation among people whom I need to be validated by. Someone else might be seen as prettier than I am. Someone else may be perceived as more worthy of love from their boyfriend. Someone else would be sharing all of the wonderful things happening in their life that weren’t happening in mine. And someone else would be the center of attention. I suddenly felt sick. When did I get this self-absorbed when I thought I was making progress? Interrupting my thoughts was the shrill voice of an indignant girl: ‘It’s not your fault! You can’t help how you feel…it just is what it is. Stop caring so much about fixing it!’ I tried to be patient as He had been with her, but I couldn’t. I felt my own humility slipping away, and that deep, agonizing depression-anger taking its place.
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