The Pattern

Tonight I am tired. No, no, not sleepy. God forbid I lay my head on the pillow and peacefully drift off at a reasonable hour. It's been ages since I can remember that happening. No, this is an exhaustion of a completely different kind. The kind that comes from a circumstance or moment revealing a pattern in yourself you've never fully seen before. Not the good kind of pattern you'd find on your favorite pair of bold printed palazzo pants, but the kind of pattern you cringe at and tuck away in the back of your closet hoping to never see again.
What's most tiring is the fact that it's MY pattern. Taken as individual events these things could be seen as unfair. Unjust. Hurtful. But as a combined unit, they're not things that have happened TO me. Rather they are habits I've acquired and fallen into despite possessing the knowledge things would most likely end as they have now. Relational habits. The Worst Sort. Rather than re-play the conversations I shoulda, coulda, woulda had in my head a million times over - I come here. To this haven of internet safety, obscure enough that no one of consequence (no offense) will see but with a finality that only hitting the "publish" button and sending my musings somewhere can bring.

What is this pattern you may ask? Friendship. Nothing wrong with friendship!! But using friendship as a shield to keep people at an arm's length is. Time and time again, I see now, I have let men in my life fill a void that wasn't theirs to fill. I'm a very rational person. I've found that rational people can talk themselves out of relationships EVERY TIME. There is always some reason to be found to prove it's inadvisable. So I avoid the confrontation which I'm sure will only result in "it would never work" by making sure it's known that friendship is the only thing on the table. The problem is, "the table" doesn't take into account emotions and feelings and attachment. Neither do I usually, until it's too late (Joni Mitchell knows what she is talking about). So I become accustomed to these friendships which are emotionally more involved but never ask for or give the true commitment they deserve. I constantly revisit those "rational reasons" and deflect curiosity with pre-rehearsed excuses. Until it's gone. The thing I seem to forget is that it will ALWAYS end up gone. The reason I am drawn to these relationships is because these are quality people. Men of moral fiber, great humor, and a hundred other attractive qualities. Men like these do not stay single for very long. They do not spend their lives in a half-fulfilling friendship with one woman when there are emotionally healthier women lining up at their door. When that day comes, yes, our "friendship" still stands. But it must be totally re-defined. Understandably. Obviously. Good for him! He's got a new gal whose texts he can look forward to, who will come over and make pancakes for dinner, who will get to laugh at the ridiculous and scoff at the unjust alongside him. Except this one will hold his hand, kiss him goodnight, and be entitled to be the girl always at his side.

The problem with patterns is, when you finally see them, the sting of the most recent re-occurrence is colored by all those that came before. Once again, I'm lying here feeling left-behind. Not just by this one person, but by many. It's never been the other way round. I've yet to be brave enough to CHOOSE someone. To stop searching for the reasons it won't work. As such, when these moments come, it's never my moment to be made. Instead I always seem to be the last to know. This may sting the most. I've never been told, "hey, I'm kind of talking to this girl so if you don't hear from me as much, that's probably why." Instead I'm left to wonder why my texts have gone unresponded, why I'm sending twice as many snapchats, why I'm feeling disconnected and out of touch. When I finally do find out it's because somebody else says something or, the worst, the facebook picture that makes it all fall into place. In that moment, today, the pattern became crystal clear. In that moment, I felt like a fool. I looked at myself from the outside and felt sorry for the girl who couldn't catch the hint. My pride was so injured, this friendship went from something I counted on daily to something I was embarrassed by. How could I have been so stupid? What did I think was going to happen/happening?

I am not saying that this was the man I was meant to be in a relationship with. The pattern is not even about being "left behind.." Tonight I am tired of not letting myself take risks. To acknowledge an emotional intimacy and call it for what it is. Pursue it or not - but not let it masquerade as something it isn't. If there are reasons it cannot work, be brave enough to speak them. If there are fears, be brave enough to share them. I think of all the things I could have said, all the opportunities to be truly open that I passed up, and I'm ashamed. What sort of friendship could it have been if I didn't care enough to not only talk about my feelings, but be willing to listen to his? I think of all the times I deflected the conversation when I felt it going down a road I was too scared to explore. How hurtful that must have been. It's too late to apologize, maybe someday if life brings us a chance to be open with each other again I'll have my chance. I can forgive myself, however, and do everything in my power to end this pattern here. Instead of letting the weight of the "what if?" hang over my head I can choose to focus on the "what now?" How do I move forward to avoid being in this place again? The hard thing to accept is that, ultimately, it will be lonely. I will feel the lack of this person, this role being filled in my life. It seems silly to mourn a relationship I haven't "technically" lost but I'm afraid this is the only kind of break-up I've ever really known, so I think I'm entitled to be slightly dramatic. Especially if the sadness can lead to a better understanding of myself. I do understand, I see now, that I've been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

The funny part is, I don't really believe in that round hole. I am a complete person, as a single unit, because I am a child of a very loving God. His gift of grace is not contingent on me finding a husband. If I sought His favor and glory rather than looked to someone here to validate my worth, I might be fast asleep without any of this heaviness of heart right now. In His mercy however, He allows me to stumble and fall. It's possible that someday I may find myself in a relationship, sharing my life with another person. It's also possible that isn't what's meant for me. The stumbles I've had so far have taught me that the one thing I don't get is to have it halfway. The reason it ends this way is because God Himself does not love in halves, and any relationship here on earth should reflect His love for us. If I have a guy friend and TRULY loved Him with the heart of Christ, I would speak honestly to him and either hold him at the distance of a friend or move forward with him as more.

Easier said than done. My hope is that, having formulated my thoughts and confronted this pattern, I can avoid it in the future. Spot it when I start to slip. Choose to be brave instead.

But most of all, I hope I can fall asleep.

Cyberspace Wanderlust

Tonight has been full of internet wanderings.
It started with a walk down memory lane, re-reading old messages between my french pen pal and myself. It's been, gosh, two years-ish since we last messaged each other anything of consequence. As I went further and further back I was amazed at the frequency and intimacy of our messages over the years. I had forgotten what a huge part of my life this person across the world was for awhile. What a tangible dream he had seemed to be. I couldn't help but playing the "what if" game as I continued reading further and further back. "What if" I had gone to visit him? "What if" I had invited him here, helped pay for tickets even? But eventually I stopped, and was able to stop "what iffing" and instead think "how lucky" I was, to have had him for awhile. Our messages were most frequent during some of the hardest transitions in my life. I had a distant friend caring for me, cheering me on, giving me something to look forward to every time I logged onto my computer. I wouldn't trade that for anything.

My musings somehow led me to a new friend's blog. Y'know how that happens, you click on one thing which leads you to another and another and then suddenly you're reading a blog you most surely were never meant to see. This friend has been going through a tough break up and I most definitely found his outlet for venting his anger, directed toward his ex and meant to be swallowed into the abysmal void that is the blog world. Lost in a sea of white noise, young adults getting things "out" that no one really wants or needs to hear, but will fester if not released in some way. But sometimes, these things are found. Not by some anonymous blog-reader, but by a friend who cares and who reads each pained word with sympathy and care, wanting to understand how better to be there for you. In the end is a realization that there is no "better" way. I'll do my best and still, that blog is there. There will be moments when that blog is all the friend you need. The outlet that won't return sympathy, judgement, caring, anger. Just the silence of your own words staring back at you, a chance to say the things you can't say to the person you want. Never knowing if they will or won't see them, but feeling like they've been said.

Which led me here. To re-read my own words that at some point, were worth saying. Few and far between, cryptic to most, they hold such value. Because they represent my heart at it's various stages of life thus far, bursting at times and needing a place to be "heard." Sometimes out of joy, other times confusion, even now and then from pain. I cringe at some things, but there is even value in the cringe-worthy. To see where I've been and what I've felt, knowing where I've come, wondering where I'm going. Here is a place, of very little consequence to most people, where I get to leave it all.
My little bit of white noise.

Something old and something new

As I drove home tonight through a very dense fog, watching the world pass dreamily by as I got closer and closer to home, I was vaguely reminded of my second ever blog post. Revisiting it I am amazed how some of the same thoughts about the fog passed through my mind now, over 4 years later. It's nice to know that some things don't have to change...

"National City is covered in a thick fog. Driving home from my very first bachelorette party, I couldn't help but find my city appealing. Normally a den of sex offenders and drug dealers, the streets looked relatively peaceful and inviting. This isn't surprising considering the fact that fog makes everything dreamy. One of the best things were the distinctive beams of light coming from the front of my car. The first image that came to mind as I drove home was that there were two large white lightsabers attached to the front of my car. As I turned a corner and my lights passed over a couple making out (normally skanky, tonight, thanks to the fog, romantic) I imagined they were chopped in half by my sabers. Right through the waist. 
Then the fog took my imagination down a different path. Suddenly, the idea of going for a jog was very appealing. Now, I'm not dim enough to think a jog through National City at 12:30 am is a good idea. But maybe, I thought, getting up just before sunrise, driving somewhere joggable like a beach or park, it might still be foggy and I could go for a run then. I found myself imagining that as a daily occurence, practically planning on it. I don't like running. I don't like getting up early. And I especially don't like doing those things when there is potential that I will have to do them at an hour when it is still dark and cold. But even now, as I type this and the reality sinks in, it still sounds appealing. I've come to realize that fog is a magical thing. Don't underestimate it's ability to alter your state of mind. Possibly even your whole world. And have fun chopping things in half with your lightsabers."

C.S. Lewis said...

... "If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world."

Is that what I'm feeling? Is that what this unrest and burden on my heart is? Am I not truly seeking my eternity? I thought that moving home was a step forward in the Lord's plan for my life, but instead I feel further from being in communion with Him. I don't know how to relate where the Lord was taking me in Orlando to where I am here. I can't start over here because in many ways I have certain foundations already established. But I can't relate to those connections the same ways I once did, and don't necessarily know if I want to. I don't belong in the new communities that define the lives of some of those close to me, but am not sure I have the strength to breakaway and find a new community of my own. Or even what that would begin to look like. Looking at that quote above though, I am so torn. In some ways, it terrifies me. When I consider my discontent to be proportional to my heart's efforts to seek the Lord, I am overwhelmed with how far I am falling short. But it also comforts me, that this aimless wanderlust I feel isn't because I am in the wrong place, but simply the Lord trying to dissatisfy me with anything that is not of Him. If I could truly set aside myself, my pride, my walls, my fears, my insecurities, my plans, my expectations....wouldn't I find the peace I so desperately crave no matter where I am? Would I finally be able to sit and just be? My heart weighs a thousand pounds these days, my worries grow each day...that's not eternity. The Lord has promised that if I am truly in a relationship with Him, it won't be an easy walk, it will still be filled with struggle, but it will be more than worth it as eternity begins to manifest itself here on earth.

I speculate. I wonder. When really I should just pray. Without that there will be no revelations or answers or peace. This crushing weight on my chest will continue to grow as it has been, the lump in my throat will get harder and harder to swallow, the walls around my heart will get more and more impenetrable, the tougher it will be to get out of bed in the mornings. Prayer and the Word. The Word and Prayer. Pray the Word and Word the Prayer.

Insomnia continues...

The past three nights have found me in the exact same mental state as 2 am rolls around.....thinking about Paris. Tonight I indulged it even more by opening my computer and looking through all my pictures from in/around Paris. I could cry I want to be there so badly. I don't know what the city has for me at this point, or what I have to offer it, but the ache to be there is reason enough for me. My mastery of the french language is severely diminished, I no longer hear from "the dream" that was my Parisian pen pal and soul mate, and I don't necessarily desire to work for the same company that took me there the first time around. But to wander the streets of Père Lachaise again, scan the bookshelves at Shakespeare and Company, walk the steps of Montmartre, go to mass at Notre Dame....what I wouldn't give. The idea of a visit isn't enough though, I'd almost rather not. Knowing I only had a short time there, every moment spent would be tainted. I'd start missing it the moment I arrived. I wish it weren't so, but I'm honest enough to admit that it would. That wouldn't be enough to keep me away though. I'm far too much of an emotional masochist not to in some way enjoy the torture. Maybe that's what makes Paris so beautiful to me....it's not mine to keep.

Into the West

I can't sleep. At night. I could sleep all day though, which I know is both a symptom and a cause. It's just that the minute I lay down, my thoughts go into overdrive. What ifs, what could be, will be, was. Relive old hurts, old joys, wonder where I belong in certain hearts. I can't decide which is worse, the awake or the asleep. At least when I am awake I have the freedom to tell truth from fiction. My dreams don't allow such differentiation. In them I am often convinced of where I am, who I am with. It's not the regrets I relive that hurt the most. It's the dreams when I believe I am back in a happy moment, with the people I miss the most, being loved the way I want to be loved. To wake up and find it was nothing more than a wish...these are the reasons I lie here awake. At least this way I can know when I'm lying to myself....

I've recently discovered that every morning I should look through the notebook I keep by my bed. On more than one occasion I've been surprised to find a new entry that wasn't there before I went to bed. Either I have philosophical elves writing their musings down while I sleep, or in my restless hours I sleepily scribble down thoughts I have no recollection of the next morning. Because I can't remember writing them, I'm trying to decide how I define them. I'm torn between thinking that I'm trying way too hard to be poetic and deep or that I couldn't have possibly been, and considering their birth from a sleepy and well-meaning place, they actually ARE poetic, in a very innocent way. Considering that I usually find "to-do" lists mixed in with them, I'm thinking it may be the latter. Who spills their heart on the same page as their grocery list?

An example of my late-night journal mumblings:

"The thing about your heart is, once you've given part away, you can never get it back. You can grow it back, this isn't to say your heart won't ever be whole again. Just remember that it will take time, and it probably won't look quite the same as it did before. That part you've given is a totally unique bit that now belongs to someone else, so before you give it away, be careful. Make sure they're worthy"

"Time flies..."

...you know the rest.

Tonight has been a really good night for retrospection. A candlelit bath time really provides ample opportunity to look backwards as well as forwards, marvel at what has been, what is, and what may be to come.
I'm not quite sure exactly how I've gotten where I am today. To be completely honest, it's not the best place. Or rather, it's not what I expected but I sense I'm in that all important moment where I'm choosing what to make of where I've landed. I've lost some things, yes. Mostly just a few dreams I've had to let go of. But the important things (though at times I may lose sight of them), they will always be there. It's just a matter of setting my eyes upon them.
I've also been given unexpected gifts. That happens every day, I am the daughter of a very generous God, but these gifts I'm speaking of are the kind that were not only unexpected, but so new and foreign to me I don't know what to do with them. It's easy to look at these new things and allow myself to place them in the "new and scary; let's not" category, but I'm working to move forward despite that.
Moving forward. The ever daunting task. This is the hardest of all. Looking back, though not always pleasant, is familiar. Looking forward, however, is so unknown it's often easier to avoid completely. Are there signs here leading my way? Do I just need to properly interpret them? Or I am meant to make this decision on my own, in faith that wherever I go the Lord will be there to make use of me where I land? When I think of some of the desires I had that now seem to be unfeasible vs. the things around me I could potentially choose to pursue that I never planned, I'm left completely at a loss. When life can change so quickly, how can I be expected to decide now what I'll be doing later?
I'm starting to understand Joni Mitchell's "Both sides now," far more than I ever have.