I want to be so sold out for God that there is no questioning who and what He is to me.
Instead, I keep remembering that April 19th 2005 I was told that if I was going to continue to struggle with cutting, I might as well kill myself. April 24th 2005 I was told that I was worthless and a waste of everyone's time. April 24th I made cuts, deep cuts, on my wrists. I sat there, a moment of realization. I could get help or I could die. What's on the other side? What's out there that is more than this? What does life have for me? I chose life. I remember that night. I won't give anymore details. I don't want to hurt anyone with what happened afterwards because it doesn't show the true character of all those involved.
Three years later? I still struggle with feeling like I'm worthless and a waste of everyone's time. I fumble. I stumble. I get in everyone's way.
June 1st? I'm going to be at PVM. June 1st I am going to be a spiritual leader. I am horrified. Right now, right in this very second I am more tired than I think I have ever been. I am exhausted. I am tired of running from this. I want to face my past. I want to embrace it. Instead, every time I get pushed in the wrong way, I hit the ground running. Today I walked and walked and walked and walked until I couldn't feel my legs. Then I stood with a group that I shouldn't have felt so disconnected from. I felt like forcing jigsaw pieces together that were from different boxes. Funny what time does to people.
I tried writing at the lake and my words got swallowed by this monster inside of me. He is hungry and wants all of this inside, bubbling, boiling, breaking me.
I played rock band for hours. Lost in beats and laughter and headaches of off key singing and missing the beats repeatedly. But, ultimately, I feel false, phony.
I keep pretending that I'm okay. I'm not okay. Not right now.
But Jesus promised me rest. I will embrace that. He promised a light yoke. I will take it. God promised to hold my right hand. He is.
I just want to be better. Really better.