Life As an Afterschool Special

It has been a year.

One year.

I know I wrote last week about how hard everything is.. and sometimes it IS still really hard. I still am really angry, and I am still learning how to deal with the emotions and consequences of everything that happened the past year.

There have so many times this year that I have been brought to my knees in tears and thrown my hands up at God and told him this was all too hard, too much.

There has been so many times this year that I could only focus on the next minute, the next hour, because tommorow seemed so hard and so far away.

There were so many times this year when I didnt think I could handle the pain, or the fear, or the anger.

But I am.

I am strong.

I am brave.

I am not just surviving. I am thriving. I am growing. I am changing.

I am overcoming.

And it isnt easy.

And I know that may seem completely contridictory to what I wrote last week. And somedays I still cry and some days I still throw my hands up at God and say it is too hard and too much.

But I am overcoming.

And I will overcome.

A good friend recently sent me a mixed cd.

He is one of the few people who really really knows me… both when I am silly and flirty and fun and messy and complicated and angry. He is the kind of friend I have been through the fire with… and because of that I appriciate his friendship greatly.

I have been listening to one of the songs on the CD over and over the past few weeks, and even though it is super cheesy, it reminds me that there are so many people that believe in me and hope for me and love me, that I am not alone, and that the best is yet to come… if I just wait

If ever you are feeling like youre tired
And all your uphill struggles leave you headed downhill
If you realize your wildest dreams can hurt you
And your appetite for pain has drinken its fill

I ask of you a very simple question
Did you think for one minute that you are alone
And is your suffering a privilege you share only
Or did you think that everybody else feels completely at home

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If you think Ive given up on you youre crazy
And if you think I dont love you well then youre just wrong
In time you just might take to feeling better
Time is the beauty of the road being long

I know that now you feel no consolation
But maybe if I told you and informed you out loud
I say this without fear of hesitation
I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come
Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If anything I might have just said has helped you
If anything I might have just said helped you just carry on
Your rise uphill may no longer seem a struggle
And your appetite for pain may all but be gone

I hope for you and cannot stop at hoping
Until that smile has once again returned to your face
Theres no such thing as a failure who keeps trying
Coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

Just Wait~ Blues Traveler

Thank you to thoes who gave your love, and your strength, and your time, and your friendship the past year… I am because of you. I love you.

I don’t know why I always run
is it fear of the fall or fear of the touch
And I don’t know where the angels sleep

And I don’t know how to really love
I’ve never stood still long enough
And I don’t know where the angels sleep

But I am alive and standing strong
I’m no farther forward, just farther along
I hold on to my pride and dig in deep
It’s pulling me down, and I am no closer to release
And I don’t know where the angels sleep

I don’t know how to see you now
The friend from before is different somehow
And I don’t know where the angels sleep

And I don’t know when I’ll love again
But I don’t trust myself to just let you in
And I don’t know where the angels sleep

It’s taken ten thousand days
To get stuck in my ways
And it offers no grace
I cannot stand this place
With love in my face
I walk away slowly

I don’t know where the angels sleep
No, I don’t know where the angels sleep

~Bebo Norman Where the Angels Sleep

I have been very light-hearted in my posts as of late… but right now my mind is full and my heart is heavy and I NEED to write.

This may all come out as a ramble, but i need what is happening in my heart and in my head to make sense… to become black and white, to fit into words and sentences that I can hold to.

Right now it is all just too much.

I want to crawl in a black hole and shut the world out. I want to recoil into myself and not allow anyone near… Not allow anyone in. Not that I think that very many people want to be near. But I just want to shut out everyone and everything that may hurt me or use me.

I am so upset my hands are shaking as I type this.

I met to my pay-a-friend at lunch today. Our 30 minute session lasted 50 minutes. And I only left because I was upset and had to go back to work.So now I am sitting at work shaking and upset and trying so very hard to tell myself I am fine and be cheerful and friendly to people who walk by and call, and to not burst into tears. My last two counseling sessions have been miserable…
I have decided I don’t like my counselor. I HAVE liked her for the past seven months…. But now I don’t.

On June 8th it will be one year since he attacked me.

I think it is strange how much that date means to me… how significant it is in my life. But my counselor says that is very normal… it’s an anniversary of a death of a sort, and it natural and important to grieve it. But she also says it’s the anniversary of a new beginning, and it natural and important to celebrate it.

One year since my ex fiancée attacked me.

Its almost funny to me that I still say nice phrases like “attacked me” and “assaulted” me when speaking of the night. I talked with my counselor about that today… about how “that” word sticks in my throat and is so so hard for me to say even now.

We talked about the details of what happened that day…

I HATE talking about details…

When I was still in Columbus my counselor had me write out what happened that night and how I felt as it was happening and as I wrote it. It was so hard to do, and after I was done I read it aloud to my counselor, to Katie, and to Erica and Amy, and then I never read it again. I have let other people read it, but I don’t.

Because I would rather NOT remember.

It makes me sad, and it makes me angry. And I think that is NORMAL and FINE. My counselor thinks I still put things in my box. She thinks that I haven’t dealt fully with my emotions, and specifically I haven’t dealt with my anger. She said we need to talk about what has happened more specifically, so I can see how I lost control and then see how I took it back. She thinks it is empowering. I think it is horrible and hard. She said I need to allow myself to get angry.

I told her I don’t want to get angry. I want to get BETTER. She said I have to get angry in order to get better. That I can’t be afraid of my own emotion or hurt or anger.

But I am.

There is a hurt that is so deep that you think you will never ever heal. There is a grief that washes over you in tidal waves. There is anger so real and so raw you think it may consume you.

It isn’t even anger… it rage. It is consuming and horrible and I hate feeling this way.

I try so very hard to move on, to forget, to heal. I don’t know what more to do. I moved away, I took back control, I opened up to my closest friends, and I found a counselor and have continued to go at least once a week for the past 10 months.

But I don’t know how to deal with my anger.

It’s too much.

And I don’t want people to look at me and think I shouldn’t feel this way, or that I am being overdramatic.

I don’t know how to trust anyone enough to let them in.

Most people don’t know that when my ex fiancée was younger he tried to kill someone.

He and another friend beat this man up and tied him to a chair and whipped him with electrical cords. Then they poured gasoline on him and tried to catch him on fire, but the match didn’t light and they got caught. He was arrested and charged with attempted murder, which got pleaded down to aggregated assault.

He said he changed, and I wanted to trust him… but when he got angry and said he would kill me… I believed him. I really did think he would kill me. I still do.

Most people don’t know that.

Most people don’t know how he would get angry with me, and push me, and shake me, and pin me in corners and hit me, and then blame me for making him angry.

Most people don’t know that on more than one occasion I made me mad enough to choke me, and his fingers closed around my throat and I clawed at his arms and when he finally let go I had little bruises where he fingers had pressed hard into my skin.

Most people don’t know about how he would look at me with such anger and hate in his eyes and tell me that I was stupid, and ugly, and hard to put up with, and hard to love. And I would feel so unlovable, and so horrible, and so ashamed.

Most people don’t know how when I wanted to leave he would yell and threaten me, or he would turn and say he loves me, and no one would ever love me the way he did, and that God had a plan for us, and God said we were supposed to be together.

Most people don’t know how he would come to my house and use the hidden key to get in, and how when we hid the key he would pound on my door and scream at me and threaten me.

Most people don’t know that when I was in Minneapolis I would have to call Brian or Tim, or even the police crying, and ask them to come to my house at 2 am because Matt was outside and I was afraid, and I really thought he would hurt me.

And most people don’t know that even after I went to Ohio and broke off my engagement and even after he attacked me he would still come to house and terrorize me. And I would stay after night at my parents house or I would call the police and I would call Lisa and Brian and Steve and Amy and my sister, and they would come over and stay with me and stay up late and sleep on the floor because I was so afraid.

I still am afraid.

Most people don’t know fear like that.

But I do.

I know what its like to lie in bed and imagine every sound and every shadow is someone coming to hurt you. And how you can’t even convince yourself that it isn’t true because the reality is that it could be true. The reality is he has hurt you, in the worst imaginable way.

I know what it’s like to replay those awful images in your head again and again and relive them over and over every time you shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.

And it makes me ANGRY.

I AM angry.

I am angry that I am still so afraid.

I am angry that he hurt me.

I am angry that he said he loved me.

I am angry that he came to my house and threw me down and fucked me on my kitchen floor like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.

I am angry that he violated me. I am angry that he betrayed me. I am angry that he took something from me.

I am so angry that he said he loved me while he hurt me. I am so angry that he used God to justify what he did.

I am angry that I had to go to the police, I am angry that I had to go to court, I am angry that I had to testify, and I am angry that I had to get a protection order.

I am angry that I had to talk about the details again and again, with the doctors at the hospital, and the police, and the lawyers, and the judge, and my counselor. And each time it was like… reliving it all over again.

I am angry that even after I got a protection order he still terrorized me. He still wouldn’t leave me alone.

I am angry that I had to move far far away just to get him to leave me alone.

I am angry that I opened the stupid door without thinking on June 8th. I am angry that I didn’t fight harder and wasn’t stronger and wasn’t braver.

I am angry that I ever loved him. I am angry that I ever believed in him. I am angry that I ever kissed him or let him touch me or hold me, I am angry that I ever trusted him, I am angry that I ever felt sorry for him.

I am angry that I don’t hate him as much as I want to. I am angry that I am sad for him, and that a part of me still worries for his walk with God.

I am angry because my life was so changed… emotionally, mentally, physically… on that day… and his was not.

I am angry because there was no justice… because he hurt me so so so deeply and just went on with life. And I want there to be justice.

And I am angry because I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my choices. And I don’t trust very many people enough to let them in.

I am angry. And I don’t want anyone to tell me that I shouldn’t be.

The truth is I want someone to get angry with me and for me. I want them to want justice. I want someone to protect me and promise me that they would keep me safe and they wouldn’t allow anything like this to ever happen again. And that if my ex fiancée came they would punch him in his stupid face for hurting me.

I want someone to hold me and let me cry and let me yell and just let me be angry.

I want someone to understand.

But I am not sure anyone can.

And I don’t want to be hurt.

And I don’t want to be used.

And so I just want to shut everyone and everything out.

Because I am hurt, and broken, and so so so angry.

But I am not sure I trust myself enough to just let you in.

I’m trying to work things out
I’m trying to comprehend
Am I the chance result
Of some great accident
I hear a rhythm call me
The echo of a grand design
I spend each night in the backyard
Staring up at the stars in the sky

I have another meeting today
With my new counselor
My mom will cry and say
I don’t know what to do with her
She’s so unresponsive
I just cannot break through
She spends all night in the backyard
Staring up at the stars and the moon

They have a chart and a graph
Of my despondency
They want to chart a path
For self-recovery
And want to know what I’m thinking
What motivates my mood
To spend all night in the backyard
Staring up at the stars and the moon

Maybe this was made for me
For lying on my back in the middle of a field
Maybe that’s a selfish thought
Or maybe there’s a loving God

Maybe I was made this way
To think and to reason and to question and to pray
And I have never prayed a lot
But maybe there’s a loving God

Maybe this was made for me
For lying on my back in the middle of a field
Maybe that’s a selfish thought
Or maybe there’s a loving God

Maybe I was mad this way
To think and to reason and to question and to pray
And I have never prayed a lot
But maybe there’s a loving God

And that may be a foolish thought
Or maybe there is a God
And I have never prayed a lot
But maybe there’s a loving God

~Sara Groves Maybe There’s A Loving God

Last night that song was running over and over in my head…

I went out with four girlfriends to celebrate my friend Rebeccas birthday.

I got dressed in my new sundress

and threw on some flipflops and put my hair in a ponytail put on my oversized sunglasses and headed out the door with no flair and no purse. There is something about wearing a sundress and flip flops that makes you feel beautiful and feminine and lovely without any effort. I love being a girl.

We met at French Meadow and sat outside on the patio where we traded secrets and laughter and smiles over a bottle of good red wine and some salad and cheesecake.

We were planning on going to Mels Beauty Bar after dinner, but it was so beautiful out and we were having such a good time talking that we decided to have a small bonfire instead.

Rebecca and Miranda went and got Rebeccas guitar and then started the fire and Amanda and I went to my house and picked up my snowcone maker and then went to the liquor store and bought mixings for “big girl slushies”

We all met back at the house and I went inside and made everyone drinks and then came outside and joined the group around the fire.

We talked about love, and loss, and God… and we sang as Miranda played the guitar. It was an amazing mix of serious and silly. (We sang some worship songs, and we also made up songs to God like “Oh where is my husband, oh where is my husband, oh where, where, oh where, oh where oh where, is my husband.” Hee.)

We all talked about why we loved Rebecca and how she has blessed our lives with her compassion, her heart for God, her playfulness, and her friendship.

We went through a pitcher and a half of big girl slushie.

After the fire had died down the four of us kicked off our sandles and laid on an old quilt on our backs and looked up at the stars and the trees and the moving clouds and we prayed together.

It was one of thoes moments where you really feel connected to eachother, and stronger because of each other. It was one of thoes moments where you felt friendship and sisterhood and love so deep and so true and so real it almost took your breath away.

It was one of thoes moments where the spirit of God is so strong and so real you feel like you can reach out and touch it and wrap it around you and never ever let it go.

It was one of thoes moments where everything around you feels so big, and God seems so big and so real, and you seem so small.

And you cant help but think He made the universe and everything in it.

He knows the number of stars in the sky and yet He knows your name.

He had a plan for you even before you were born. He knows everything about you, and he loves you.

And that amazes me.

I came home last night so thankful for good times, and for good friendships, but above all thankful for such a good God.

Introspection can be dangerous…

In the movie Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind the main characters undergo a procedure to erase their memories.

They feel like life would be less complicated if they didn’t have to deal with the consequence of love and loss.

And today I am wondering if given the opportunity, I would erase my memories of the past year.

I am feeling overwhelmed and I am feeling terribly sad today.

Last night I called my parents and my sister crying.

On June 8th it will be one year since Matt attacked me.

In so many ways it feels like a lifetime ago.

And then something happens and I am right back in that space.

And I hate that space.

Yesterday I discovered someone is suing me.

I have no idea who.

All I know is it is a civil suit from Ohio.

And one of my friends suggested it could be Matt.

He said it would be a good way to try to find me.

And it set me in a tailspin.

Chances are that isn’t true at all.

But the thought of him coming here, of him finding me, of seeing him again terrifies me.

It’s an overwhelming fear.

I hate that space.

I hate that I am still afraid of him.

I hate that he still has that power over me.

I hate that I feel like no matter how hard I try I am not changing, and not healing.

I hate that I want someone to love me, to protect me, to fight for me.

I hate that I want someone to wrap their arms around me and remind me that I am safe, and kindly kill my fears as well.

I hate that I want someone to exorcise and slay the demons one by one.

I hate that no one can.

I hate that this is a journey I have to take by myself.

And I hate that it’s lonely.

And I hate that it’s hard.

I spent much of yesterday thinking about the past year, and how far I have come, and how far I still have to go.

How can you pick up the shattered pieces of your heart and hold them in your hand and ever be the same?

You can’t.

It’s funny to me how life changes so suddenly… how one moment, one night, one knock at the door and everything you knew changes.

You are forever changed.

But how?

How do you gauge the healing of your heart?

How do you remember what you were a lifetime ago?

For so long Matt told me that I was hard to love, and unlovable, and hard to put up with.

He hated my craziness, my spontaneity, my sarcasm, my teasing, and my flirtiness.

He always wanted me to be so different than I was.

And so I tried to change for him… and I started to lose who I really was.

And now I am afraid I will never find her. And I won’t recognize her when I do.

And so I wonder…

Who am I? Am I healing? Am I different? How am I different? How am I any further along than I was a year ago? Am I stronger? Am I wiser?

Because I can the handle the memories, I can handle the loneliness, I can even handle the fear… but I can’t handle knowing that it was all for nothing. I need to know I have changed.

I smell like chlorine. It seems like it doesn’t matter how much I shower, after 15 years of teaching lessons and swimming, the smell has just settled in my skin. When I get wet it smells like chlorine. Lick me, you’ll smell the pool. I got up and swam with Susie early this morning. I love waking up super early and going to the gym. I loving feeling that by 8 am I have already accomplished something. I love how relaxing it is as my muscles stretch with each stoke. I love how water surrounds you and protects you and how easy it is to get lost in your own world while you swim. After we swam I showered and through on a dress and some sandals and went into work. But a coworker walked by and said “Does it smell like the pool in here?” Heh. That would be me.

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As I was typing this Tim the FedEx man came by. It’s been all awkward since I told him I didn’t want to go out. I am sure most of that is me, but some of it is him. Because he always reminds me that if I change my mind he would love to take me out. And today he said “you could be my baby” It was hard not to laugh in his face. Because I can be a bitch. And because that is a HORRID pickup line. No wonder the man is still single.

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There are a lot of homeless men out these days. Susie and I drove by one last night that had a big sign that said “trapped in the land of oz, please help”. It was on a piece of white card board and drawn in four different colors of markers. I don’t get it. And once again maybe it’s because I can be a bitch, but HELLO. If you are resourceful enough to find clean white cardboard and FOUR different colors of markers you are resourceful enough to walk your ass to the YMCA homeless shelter where they will FEED you and help you find a JOB. Be a man. I don’t feel sorry for you and you can’t have a dollar.

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My trip to the science museum with Greg got canceled on Sunday. Stupid mother’s day. But he just walked by my desk and asked if we could reschedule for Saturday. YAY! I am totally going to go see dead bodies this weekend!

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Who decided that leggings should be back in style? Seriously. I walked by forever 21 and apparently styles haven’t changed since I was in middle school. The 80’s are back. Why? They weren’t that cute the first time around. And trust me I was all about the leggings and the short skirts back in the day. I loved them. But I also loved pegged pants and banana clips and sticky pink lip gloss (ok so I still love the lip gloss). It doesn’t mean they should be relived. (Ironically as I was typing this Irene Caras What a feeling started playing on my media player. Heh)

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I want these shoes SO BAD.

I saw them online today. 90 dollars though. Holy Buckets. But they are awesome.

Danny and I spent another late night over pancakes,
Talkin’ ’bout soccer
And how every man’s just the same
We made speculation
On the who’s and the when’s of our futures
And how everyone’s lonely
But still we just couldn’t complain

And how we just hate being alone
Could I have missed my only chance
And now I’m just wasting my time
By looking around
But you know I know better
I’m not gonna worry ’bout nothing
Cause if the birds and the flowers survive
Then I’ll make it okay
I’m given a chance and a rock
see which one breaks a window
See which one keeps me up all night and into the day

Because I’m so scared of being alone
That I forget what house I live in
But it’s not my job to wait by the phone
For her to call

Well this day’s been crazy
But everything’s happened on schedule
from the rain and the cold
To the drink that I spilled on my shirt
‘Cause You knew how You’d save me
before I fell dead in the garden
And You knew this day
long before You made me out of dirt

And You know the plans that You have for me
And You can’t plan the end and not plan the means
And so I suppose I just need some peace
Just to get me to sleep.

Caedmon’s Call
Table for Two

That song has been running in my head all morning…

Yesterday I got home from work, grabbed some scissors and cut down some lilacs.

They are finally blooming, and I think the smell is intoxicating and delicious and beautiful and comforting.

Then took my vase and I went in my room and turned on some Violet Burning and attempted to do my “homework”

I was supposed to come up with 25 things that are good about me… and that I love about myself.

And I could only name five.

Only five.

I threw myself on my bed and started to cry.

It felt good to cry… to just let go of the frustration and hurt and anger and just cry.

And I was being silly and slightly overdramatic…

But it was comforting.

Then my friend Kim called and we agreed to meet at my house that evening for cocktails.

So, Kim and I spent another late night over drinks

Talkin’ ’bout love

And how every man’s just the same.

We made speculation

On the who’s and the when’s of our futures

And how everyone’s lonely

But still we just couldn’t complain

Well, maybe we could complain a little.

But just a little.

I adore Kim.

She is sassy, and sympathetic, and strong.

Although she would tell you she is none of thoes things.

She is one of the handful of people I truly consider a friend in every meaning of the word.

And even when I am hard to love, she reminds me that I am loveable.

And she reminds me that there is way more then five things that are good about me.

We sat down at one my favorite bars and had a drink and played the jukebox.

And we talked about love and loss.

And how important good friends are.

And how all this is just a journey. And how we are making progress.

And how each time we discover what we dont want we get one step closer to what we do want.

We talked about deep old wounds, and new fresh ones.

And we laughed.

She laughed at me when I called the bouncer sporty spice and asked if his job was to look pretty.

And when I told the man outside that the wonderous punch was wonderous.

It was exactly what I needed.

It was perfect.

and today I keep thinking about Table for two…

And how we just hate being alone

And wondering if I could have missed my only chance

And now I’m just wasting my time

By looking around

But you know I know better

I’m not gonna worry ’bout nothing

Cause if the birds and the flowers survive

Then I’ll make it okay.

and I will.

with God. and good friends. and lilacs. and a little bit of liquor. and a lot love.

I am angry today.

Not frusterated.

Not annoyed.

Not even hurt.

I am ANGRY.

And it feels good.

It feels good to yell and swear and cry and just be angry.

It feels good to not make excuses for how I feel or sugar coat it or blame myself for feeling that way.

And the truth is it really isnt one person or one thing making me angry.

Its all these layers of hurt and resentment that I have pretended for so long didnt exist.

Its because I have so often felt hurt and used and then apologized for feeling that way.

Its years of thinking my opinions and my feelings dont matter as much as other peoples do.

And it has built up and built up and now I want to explode.

And so I am ANGRY.

Even if its just for a moment.

It feels good to be expressive.

It feels good to yell.

And I am not even sure I am sorry.

I am sure I WILL be sorry.

But right now I am just ANGRY.

I am angry right now.

I am angry because I have spent all day apologizing for things I wasn’t sorry for.

I have a horrible need to apologize. All the time. To everyone. For everything.

People who know me well and love me are forever telling me to stop apologizing for things that I have no control over…

I apologize after I state my opinion or after I am honest about my feelings.

And the truth is I get angry after I apologize… Because I am not sorry.

Today a friend hurt my feelings, and my immediate response was to apologize to them because I was upset. But I wasn’t sorry. I was hurt. I still am hurt.

I feel like I have walked on eggshells for some people in my life… and its never good enough. And so I apologize. I apologized today. But I am not sorry and I am doing the best I can.

At my job I apologize to angry callers. All day. Callers who I did nothing to offend, but who are frusterated and angry and who take it out on me. And I apologize because that is my job, but I am not sorry. I think they are nasty and mean and ridiculous.

It has been a long day at work.

And at lunch a lady set me right over the edge.

She bumped into me and made me drop the soup which I just bought down my shirt and all over the floor… It splattered on her shoes. She gave me a nasty look and I immediately said I was sorry. But I wasn’t sorry. I was angry she made me drop my soup and angry she gave me a nasty look. But I apologized to her. Stupid lady.

Once, my friend Janelle said that you could say or do almost anything you wanted to me, because I am easy going, and even if I get mad I wouldn’t stay mad very long and I would always be the one to apologize.

And even though that hurt my feelings a great deal, and I think that is an awful awful thing to say about someone you care about, the truth is she was right.

I have proved her right time and time again.

I proved her right today.

And even as I type this I want to end it with apologizing for not typing something more fun, or deep, or witty.

But you know what, it’s my blog. And I am not sorry.

Some days it is harder to be single than others days. Yesterday was one of those days.

I had an amazing day.

Spring was in the air, children were laughing, and I was surrounded by people I love deeply.

I went to church, had an amazing lunch, participated in an Easter egg hunt and a talent show, sat by a bonfire, and laughed and loved.

And yet there was a loneliness to the day for me.

I watched parents play with their children, new couples share the joy of being close and getting to know each other, and people who have been married for years share private jokes and touch each other tenderly as they passed by.

And it was hard for me.

Because I want that.

All of it.

I want to meet someone, fall madly in love, and have them love me back.

I want them to want to get to know me and be close to me. I want a man who knows my craziness and my drama and all my baggage and still looks at me with love in his eyes. I want to be worthy of fighting for and being pursued.

I want someone who is crazy about me, and needs me in their life always.

I want a man to drop to his knees and ask me to marry him and then I want to have children and make family dinners and have puppet shows and Easter egg hunts and talent shows.

I want to be married for years and years and watch my children grow old and have their own children and watch my husband turn grey before my eyes and watch time etch wrinkles on his skin.

I want that.

And watching people interact last night in the different stages of relationships tore at my heart. It was hard.

It is hard to be 27 and single.

It is hard to not worry that you are too old, too used, too broken.

It is hard to put your heart out there, to trust and be open to the idea of love, only to have that dream fall short time and time again.

It is hard when things seem so right on paper… when everyone around you thinks you found your perfect match… but you can’t make it work.

It is hard when you fall in love, and no matter how much you want to you can’t make someone love you back.

It is hard not to feel like you must be hard to love… and to worry that no one is ever going to love you… the real you.

It is hard to watch people around you enjoy life, and life, and family….

It is hard.

Most days I don’t care.

I like my freedom… I like open possibilities. I like being single and independent. I like being flirty and going on dates. I like that it’s still okay that men buy me drinks.

I like my house on the edge of downtown and being able to walk to work and making plans without it affecting anyone but me. I like that I can buy what I want, and I don’t have to ask or worry about it.

I like having time and space to work on me, and discover who I am.

I like being single…

But some days are harder than others…

“Is he — quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

—The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Those lines have been running over and over in my head the past week.

In my woman’s small group and on the rumor forum we have been discussing fear of the Lord.

The bible if full of passages admonishing us to fear the Lord.

To be honest, it is so much easier for me to put God into a box and declare Him safe than to understand how He should be feared.

I don’t like the word fear.

It makes me uncomfortable.

It makes me think of manipulation and control.

It makes me want to run and hide rather than fall on my knees and worship openly and honestly.

I have lived in all consuming fear… and it is hard for me to use that word when talking about my God.

My Savior.

My lover.

My King.

I have spent so much of my life afraid. Afraid of myself. Afraid of others. Afraid of falling short. Afraid of being unloved. Afraid of love.

Most of these fears were unjustified, but they consumed me. They made it hard to think, feel, and breathe.

When I came to God, I came to Him without fears. When I was told that God accepted me as I was, I set aside the fear and ran towards God. I RAN towards a God who knew all about me, who knew all the things I kept hidden and still loved me. I ran towards the cross and the security of my salvation.

Now, almost ten years later… it is hard for me to reconcile the God who loves me with the God I should fear.

Does anyone else struggle with this?

Am I alone in this?

Maybe where I struggle is the very definition of fear…

fear

A feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger.

A state or condition marked by this feeling: living in fear.

A feeling of disquiet or apprehension: a fear of looking foolish.

A reason for dread or apprehension: Being alone is my greatest fear.

None of those definitions sound very pleasant. And none of them make me want to be in a relationship with the person I am supposed to fear.

This summer I went through a very hard time. I was attacked. And the more I said no, the more persistent my attacker became. I lived in fear…. so I KNOW fear. I know the kind of fear of those definitions.

When I was afraid of a man… it was consuming. Everything I did or said, everywhere I went, every one I let my life, everything revolved around that fear, and keeping myself safe…

It was constantly in my thoughts…

Last night… when I praying about fearing the Lord I realized something.

God is not constantly in my thoughts… everything I do or say is not always centered on him. I let people into my life and don’t think of Him. Everywhere I go He is not in my thoughts…

And maybe he should be.

Maybe that is the part of fearing the Lord that I am missing.

There is a final definition of the word fear.

Fear

Extreme reverence or awe, as toward a supreme power.

The more I reflect and pray about it, the more I am beginning to understand fear of the Lord in that aspect…

Reverence because he isn’t safe, and awe because he is good.