Brutal Honesty

First of all, please read the WHOLE thing.  I know it's long, but it's the best snapshot of what's been going on with me that I can give you.  Second, know that this is the brutal, honest truth about where I've been this week.  There is no polishing or trying to put a positive spin on things to make us all feel better.  Just pure honesty from this week's journey.  Finally, this is a HUGE RISK for me as I'm not usually this completely vulnerable with people - and for some of you this will be a first.  Please, at least, let me know that you've read it - a phone call, email, FB message, or blog comment - however you wish.  For some reason, I need to know to whom I've really bared my soul.

OK, so the last week or so has been pretty rough.  I told Shawn and Stephen on Sunday that I couldn't stop "the bleeding" (or the tears - which is VERY unusual for me). Usually a few tears welling up is as emotional as I get - at least in public.  Overwhelming floods of tears for days on end is not normally my thing.  I think the best way to share where I've been on this part of the journey is to share bits of my journaling - which are bits of my prayers - with you:

From 2/14:  I feel so alone.  And I feel selfish and guilty for being so emotional and teary.  What right do I have to feel this way? ... My basic needs are being met.  What right do I have to feel so beaten and bruised? ... The thing is that I miss you, Jesus.  I can't deal with all of this without you.  I want to trust that you are good, that there is a purpose for all of this, that I'm not disappointing you, that you do carrying me close to your heart.  But none of that seems true right now. ... So I'm alone again.  Trapped in a life that seems like prison. ... I don't know how to stop the bleeding.  I don't think I can keep doing life this way.  I need you, Jesus.  I need to hear your voice.  I need to feel your presence.  I need hope.

From 2/17 (or actually early Thursday morning): So at work for the past 2 nights, I have been thinking about all this that's going on and why you would abandon me.  Abandonment or punishment are the only things that make sense because if this is anything else, then everything I believe about you is wrong.  And though I believe you let us suffer the consequences of our choices, I don't believe you set out to punish us, so I guess you have abandoned me.  Which still violates promises that I have believed, things that I have thought to be true about you.

Then I started thinking about fear.  When you turned my world and my faith upside down after DuBois, there was a lot of fear involved.  So what am I afraid of this time?  ...  I'm afraid you do want me to stay here forever.  I'm afraid that this is all that there is for the rest of my life.  I'm afraid that you want to take my dreams and my passions away from me - the last bits of hope I have to hold on to.

You've taken everything else.  Why not?  ... And if I have to live a life separated from my call, from what I love?  It's like dying every day.  I can't see a way out.  At what point does the body finally give out as well?  At this point, I'd welcome death.  I've thought so much about gunning my car at the bottom of Mullen instead of hitting the brakes.  But in reality, I would just smash into the guard rail and wreck my car.  I can't actually commit suicide.  It leaves too much pain behind, and I would never do that.  I can't even bear the thought of what that would do to some of the people I love the most. ...

I followed the link to Donald Miller's blog from Sunday.  It was about plowing the field and taking care of your own farm.  I get that.  But he kept talking about not moving to a bigger field if you are where you are supposed to be, doing what you love.  I don't think either is true of me right now.

So now what?  If it's true that you've been watching me fall apart, what else is there to break?  My soul, my heart, my dreams - everything is in shambles.  When does the starting to "be made whole again" part happen?  Or do I just become a casualty?

If it would help, I'd give you what I love, but I don't even have those opportunities to give right now.  And if you want me to give up any semblance of dreaming, well... that's all the hope I have right now.  It's the only thing that is keeping me going. ... But if that's what you want, you can have it.

From 2/19:  Even after 2 relatively sleepless nights, I only managed to get 2 hours of sleep before I woke and felt compelled to get up and journal this morning. ...

This week has been rough.  The bleeding that started Saturday night just continued.  I cried all day Sunday, and tears kept springing up at the most inopportune times during the week. Tears, aching, that deep longing, complete despair - all were present throughout the week.  But despite being exhausted today, something has changed.  The bleeding has stopped.  Something happened when I had it out with you on Wednesday night/Thursday morning.  First the tears stopped.  I actually went all day yesterday without bursting into sobs.  Then I actually drove to and from work last night without looking for a steep bank with no guard rail.  And now, the slightest bit of relief is allowing me to write/pray with some hope.

Is that you, Jesus?  Was it that you just wanted me to let go of my dreams and what I love?  I did that in a fit of sarcasm, fear, anger and hopelessness - desperate to stop the pain, but was it what you've wanted from me all along?

Now what?  Do I simply become content with metrology, Meadville, this isolated life?  Or do you have something better for me now that I truly have nothing left to call "mine"? ... 

For the first time in a longtime, I can actually say and mean this: Whatever you want, wherever you lead, I will follow.  I do trust you.  I trust that you are good, merciful, loving and have my best interests at heart.  I trust that you haven't forgotten about me, that you still know my name, that you've not only seen all the tears, but that you've sobbed and ached right alongside me.  I trust that one day I will feel your presence and hear your voice again, that you are leading me somewhere, that you will see me made whole again, that I am still your beloved, that you still love me, still have called me.  And I have hope that you are still proud to be my Savior.