Sunday, November 10, 2013

A Moment of Honesty--Kind Of.


Moving to Charleston has been both a challenge and a blessing, and in the past three months I’ve seen my life change in so many ways. I’m not sure if I’m a better version of myself entirely. I feel different but I don’t really look different. I talk the same—as any southerner will remind me—but the words I use are often times cautious rather than impulsive. My actions have the same good intentions, but I still have the capacity to devastate and frustrate others, and these three months have proved that to me time and time again. As a result, I’ve avoided feelings. I wear my mind on my sleeve in order to guard my heart from truly connecting to anything. I live in a sea of complexity and I welcome it because it keeps me from ever fully recognizing the overwhelming reality of how much life can suck. But it also keeps me from recognizing the beautiful parts and the good I contribute by just simply being.
I can’t help but think that my shift in mentality, emotions, and actions all boil down to the fact that I’ve lost integral parts of life and have yet to fill the holes in again.
For example…I’m currently running away from God. I’m not sprinting yet, but I’m certainly not walking either. Up until this point, I’ve always had God and God’s people in my life. And I'm not saying I don't have that here...I'm in the South...there is literally a church around every corner.
What makes it hard is that I feel alone in the midst of an overwhelming Christian presence, which I will admit is my doing. No one can make me feel inferior except for myself and no one can make me feel alone and distant from God except for myself. I have the ability and the capacity to change everything--to take charge of my life and bring back the zest I so desperately need. I CAN do that. But I'm not.
As I listen to a man ask for “extra hot coffee” at Starbucks, I think about the boldness it takes to tell people how you really feel but also to tell yourself how you should feel. I don’t have that—at least not right now. I accept complacency. If Starbuck’s gave me lukewarm coffee and I really wanted hot coffee, I’d just say, “that’s okay, thanks anyway.” I’ve accepted a life of average-ness and along with it I've welcomed average emotions. I put up a good front--I broadcast that my coffee is extra hot--but if you actually put it to your lips you would see that it's not true. I hate that. I hate that I can't be a full-version of myself to anyone. But I also don't think that I've felt the need or want to be that intimate with a person yet, and especially not with God. Funny enough he already knows that.
I'm not saying all of this to elicit a response or for you to pity me, so don't do that. I'm just having a moment of honesty for myself--kind of--so I can look back on this and acknowledge it and then move on. I want to push forward, but I don't think anyone can do that unless they realize what they are even moving away from. I will continue to work on how I feel, and how I confront and I will never forget that I always have amazing amounts of love coming my way.
Bear with me, then, as I figure all this out. Also, I can't think of a more emo  and cheesy way to end this post than with a quote from the man, the myth, the legend, Bob Dylan:
"Don't think twice, it's alright."