My own words have been reverberating in my mind over the past few days from my last two posts. I've sat with them, reread them, and considered the weightiness of the emotion in them. Pain is never pretty. It's messy, uncomfortable and, to use a newly familiar word, ugly.
What to do with it?
I think I'm hurting because I don't know how to be willing to expose myself more than I already have. My imagination runs wild with possible outcomes of how it goes if I really say what I probably need to say, even in a different way, for the first time or once again. I'm weary from not feeling heard and understood. I'm exhausted from not feeling seen and invited. I don't want to demand or fight for these things. I don't want to be 'that girl'. I don't want to be too much. I don't want to wonder if they'll care. And, I certainly don't want my worst fears confirmed... That they actually don't care after all.
Because, if that's the case, what then? Strangely, and given all of what I've written this will sound strange... I know I'll be okay. My identity is secure. So what then is the actual issue?
I think it's that I'll need to move on into uncharted territory. New friendships. New work possibilities or a new way of viewing the current reality. I'll move into freedom in a way which feels frightening.
And if they do care? I'll move into deeper relationship in a way I haven't in quite a long while with people who are newer to me in that way. I risk exposing more and being profoundly rejected in the future.
Either way, something or some things will change. I'm not in control. This is the problem -- the illusion of control offers meaning and power to me. Even if it is completely devoid of actual substance and truth. Idolatry at its best, yes?
The reality is, I am incapable of doing what I need to do on my own. So this is the moment when I look beyond every piece of it and pray, "Abba, Oh Abba, be near..."
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