How Change Affects Me

I haven't written in a while because mostly, I think, what's the point? I barely understand myself, why should I even try to put it into words for other people to try and understand me, that is, IF people even read what I write.

I am an extremely sensitive person (Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person is amazing, describes me well and has really made an impression on my life) and lately I have been very touched by life's changes.

I was talking to my counselor the other day and explaining how in the last couple weeks all this stuff happened: my bro Greg and sis-in-law Sarah suddenly had twins and moved from Texas to my neighborhood; my younger bro Tim came back suddenly from Germany for surgery and went back a few days ago; I got a teaching job for the fall; I am beginning grad school; my oldest brother Nate and his fiancée are getting married in a few months and want to start having kids ASAP; I found out my dog is dying and how that's affecting my parents is really tearing my up (not to mention how I already worry about them); within a few hours of each other, I found out a dear person in my life had a second miscarriage AND that a couple who I led youth with at my old church were involved in a horrific incident in which they were both shot (the wife died)...and it goes on.

Not to mention how much has happened over the last few years that I am still trying to get a handle on, both with me AND the people close to me in life. One thing with me is that I feel SO deeply and this has proven a blessing and curse.

I was so sick after hearing about my friend who lost his wife that I went through a phase (few days) of feeling guilty if I even tried to make myself happy. The thought: ("How is it okay that I am happy when my friend is suffering so much?") I struggle with this immensely when I hear of tragedies. That's why the news is so hard to watch. What's the point? I can DO NOTHING so I feel horrible and guilty a lot.

The good news: I have been feeling better after these incidences and have started to reframe my thoughts. I know my friends and loved ones wouldn't want me to suffer like that. And as my counselor said, we will all have horrific things in our life. That makes me remember when my brother Tim had his life-threatening motorcycle accident. While I felt the worst pain of my life, I felt I had a role so that's how I kept going. I knew I had to be there for my family. But with others' tragedies, I somehow feel it is my role to suffer because they are suffering and if I stop going crazy, then that is not fair to them.

I know it's messed up; that's what depression and anxiety can do to a person. (See how it's kind of an extreme form of empathy?) And I know it is spiritual too. My Lord doesn't want me to suffer this way and he can comfort people more than I ever could. That alone is a good thought and eases my burdens. Satan definitely wants me to be depressed about all these tragedies and wants to spur on all these lies in my head. Yes, yes I know all this. But for some reason, as I get older, I realize life isn't getting any better as far as bad news goes.

Jesus, can you please come back soon?

And now I am in over my head with the "sad state of American health care" (a new obsession: good or bad, I am not sure, but that's for another entry...)

Dumping Ground

Can feelings tell you any sort of truth? Because for all I know they are not a gift but a steaming sword aimed for your heart, right from the evil one. Because even when I am feeling the good ones, I know they won’t last. Because they will just get demolished by the ones that eat and rip out my insides, make my mind boil in agony and my skin crawl in irrational sweat. So unhuman. I feel this for even seconds and know I am in trouble if I feed into this feeling. They continually attack me, but I guess it’s not the feeling as much as the thought that started it all. Or is it the feeling first? And which is evil, if not all, or is it I that is evil? I cannot stop because I am a mack truck spiraling down an incline and a tornado burrowing over those I care about the most flipping them over, drowning them in the undertow. And yet, I am me. And I feel these feelings to be me. But not all the time.

Inside where no one can see, I see my self. The self I hate and know is not my real self. But I sometimes glimpse the real person I am and want to be. But the dark and eery creatures eat the real me alive and I am screaming, yelping to not drown under their cackling bodies. I literally call out “Jesus” but I must not be doing it right because they just come right back. Again and again when I least want them there. When my relationships just begin to mend and I feel like I once again have a purpose. I am burned and all I can see is that it was me.

But I want to celebrate this moment of peace I have been given. I don’t know why Satan chooses to come at one time and not another. Or is it because I am stronger now? I don’t think so. Is it because my chemicals are more balanced? Probably, but that might have nothing to do with the fact that I took my medication. All I know is I can’t see past this wretchedness. I can just see a whirlwind cycle. Up, down, pow, bam-bam-bam, circling, sniping, swimming back, forth. Then up, down, pow. All over again. And your mind is telling you you have to do something about it. But all you can do is slump over with a sigh because trying has just led to failure, again and again and again. And the Church is saying we don’t have to defeat Satan because he’s already been defeated on the Cross. Blah, blah, blah. What does that mean? What do I DO? How much is spiritual and biological or should I just assume it’s biological because the spiritual has turned it that way?

Am I eternally flawed? Is God looking down on me asking, ‘When will you get it?’” I really hope I get it soon. The God I know and love wouldn’t say that, but why would he really want us to be this desperate, hopeless and confused. I feel like I seek him, ask him for help so much he is probably so tired…and like, "Okay. I’ve already told you the answer. Are you really listening?!” Or does he say, “Just hang on. Just a little longer. The pain won’t last too much longer. You’ll only fail this many more times.” I am so damn tired of hanging on, God! I want it to be real and better. And I want to know my feelings as something more that just fleeting seeds flitting about by each breath of wind, knocking the air out of you as they pass by. I want to know hope and freedom. And not just today; but forever. Some people may say it's a choice. I would like to believe it too. Wouldn't I have chosen it by now?