Patience

Alright, I have a confession to make.

I'm not a patient person.

This probably surprises no one, least of which my mother, who for years would tell me:

"Patience is a virtue,
Virtue is a grace,
Grace is a little girl who wouldn't wash her face."

And I gotta say, that was some of the most singularly unhelpful sayings I've ever heard. It makes no sense.

But in a way it does. When I cry out to God and say, "Lord, give me patience with so and so, or such and such!" I don't really want patience. If I did, I'd just deal with the situation. Its in those trying times that I learn and grow in patience. No, what I really mean when I cry out is, "Lord, I'm tired of learning patience/peace/whatever fruit of the Spirit have you, and I just want you to take care of it so I don't have to."

And isn't that like a little girl who won't wash her face before supper so Mom has to. Sometimes Mom even gets out the tissue, does that gross licking thing to clean off your face (Truly, I hated that, and I know I can't be alone in having a parent do that to me). Grace didn't want to deal with it, so she got cleaned up. The hard way, the gross way, the expedient way. But not the cleanest way, not the way that makes her cheeks shine, and shows off the light in her eyes. Just the easy way.

So in hindsight, that little saying has more wisdom than I accounted for. Asking for patience is definitely asking for trouble, but I think I'd rather that than the easy, spit-tissue style cleanup I get when I decide it's too much for me to handle. When I refuse to wash my own face.

Time to be mindful in my prayers. Maybe that'll give me the patience I don't realize I want in the midst of my whining for it to be easier.

Something missing

"You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don't even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don't even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant. It happened to me." - Life as a House

I had a realization the other day. Well, I've had it several times, growing over the past few weeks, but it seemed to really get into my gut today, and I'm marveling at it.

Something's missing in my life.

I don't know when it went missing. Maybe it slowly withered away. I certainly didn't notice it go, but I've noticed it now that it's gone.

Let me back up and say first that while I've enjoyed the victory over addiction I've had the past few months, I'm by no means cured. I don't think you can be cured of addiction. I think it's a bit like cancer. Addiction springs out of the part of us that is longing for something good, something right, and it begins to devour the rest of our lives, destroying all it touches. Same with cancer cells. Same with sin. As a metaphor, it's not perfect, but it works for me, so I'd say I'm healed, in remission, and living life with that in mind has helped me to realize what's gone missing.

Part of what makes it easy for me to give in to addiction is that I'm prone to fits of depression. I've not been medically diagnosed, but I can say with certainty that I get depressed. I know because when I come out of the cycle, and that dark place it takes me, I can look back and see it for what it is. Depression. Living my life in darkness.

And that's missing. That darkness. Even when I was out of that headspace of being depressed, I knew that was there, waiting for the next time. It was familiar, and as much as I hated it, I'd embrace it as I slid back into a fugue. It was like a friend, in a way, the kind who tells you what you want to hear, rather than what is right. Only it told me everything to make me stay in darkness, to keep hating myself. It LIED to me.

And it's gone. Or at the very least, like cancer cells, so diminished that I don't feel or see it's effects. It's powerless, and I'm in remission. Because I've been healed. From the depression, from the lies, from everything that fed into my addiction and made it oh so easy to not just fall off the wagon, but to fling myself off into a pit of despair.

I realized something else, too. In it's place is gratitude. Overwhelming and absolute. God's done a huge thing for me these past few years, in bringing me face to face with my failures, my inability to help myself, and He waited patiently for me to let go, truly let go of trying to fix myself, let go of the pain, the anger, and everything that was like puppet strings pulling me back to a dark place that brought death to my heart.

Now, there is life. In my heart. In my eyes. In my soul. Walking with Jesus, walking to God, it's not the fear-riddled thing it was for so long. I couldn't tell you why I feared it. I feared everything. God's bringing my fear to light and showing it to be the powerless thing, strings made of cobwebs. It holds me only as far as I let it. And instead of wrapping myself up in it, I'm taking Jesus's hand, and he's pulling me out of the darkness, past the spiderweb, and into the light.

Maybe I shouldn't say missing. It's not something I want back, after all. It's something that's been excised. Been cleansed. It's the part of me I've longed to have God change, and after so long, I've gotten out of the way of him changing it.

I've come out of Egypt, long ago. I've been freed from captivity. But I gave myself over to fear and doubt, and spent too long in the desert. Now, I'm at the shore of the River Jordan. He told me to put my foot in, and the waters will recede. After dithering on the banks for I don't know how long, My feet are in. And they're dry. I'm walking forth, in His promises, into the Promised Land. Full of all God has for me. Leaving all the rest behind.

Let Go and Let God

Try not to think for five minutes.


Yeah, I can't do that. I've tried. Meditation never did it for me. All that did was predispose me to get some sleep. Blogging is in theory for me the practice of emptying your head of thoughts, ideas, and has served as a cathartic purpose like that. But it doesn't shut the brain down.

"Be still, and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10 gives what is, for me, one of the hardest commands of scripture. Not stillness of body, but stillness of mind. Some translations say, 'Cease striving' or 'Our God says, "Calm down," 'Let be and be still', 'Desist', 'Stop', and the most perplexing (The Message) 'Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything.'

This past weekend at the Women of Faith conference one of the speakers, Sheila Walsh, put it another way, and I think I get this way the best. 'Let go, and know that I am God.'

Certainly touches on the heart of why I struggle with stillness. How much do we hold on to everyday? How much of our hurts, our fears, our shames, do we wrap around ourselves like an armor? And why?

I have a theory. Being known, being loved by God, truly, completely, and how He intended, is Terrifying.

Take that armor we make. Not God's armor. The stuff we fashion. The defense mechanisms. Paper-thin like a t-shirt, unable to truly protect us, but we frequently go around thinking and behaving as though God hasn't seen it all, heard it all, knows it all when it comes to our lives.

If I was to go to God with all my sins, flaws, talents, ugliness, beauty, I'd have to trust that He won't reject me. That He will do all He promises to do. Love me. Heal me. Restore me. Refine me.

Of course I can give any number of reasons why I don't go running to His throne, knowing what he's promised me. He might ask more than I can give, more than I can do. He might take away something important to me.

All of which boils down to this: I don't trust Him to be who He says He is.

I've blamed God in the past for things that have hurt me, for circumstances not turning out the way I thought they should have, that He promised me, which is untrue, He didn't promise me anything save that he would never leave me nor forsake me.

I've used my addictions as a shield. I've let sin in my life be my defense against the all-powerful love of God. And it hasn't made me happier, or safer, or even stronger. It's merely withered my faith, eroded my hope, and distorted my love.

But that's not the end. I'm not stuck in the place of trying to defend myself by myself, with a shield full of holes and as thin as paper. I'm in a place of learning that I can let it all go, and know that He is God, He will deliver me, and I can trust that, no matter how many times I fall on my face. He'll just set me on my knees.

Truth and Lies

It's been a while since I posted here. I tend to think of this as where I go when I have something profound, or potentially so that I want to work out in a journal space.

There's been a lot on my mind, but what it boils down to is the difference between truth and lies.

Now, I'm fairly absolute in my view of the universe. I believe in universal truth, which tells me that there is right, and there is wrong. So, there has to be truth, because there is lies.

In my search just now, I found that an archaic meaning of truth is fidelity or constancy. I rather like that, because there is a constancy to truth, a faithfulness. So when the bible calls God the God of all truth, it notes and marks His faithfulness, in being unable to lie. It negates all that God is, to lie. Not a hard concept, I mean, Kevin Smith got it right in Dogma!

Now, lies are trickier. Such is the nature of lies, to be tricky. Most of the time you can tell the truth from a lie, either by evidence that directly contradicts the lie, or by that feeling you get, deep inside, when you're being lied to. It sucks, it really does, to be lied to.

It really sucks, though, when you lie to yourself.

I'm very familiar with that kind of lie. Lots of lies revolve around the "can't's". 'I can't do that. I can't lose weight. I can't stop that behavior. He can't like me. He can't find me attractive.' The can't's are tied pretty closely to the "never's". 'I'll never have kids. I'll never get married. I'll never get out of this job/apartment/state.' Yeah, I've told myself pretty much all of those lies.

The thing is, lies can be soooooo attractive. Think about it. If you lie to yourself, you never have to change. If you let lies defeat you, if you believe things that are just completely untrue, then you never run the risk of being disappointed. Never risk being hurt, getting let down, left out, but you never know joy, know how wonderful it can be to be included, to have your expectations fulfilled rather than dashed.

Lies are designed to keep us tied to one place of thinking.

There's a truism about how the only constant is change. I'd go a step further, the greatest change you can ever have is by believing truth. Truth isn't a stagnant thing. It grows you, stretches you, and to quote, sets you free.

the Book of Ephesians talks about the armor of God, and it mentions being girded in the belt of truth. I always liked that. You wear truth around your middle. Why there? To keep your clothes on!

Why is it important to keep your clothes on? Because Isaiah 61:10 says "I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels." That's some pretty rocking clothes you wanna keep on.

There's so much to be said for truth. It's not easy. On the contrary, knowing and holding fast to truth in the face of a world that says there's no such thing, that your truth isn't my truth, that there is no truth, that your truth is wrong/hateful/cruel/a lie, that's a tough thing to do. Truth is right up there with faith, in being the challenge that takes an entire lifetime. Lies will come and go, and change as you change. But truth is the constant that takes you through the lies, to greater understanding of who you are, and who you are meant to be.

The Pretty People Post

So, I said over at Facebook that I was going to do a post on pretty people, and a good friend jokingly, "you don't have to do an entire blog post about me." And while she wasn't who I was thinking of (sorry, Maggi!), it did strike me how much perception plays into this.

Let me start by saying I'm as guilty as the next person of obsessing over pretty people. I used to read the celebrity magazines, read all sorts of stuff online, find pictures of an actor I adored and just gaze dreamily at him (or wallpaper my bedroom wall, but that's another story). And the sad bit is that I'm not talking about as a teenager. I'm talking about more recently. Like last week. I think.

But here's the thing. I look at the 'pretty people' (and for the sake of definitions, let's assume I'm only speaking about the folks given media attention, like actors, actresses, musicians, and the all purpose 'celebs (yes, I am talking about you, Paris Hilton)), I'm doing two things. Marveling over the look they've both achieved and maintained, either through fitness, plastic surgery, or God's own grace in giving them symmetrical faces, and wondering what's inside.

Because that's what matters, right? What's inside a person? Says who? Well, God does.

The Bible doesn't say,

"Create in me a clean face, oh God, and renew a right body in me."

"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of you face."

"Above all else, guard your face, for it is the wellspring of life."

All a man's ways seem right to him, but the LORD weighs the face."

Just in rereading all those adulterated scriptures its pretty clear how appearance doesn't work when you're talking about eternity.

So why do we do so? I know why I fixate on appearance. It's all around me. The notion of success as presented by the world is tall, thin, beautiful. By the standards that have been set by some vague select elite. (Actually, the modern standard of beauty is likely being set by fashion designers, most often gay men, who create clothes for women to showcase what they'd find appealing on a man. No breasts, no hips, no fat or curve at all. But I digress).

I also fixate because a part of me just wants to think that there might be something deeper to the image I'm seeing. That the person with the perfect lips, cheekbones, hair, eyes (coughjensenacklescough) might be more than just pretty in form, but pretty in spirit. You know?

We all know people who we'd describe as pretty/beautiful, inside and out. But the question I want to ask is this: Would we have gotten to know their inner beauty if we hadn't found the outside appealing? Do we get to know people because we hope their insides match their outsides, or do we get to know them irregardless of looks?

I honestly don't know. I'm as guilty of this thinking as the next person. And it stinks, because my self-image is such I tend to classify myself with the non-pretty people that often get left out. And I isolate myself on that same basis. Because I buy the lie that I don't matter if my face and form aren't up to the world's standards. That no one will see the real me inside my extra weight and screwy eyes and bad skin. That unless I change everything about myself to make my outsides match my insides, I won't matter.

I know we're all critical of our appearance. And we do so in terms of what other's think. 'I can't wear that dress, I'll look fat.' 'He'll never notice me in this top, I better change, and wear a pushup bra besides.' 'I'm too young/old for him/her.' 'No point in dressing to impress cause no one's looking.'

And it's everywhere we go. Not just in the secular world. I'm self-conscious every time I go to church, wondering if I'm dressed up just enough to fit in, or if it's too much, or if I should have worn more jewelry, or if I should have worn heels, and on and on. Mostly, I ignore those thoughts, because I'm not entirely awake when I get there, but by the time I leave, I'm aware of how I do, and do not match my surroundings. The absolute dumbest part? No one but me cares or notices these things.

I greatly admire the women who dress to please themselves and no one else. (Of course if I did that, it'd be a sheet over my head half the time). The ones who don't care what others think. Recently I wore what can only be described as a teenybopper t-shirt to my church's women's retreat. I don't have the body for those kind of shirts, yet I did it anyway. Wanted to have fun with it. And this time, I did get a response. Ranging from "Oh, Jen. Only you." to "That's a devil shirt!" (It said, 'I kissed a vampire and I liked it') So I pleased myself that time. And now I have to stop second-guessing myself the next time I go to church, because who knows what they'll think if I wear my new threadless (tm) shirt.

And in the midst of all this self-conscious thinking lurks the truth, well hidden by the lies we tell ourselves when we look in a mirror, and when we see billboards and commercials and people on the street who cause envy just by their very size two jeans. The truth that none of it matters. The truth that our face and form are not, as a lot of netspeaking teenagers might say, 'relevant to my (God's) interests'.

This is the truth:

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." (I personally like Judge Judy's "Beauty Fades, Dumb is Forever" idiom, but this is also true ;) )

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight."

And by way of warning/admonishment to myself and others who fixate on looks:

"As water reflects a face, so a man's heart reflects the man."


I actually intended to write this as a more joking post, but the deeper I got into it, the more I realized how hard this hits me. I'm considered a smart and wise woman by my peers, yet I doubt it all the time because how can I have anything to offer? You see women in all career paths, even Christians, who have to bank their talent and intellect on their appearance. In my more spiteful and vindictive moments I wonder how a person so physically unpleasing by worldly standards could be happy/married/successful; could have peace/someone/success, while I don't?

Well, that answers the question right there. They have someone because they've gotten past the need for outward adornment. I know I haven't. But I'm trying to change. Trying to see that the only way I can be pretty outside is if I'm 'pretty' inside. And the only way I can do that is through the grace of God. Through his transformation. My face has to reflect my heart. Which I know is hard, far harder than I want it to be. But I believe that God will change that. Not sure how, or when or where, but I have hope for it.

Rambling about the conference and retreat, in no particular order

~The video conference at Zion was absolutely astounding. I've not had many of what you might call direct experiences of God. In the sense that I'm physically and mentally overwhelmed. This was one of them. The speakers were talking about the life of King David, and how he came to a lot of crossroads, his anointing by the Lord (he was anointed as a teen, but didn't become a king until he was in his 30's), how God transformed him even in the midst of his sin with Bathsheba, and about how available grace is to us when we sin. It was some really good teaching.

~The part that hit me the hardest was when Beth Moore was talking about moving past our devastation with God. The example was when David tried to bring the Ark into the city, in 2 Samuel 6: 1-10. He thinks he's doing what God wants him to do, only Uzzah is struck dead when he touches the Ark. He gets angry at God, and I can totally understand that. I didn't understand why God brought me to CA, because I really didn't want to move here. AT ALL. And when I went home at Christmas 2004, and saw and heard how everyone was moving on with their lives and I wasn't, not in the way I thought I would/should be, I broke. Literally.

That January, when I went to a bible study at church, I cried like a baby, and I couldn't explain why. Now I think I know. I was devastated at where God had led me. From having a close circle of friends, strong fellowship, a pastor and church family I adored, true connectivity, to a new place, where I had to start over. I didn't want to start over! I wanted my chicas, and my family, and things to stay the same. And instead of trusting that God had His reasons, I decided to walk away from Him. So Spring 2005 I was living, as they say, "in the world." Got drunk with increasing regularity, hung out in bars trying to get past my own innate shyness and pick up guys, until finally, at a friend's house, I got drunk enough to give his roommate ... well, sexual favors. Let's leave it at that.

That was a wake-up call, let me tell you. I had kept saying as I do all this stuff, "God, if you're there, you'll stop me. You won't let me go to far. You'll send me a sign, or do something so I come back to you. So I know you're real." And honestly? He didn't do anything. Not in the sense that he answered my.... dares, shall we say. God is not to be trifled with. What I thought I needed, Him proving his love, wasn't it at all. I needed a reason to drag my broken self back to church, back to the foot of the cross where, as the song goes, "grace and suffering meet." I've been scrabbling back from that since then, and I think, in my own heart and mind, God hadn't forgiven me for walking away, so my relationship with him was messed up.

In the midst of this I started turning to porn as a way to feel.... something. You know? Something is better than nothing. But the problem with it is you read/watch it often enough, it's like any addiction, you need more of it to feel its effects. And it was consuming my life. I didn't want to be social. I didn't care about seeing and being with other people. I fulfilled obligations to church stuff, but I hated myself, knowing how two-faced I was being.

And eventually I did tell someone. I was praying that God would send someone to ask how I was, and if He did, I'd confess. K. came to me, and we talked a bit, and she tried to keep me accountable. She really did. But she's older, has her own problems (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), and couldn't be there for me as much as I needed her to be. So I drifted. I joined a six month group dedicated to relational struggles (sexuality, porn, etc), and it helped a fair bit, but not as much as I had hoped. I still wasn't letting down the walls on this.

Last spring was when God finally got through to me about it. Not in that He hadn't forgiven me, but that I hadn't truly repented. Which was when I blogged my monster post about it all. The year since I've slipped and slid, and sunk into a depression and apathy that even porn couldn't reach me, not really. Then one day.... I woke up.

~ I realized at this retreat that I'm not where God wants me. But at the same time, I'm not outside his grace, or his mercy. And my thinking I hadn't been forgiven? Hogwash. I got that at the conference, the weekend before. And God's reassurance that I have a second change, not quite a do-over, but an opportunity to resume the race brought new meaning to the words believe, and hope than I'd had before. you know how you can know the meaning of a word, but not really feel the emotion, the connection to what it means for you, personally? I'd believed in Jesus as savior for 8 years, but I hadn't BELIEVED quite like I do now. Same with hope. Hope's not a wishy-washy, "maybe you will, maybe you won't' sort of feeling. It's knowing that whatever happens, there will be good in it. "Expectation of future good." I expect good things from God, because he is the Giver of all that is good in this world.

~ I also realized at the conference that I could be transformed. That God could and would change me in profound and tangible ways if I let down my walls, the hurt I've been clinging to since moving to CA, and let him in. And I finally did it. The word vulnerable has new meaning for me. In the past, I was terrified to admit any of this. It's from my heart of hearts. But it's no less than what God expects of me, and what God deserves. You know what the word glory means? Not just "praise, honor, or distinction extended by common consent; worshipful praise, honor, and thanksgiving." It's making God conspicuous in our lives. That's AWESOME to me, guys. That's a definition I can take hold of. Language is key for me, in connecting my heart and my mind, and these words, glory, hope, believe, they're doing some awesome things in my life.

~At the retreat I also realized something else. I have to chase hard after the things I want. I'm too passive by half. Its what caused my vulnerability to build such walls. I'd expect something from someone, get disappointed, and used it to both affirm my sense of self-worth. Which is ridiculously low. I'd take the fact that I would sit in a roomful of people I know and no one would talk to me as a sign that I didn't matter. But I do. I just have to stop retreating. Which sounds simple enough, but takes some effort on my part, being so introverted.

~This is exciting to me, guys! All this stuff happening in and around me. I have a fresh perspective, and while I'm still me, I'm growing, and moving, and changing. And it doesn't scare me, not even close. The fear that dominated so much of my life for so long is gone. I truly am different now, in ways I'm not entirely sure of, except that God changed me. That I am absolutely confident in.

The adventures of recovery, part 1

I sort of feel a bit like John Cusack in America's Sweethearts, how he just goes around saying "I'm grateful for this tree. I'm grateful for this bush." But while he is forcing it to try and bring a bit of calm to his life, I'm not.

I know it's a bit of an emotional high, to realize in a matter of weeks that A) I've been seriously depressed and somehow didn't realize; B) to make a decision about your future that excites you, and stirs you from that apathy, and C) to finally have someone PUSH you on the things you need pushed on.

There's a lady at my church who cornered me two Sunday's ago, and basically started asking me the hard questions. How was I doing with the addiction. How was my relationship with God. What could she do to help. The last was what really got me resisting. I'm very independent person, not always because I don't like people telling me what to do. I love structure and order. If I have rules to follow, I'm good. But I'm also very good at getting out from under someone's gaze, when it comes to my problems. I don't like sharing my problems. Never have. I'm much more willing/interested in being there for a person in their problems than my own. Which, now that I think about it, is a bit contradictory, as I'm an introvert who recharges in solitude. But I digress.

I'm not good at letting people into my problems because I don't always trust they'll see it through, the implied committment my sharing with them entails. And I've gotten burned on this before. Not just with problems, but with life in general. Friends giving me a raincheck. People forgetting to include me. A lot of it isn't deliberately hurtful stuff, and if the people involved knew how personally I took it, they'd be horrified. But I'd be horrified if they knew, because it means that A) I'm sharing my problems, and B) I'm letting them get close enough to hurt me.

I'm the kind of person who can wait in a line somewhere, and on a good day, talk to half the people in the line as we wait. I nearly always talk to the people next to me on planes. I just have one of those faces, i guess. So its not that I'm not good with people, per se, but socially, I'm awkward. It takes a long time for me to really warm to a person, especially if I only see them once or twice a week. I mean, there's people I go to church with for several years now who know less about me than my coworker of a few months. It sort of takes repeated, prolonged exposure to a person to get me warmed to them. And to know they're there gets past the trust thing. Sort of like a little kid. You know, if they don't see it, it doesn't exist for them, hence peek a boo is so effective, and why the littlier ones cry when mom or dad is gone. Because they're not just gone, they're GONE, forever in the baby's mind. I probably have a holdover of that going on in how I relate to people. Making friends at girl scout camps, on vacations, etc, and while we always promised to write, we never did.

And as an adult I know it's a two way street. I could have written. But the needy part of me really wants the other person to take the first step, and by doing so, validate me. Make me matter.

And I said all that to basically explain that I walked away from that conversation on Sunday realizing things had to change. And in the past, I'd just pray they would change, and be disappointed that they wouldn't, feel like it was God's answer for me. But I thought about it enough to get her email address, and I emailed her that week, and after a bit of back and forth, I was convinced to go to Celebrate Recovery.

So I went last Friday. And I gotta say, I do NOT like crowds. Of any kind. LeakyCon is going to test my capacity for being around lots of people. I've lived in CA for nearly 5 years, not once have I gone to ComicCon. Because of the crowds. Same with concerts, sports. Part of it is a sort of claustrophobia thing, but the other part? Goes back to that socialization thing. I'm surrounded by STRANGERS, and do I trust them with my physical proximity? Heck no. So now I'm going to a group I have to trust with the overwhelming number of people, but also eventually with my emotional healing. OY.

But I'm working past that. I'm taking the step and believing that God will change me. That I'll not only let him, I'll embrace it. I've been so passive in the past, so apathetic to what Jesus wants to do for me, that he can't do anything, because I was doing nothing. It's like the saying. "If you want to walk on water, first you have to get out of the boat." I was clinging to the boat like nobody's business, but now I think I've loosened my grip a bit. Letting go and letting God.

I'm tired and I should be going to bed, but this evening, talking to the women of my church and bible study really just blessed me. We're in 2 Corinthians, and in Chapter 2 it talks about God's triumphal procession. How we're not going just TO victory, but FROM victory. Thinking of life in those terms, that I've already won, that I'm starting off from something good, it's a great feeling. And a great truth I'm really wanting to keep in mind, and in heart.

Another spot caught me in Chapter 3. God writing not on tablets of stone, but on tablets of human hearts. That if God can write on stone (admittedly difficult in those days), then writing on my heart is comparatively easy. There was a lot of good stuff, and I took notes, but I think my exhaustion is catching up with me.

I'm going to try and really write this sort of thing down when it happens, so let this be the first of many posts to that effect.

Pressing On

Having not written here in nearly 6 months, I find it both ironic and telling that what I've got to put down now in words is very nearly the same as what I wrote last year.

But instead of struggling with forward motion, I'm pressing on.

After a lot of deliberation, I've decided to throw myself into the business of getting a job out of state. Not sure how long that will take, but it's time for me to make a home, put down roots, and for all that I love the people I know in Southern CA, I can't do it here. The economy won't let me.

There's some other reasons besides financial I want to move. I've never lived on my own before. As in, completely by myself. I need that. I CRAVE it. I'm an introvert, folks. If you don't know what I mean by that, it's mostly describing how I recharge my batteries. I need solitude for that. And living with a houseful of people has been draining. As a friend smartly pointed out to me, I've been living on my reserves for nearly a year, and that's not how a person should live.

So I need to go somewhere I can live on more than just dregs of solitude. More than just piecemeal relationships. Because I hold back out here. I don't want to stay, so I restrain myself from getting deep with people, so it doesn't hurt as much when I leave.

It might not be apparent to most people (not that anyone reads this anyway), but I've been seriously depressed for several months now. I don't like going out to do things socially, and as soon as I'm there, I want to fulfill my obligation and go home. That's not how to be a good friend. Not to mention the fact that I've had no direction for so long, I forgot what it felt like to be motivated, to want something enough to work towards it. I'd postpone things until I had to do something about them. Heck, I needed to think of a really good reason to get out of bed a lot of mornings. How sad is that?

So it's time. Time to change, time to find a place I can call my own. I'm 26, I should be able to be self-sufficient. And I'm not. Not by a long stretch.

If I spend my time fantasizing about getting my own apartment, being solely responsible for cooking/cleaning/etc, then you know you've got it bad. I'm not into typical feminine things, but I daydream about decor, and furniture arrangements, and how to make the place look grown up and lived in.

I'm giving away my stuffed animal collection and kid's DVD's. I'm looking at my books and belongings with an eye to paring down to fit into a new place, or whether I'll be able to buy new furniture.

I'm wishing for the day I can come home and make myself a nice meal, and not have to clean up someone else's mess before I cook. When I'll know what I have to make because I'll have stocked the fridge myself. I'll be able to set up the iron and watch tv at the same time and dress more professionally because I'll have room to deal with laundry in an adult manner.

Sounds lame, right? It kinda is. But it's a sign that my heart's desire is yearning for something more than just making do.

I want to move to a job at a university I can get my MLS in. I want to go back to school, and earn a degree that actually matters. I want to have plans for my evenings beyond sitting at home watching TV. I want to get deeper into my church and not feel like it doesn't matter what I do, I'm on the fringe because I'm single.

I'm a round peg in a square hole. I don't fit. There's too much space, and not enough me. I slip out, because I'm not supposed to be there.