the response to other’s joy

Have you ever found yourself in a place of both happiness and bitterness? Where you feel as if you are straddling a chasm and part of you wishes just to fall in so you don’t have to deal with the emotions you’re carrying right now.

This usually happens to me when something good happens for someone else.

I know, it sounds terrible. Let me explain.

I love my friends dearly and I rejoice with them when they are deserving and things go well in their lives. I know they will cheer me on when good things come my way. Yet, when a momentous event happens, why is my first thought a string of profanity wrapped in a bow of bitterness and my second thought joy?

Is it because of jealousy in my own heart? Have I been lying to myself and my friends this whole time about my motivation for being friends with them?

It is times like this where the thoughts of withdrawal come in. What if I stopped showing up? What if I didn’t respond? What if I left and never looked back?

These are the things that circle in my mind before I move to congratulations.

And that makes me sad.

Today, one of those momentous occasions was brought to my attention, and yes, my first reaction was, “Oh, shit, really?” My second reaction was, “That’s so cool, I’m so excited for them!” My final reaction was, “Will it ever be my turn and will anyone even care by that point?”

Dramatic, right?

Well, let’s just say self-worth and confidence have not always been my thing. However strong I may present to the world, I’m desperately hoping to be seen, known and loved wholeheartedly, and I don’t trust people enough to do that. I’ve seen them leave. I’ve told them my secrets and they’ve taken them and left without missing a beat.

I’ve been shattered and scattered and my heart doesn’t feel whole. So I give out half-pieces of it, not letting anyone see the full mess anymore. I don’t think people can take it, or maybe I don’t want to believe that someone would want to. Because then I would have to risk the hurt again.

That is a scary thing.

Nevertheless, I am here typing away my sorrows knowing that today, after seeing this particular event take place for my friend and working through all of the feelings, I needed to pray.

Take the bitterness away, because while this does hurt, I know it cannot be the end.

A lot of times I feel like I must be failing miserably with the faith thing. Like, I must not have enough trust to be blessed with the type of love and care I am looking for in all of my relationships.

How incredibly short-sighted of me!

God really knows it all, my friends. I mean ALL of it. Even as I type out the things that have been doing laps in my head, I know that God is good. So when I felt the bitterness, I prayed. When I felt the misery, I prayed. I’ll do it all again the next time I come to it, too.

He is never too far nor too scared of our feelings for us to talk to him. He is so much bigger than what is in front of us. For all those who question, I’m praying for peace and hope for you, too.

the ability to process

It comes in waves. I can’t always see the onset of it, but it always comes in waves.

When you are an empath, there is nothing that stops the faucet of feelings you have every second of the day. Whether it is about a current event or remembering how you were affected by something seven years ago, you FEEL. It is a gift and a burden wrapped up in a package that looks just like me.

I often struggle with finding the words in real life to convey how I am feeling. I seek out the descriptors of emotions from the blood of the poets, their ink, to articulate my thoughts. Sometimes I find a friend in them. Other times, I wonder how I’ll ever be able to manage.

Have you, too, felt this way?

Inwardly wrestling against yourself and the need to know and understand so much that your body begins to shut down?

I felt this today, and with the current state of the world, I chose to back off. I opted out.

So many are calling this a privilege that I am using to avoid a situation.

I know I cannot be helpful in the way they so desire if I remain where I am.

Most importantly, I cannot hear God when I am busy trying to solve the world’s issues on threads of life. I have not met with him today. These words are the closest time we’ve spent together, but I know He is with me. He helped me get off of social media today. He helped me silently put it away and just be. I am here, breathing. Taking it all in slowly, and laying it right back down at his feet.

He is the only one who has ever helped me process my emotions. He is the only one who truly understands the weights I feel, and He is helping me see my priorities.

If I want to be a teacher, I must first be a student.

And, so, here I am.

A student.

I have absolutely no idea how to be “adequate” enough for anyone in the world who has an agenda, good or bad. I’m going to be authentic with all, vulnerable with a few, and raw with Him. This is my lesson, to sit and know him better that I may be able to share him with others.

This is a long journey. But I will see the fears I have of not being enough and raise them the fear that this just might be the best reason to keep going.

He is enough every minute of everyday.

Thank goodness.

when the wilderness is not a desert

It doesn’t sit with me, this idea that the wilderness is a desert. I mean, yes, it can most certainly be a desert, a desert of hopes, of dreams, of sins. Yet, I can’t help but feel in my soul that the rain is also a wilderness.

You see, I’m in the wilderness right now, I know it. The state of my soul has shown me that I am in the wilderness and that what I thought was a good season has not entirely passed, but the landscape shifted and I walked right into a place where I have felt alone, unloved, unnoticed, and beyond help.

If that isn’t wilderness I don’t know what is.

Continue reading “when the wilderness is not a desert”

thoughts on stuff cluttering your mind

In a season where things are changing and stirring within my heart, material things have been some tangible catalyst for grounding my anxiety.

This is slightly problematic, because all of those material things have been new ones that I’ve bought. It isn’t even that I don’t have the money for them, I just don’t have the money for them (if you get my drift).

I’m having to learn the value of stewarding my money well. In the past I’ve wanted to be this big-shot blogger who is in with all of the cool brands, going on all the sweet free or paid trips, and is speaking at big events.

Continue reading “thoughts on stuff cluttering your mind”