I was having such a great week. My break went fantastic, and the only thing that broke up my happiness was stress and the frustration that comes with it. No angst, depression, or anything. Now I’m back at school, and my sister is here. I love having her here, so I shouldn’t be so focused on how one person mistreats me, right? Right? But I am. This person is nicer to my sister, whom they’ve known for less than a day, than they are to me. It’s not fair. It’s not right. I’m not used to people not liking me….I was homeschooled, and most of the people I met seemed to at least like me well enough…now I’m doubting everything. I broke up with Ryan, and now I’m so terribly lonely. I feel like there isn’t anyone who cares. I know I tend to make all inclusive statements, so when one person acts like I should be somewhere else, I feel like everyone wants me somewhere else, you know? *sigh*
I’m so glad no one reads this. (While at the same time I wish someone cared enough) Lord sustain me!
"Do not fear; I will sustain you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
I’m tired all the time. I don’t know if I’m not getting enough protein, but even if not, it’s only part of it. The fatigue is soul-deep. I put on a brave face and smile, I pray and pray, but I still feel empty.
Don’t misunderstand me. I had a good day yesterday…until I got to my room and started over-thinking things. I do feel happy sometimes, but either it doesn’t last long, or it doesn’t go all the way through.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m complaining to myself. Tired of looking like I’m seeking attention. I just want some relief here. I am constantly on the verge of telling my friends: “I’m oversensitive; be careful.” But that sounds like I’m an attention whore and like I’m just being dramatic.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m emotionally spent, mentally exhausted, and all around weary. And I’m tired of pretending.
Last Wednesday, I considered going forward to ask for prayers, but didn’t because of fear of the “she’s just doing it for attention” comments, didn’t because I didn’t know more than the people I came with, didn’t because I didn’t feel like sharing my personal struggles with an impersonal crowd. I didn’t because I felt like even my friends would judge me. I know some wouldn’t, yes….but all of them? Not sure. So I wrote this on my iPod in response, thinking I would show it to someone, but I didn’t:
"I come not with a faith issue; I come with a relationship issue. I believe in Jesus, and that he died because he loves me. However, I am stuck in a rut of passive gratitude, and I don’t know how to love him in return. I ask that he help me fall in love with him again, that I care more about what he thinks than what others think, and beg him to let me see his Glory."
Later that same Wednesday was Clayton Chapel. Usually I leave these feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and on fire…but this one was different. I sat through song after song, waiting for my soul to be touched, aching for some reaction within me, but I just felt stagnant. I enjoyed the harmony, felt chills at the voices all lifting their hearts to God, but the tears I knew were there never surfaced. The emotion was absent, and that frightened me. So instead of feeling renewed, I felt panicked. I knew I needed prayer, but I felt like I was blocked off, like my prayers only went halfway.
So I grabbed one of my friends, and I think I scared him a little, and I asked him to pray with me. The only two questions he asked were: “Right now?” and “For anything specific?” I told him I had just been feeling so disconnected lately and didn’t know what to do. I know now that I had the wrong word; the word I wanted was "Weary." But he prayed with me, and I cried, and then I felt some better. I needed the extra lift of someone else praying to get my heart to Heaven’s door.
I’m weary of trying to insert myself into a group of friends that don’t seem to want me there. I’m sick from the effort. To be fair, it’s not all of them…but enough react with snappy comments, phrases that shouldn’t hurt but do, that each leave their mark. And I’m tired of it. I’m not mad, I’m lonely. I have friends, but they’re all busy. I ask to talk, then get embarrassed and let the time slide. And so I write this.
I didn’t want to put up some passive status on Facebook, some cry for help on twitter. I don’t even think people read my blog, which means I have a journal of sorts…and only those that care will ever know.
Is it wrong to want people to notice when I’m gone?