"Listen to the words that others can't speak; speak the words that others can't hear."

Monday, January 31, 2011

I smiled like I never have before.

     Have you ever had a falling dream? Not the kind where you fall and hit something, instead the kind where you fall, and you fall.... and you fall. The kind where you get so tired of falling that you wish to wake up in a panic because falling just isn't fun anymore. That is the same kind of plummet I recently had in my life and, worse, in my faith. 
    For those of you that have never had a dream like that, close your eyes and imagine your body and soul seperating from each other. Your body moves on and keeps doing the daily tasks while your soul sits and waits for something to happen. You get tired, so tired. Still, you keep on moving. You keep on doing what you know is right and you hope that something finally does happen.

Something happened.

     To be quite honest I prayed my little heart out when I first started to feel myself losing control. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, but it seemed like the more I prayed, the further I would fall. Once I realized prayer wasn't helping me I simply gave up, kept going through the motions but wasn't feeling the emotions. Being who I am, I didn't ask for help. I have plenty of people who love me, care for me and would LOVE to help me, but I am Isabella, I can do it all. 
     As it turns out, I'm not as strong as I thought I was and well, I can't do it all. On Wednesday at Bible Study we talked about how sometimes being faithful mean't going through the motions; "Fake it till you make it" or "Faith it til you make it" would be a favorite of others. On the way home I let my guard down and I cried. After I was done crying I prayed, and after I thought I finished praying I did a combination of the two, a task that is a lot easier said than done while driving down a busy street. In the end, I still felt that the glass was only half full. Sure, it was a relief to cry and let me be me in front of my Creator, but I still carried a hole in my chest and I still was falling.

     I'm the type of person that never asks for a hug, afraid that if I get a 'no' I wouldn't know how to react; instead, I give hugs and hope to get a good one in return. I noticed myself giving many hugs after Wednesday night. By the time Saturday came around I was back to praying daily, asking God to help me. Yearning to feel whole again, hoping for a better tomorrow. 
     I woke up Sunday morning and said to myself and to Him:
Lord, I cannot live like this any longer. Going through the motions isn't good enough. I will live for you, I can't see you but I know you are there. Fill me with Your Holy Spirit in order to make it through this day and please, please give me a sign. Let me know that you are with me!
     Considering that I was in the shower I didn't exactly expect an angel to come down and tell me to snap out of it, but I didn't expect to feel as bad as I was feeling after I had, what I thought, was a pretty intense and intimate moment.

    The day went on and I found myself laughing more genuinely and not having to force smiles and kind words. I caught myself being me again. It scared me to an extent, but I welcomed it with open arms. Sunday night when I got to church I said a quick prayer for one of my students and I thanked God for a decent day, pleading for many more.

     As it just so happens, God never let's his children down, and halfway through the Mass He gave me the answer I wanted.

   I have no words to describe the feeling I had.

BUT I will give it a try.

     I have a learned habit of always looking up at Jesus on the crucifix when the priest is going through the Liturgy of the Eucharist. When transubstatiation is taking place I believe I was taught to pay attention to the bread, but I've always found it more comforting to look at Jesus himself. Yesterday, I sat there the entire time praying for redemption and wishing for an answer. When I looked up at Jesus on the cross I got chills, chills like I never felt before. I looked away and back again and got chills for a second time. I looked around to see if anyone else felt as weird as I did but no one seemed to notice anything. I looked for a third time and again, I got chills, this time they started at the very top of my head and went down to my toes.

I smiled like I never have before.

     It felt like my smile was coming from the very bottom of my soul. I couldn't control it and I didn't know what to do. I wish I could explain that feeling but honestly I, 'the writer', can't put it in words. It felt like my insides were jumping with joy and I no longer felt empty.

      Although I no longer feel empty inside, I know I need to set some time aside for me and the Big Guy up there. At work today a customer saw that I was struggling with a shelf and she said, "Do you need me to help?"
      "No thanks, ma'm I got it. My arms are just getting tired, that's all." I replied.
     "Alright, just remember, there's nothing wrong with asking for help every once in a while. There's absolutely no shame in that."

     Now there is that possibility that I am looking into this too much, but then there's the chance that I am not. All I can say is that God sure does have a funny and AMAZING way of showing how much he really cares and how he is always here. Always.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

This is my public apology.

Many people have said that excersice relieves stress. I've tried that; it doesn't work, not for me. Others have said to vent. Venting is.. venting is great but does not provide the type of satisfying relief I'm dying for. Dying for. I don't know what to do anymore. I turned to friends, friends that are as confused as I am. I turned to journaling, counseling, God. No answers. Empty. Hurt.

I sat in my car today. I just sat for ten minutes. I prayed that things would be normal. I came home to crying, screaming and an unwelcoming and thick air.

I work to forget. I work hard to forget. In fact, I push forty hours a week, full-time. I go to school full-time. I volunteer, go to church, lead at church. I work hard to forget... but I don't.

I wake up sweaty, shaking. Not knowing. Fearful.

I ignore the truth. My friends. My family. My sister. I ignore. And I'm sorry.

Everything keeps telling me to hold on; white-knuckling through life doesn't fix anything but it's a start.

I'm not ready for a relationship when it's hard to keep friends. Not ready.

When will I be ready? When? So many questions. No answers. No. Answers.

I'm confused tonight. Confused more than ever.

This is my public apology. If I've hurt you, ignored you, scared you.. I'm sorry. This isn't me, I don't know who this is but I'm better than this. I'm trying to figure things out. I hope you can forgive me.


There's always hope.

"But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you."
Psalm 39:7

Although this blog entry sounds depressing, and in a way it is, I hope it also comes across with a bit of joy. Everyday is bran new and my faith is everlasting. Full of fear I face tomorrow, hoping sorrow's just passing through.