There is a conflict between having so much to think about, so much to process or talk through, yet having no action of release to express it all.
I could have been writing these past few months. There are certainly many things to say. Not necessarily to be heard by anyone else, but for me to grasp, understand, comprehend – which I usually do through words and writing.
A friend made a comment on a note I had written two years ago (via Facebook). It caused me to go back and read it (for I have since forgotten), and it resonated with me too. Funnily enough. Especially with the thoughts that have been swirling lately. While not directly identical to this, they are along the same lines and topic. I’ll paste it here. Maybe it will resound with you as well. If so, please feel free to share a thought or reaction. I am always learning and appreciative of opinions and insights far beyond my own. I sincerely pray that your days are filled with joy and revelations of how the Lord dearly loves you.
Not long ago, a question was asked. “What could you do to be a better friend?” Simple enough. Not provoking too intricate an answer, not anticipating more than a sentence, maybe two. It wasn’t even directed at me specifically. Still, it got me thinking. I didn’t speak up that night, because again, it wasn’t really for me. There is probably so much I could do. Though I like to think my friends do not have many complaints with how I treat them. If so, I’m in severe need of a sit-down. But there is something that has been culminating in the back of my mind for an undeclared amount of time: I need to trust my friends more.
I say this because I am categorically better equipped to listen to others share themselves and talk about what’s on their minds or going on in their lives, than I am at unfolding the details of my own self. Some people who meet me for the first time, or know me for the introductory short while, may have a hard time agreeing to the fact that I have any trouble opening my mouth to speak. However, those people I have probably yet to get to know much deeper. It’s likely still a surface-level relationship. Surface-level is my least favorite place to camp, yet I would still 99 times out of 100 rather hear about your inner-workings than mine. It’s a trust issue. It’s a fear issue.
For those of you who may be opposite of me here, and thus are probably reading greek right about now, let me try to explain it better. I can think of little more in life, which holds the personal level of fear, doubt, or loathsome anticipation than stepping over the fence to the struggle, the corners, the hidden portions of a multi-faceted self. It’s easier to be just the funny one, or the upbeat one, or even the loud and annoying one. These are one dimensional. Easier to digest, to define, to categorize and put in a four-corned box – pegged. Again, it’s a double standard, for I have yet to wince when entrusted with details of another’s past, background, experiences or thoughts. Nothing thus far has phased me or caused me to see someone in an altered light after being honored with the knowledge of who they truly are and what has formed them. There is little that surprises me. Still, I shudder at divulging my own. I cannot fully understand why, except the unflattering explanation that perhaps I don’t trust people enough. Now, how fair is that? But does anyone understand what I’m trying to say? The complexity of seeing others as more worthy than oneself? This truth molds my behavior. Its consequence can provide a rather lonely composition.
It’s easier to concede to the lies, and thus continue the path of ambiguity. The whisper that “no one really cares to know you better.” That “you’re a bit too much, so try to keep it toned down, go along, nod and smile.” That “you are far less pleasing when you show the complications of personality. Stick to happy-all-the-time. Stop showing too much emotion. People frown on that and write you off in the long run because you have too much on your sleeve.”
I could go on. But I’ll continue the cycle and desist while I’m “ahead”.
Happiness depends on the things we tell oneself to believe. Right?
I know the truth. I know the Truths. Life looks much better in the light. It is warmer in the glow of The Light. I do know this. I do feel this. It’s how I marvel those who can walk through this life without the grace of The Savior and The Father and The Spirit. I cannot comprehend it. Not at all. For it is my very breath. My exhale, my inhale, my steadiness in a sea of turmoil. Thus, I am at peace. Yet I am also a work-in-progress. I cannot deny that. I shouldn’t. Yet knowing the peace, and learning to rest are not the same. I’m still learning the day-to-day. I know I’m not alone in that, even if some days it can deceivingly feel as if I am.
“As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the livingGod. When can I go and stand before Him?” (Psalm 42:1-2)