Saint Augustine of Hippo once said the following words in his seminal work Confessions:
But you, Lord, my god, give ear; look and see, and have mercy upon me; and heal me --you, in whose sight I am become an enigma to myself; this itself is my weakness.
Last night, that quotation described my inner turmoil before I went to sleep; but now I'm nowhere near as conflicted. I am a good person. I am here for my friends. I will never stop loving her, but it will change to a more sisterly love than anything else, and I will still always be an instant message or a phone call away. As I stared at a priest who doesn't know the whole story and confessed my sins of this week, as well as some of the things that were said on both sides, I thought he was going to die right there in the Confessional on me.
For so long, I was convinced that my feelings of despair and depression were all about me. I was partially right, and I will continue to work through those. But another part of them was that I felt I had failed the woman I loved by our breaking up; that I had somehow ruined her life by not being there for her later. I know now that she will be happy and will be taken care of, and the palpable relief of it is astounding.
Further...sometimes it's the little things in life that really make us smile and happy. Since Spring has come, I've been spending free time (little though it be) outside more and more often, enjoying the sunshine and the vitality of the newly green plants and the animal life all about. I've felt the warmth of the sun across my skin and had to smile that it was finally back after these past winter months where it's been only an occasional friend to us in the skies. Really, it's the little things: a bouncy ball, blowing some bubbles, playing with a frisbee, playing with my police stress car foam thingy, using the remote control on mom's car to lock it. They're all small things, but all have made me happy in this Spring season.
Today at Mass, I was sitting next to a woman with her three year old child. As everything happened, she was explaining the significance to him; when he tried to start yelling, she made him whisper, but still welcomed his questions. It was heartwarming to see someone taking the time to instruct their child that way, and it put a smile on my face when he toddled across the pew to shake my hand at the Sign of Peace. It's the little things, like the faith of a child.
I got to thinking about my last trip to Adoration, how I said I wasn't consoled for the first time ever. I never even gave Him the space to try to console me; I was angry, I was venting, even as I prayed for guidance and for forgiveness, I was railing at him with the fury of an angry child who has just been denied dessert.
What if I've just been so emotionally raw that in my sorrows, I've been pushing Him away even as a I cry for Him to come closer? I've been embraced by loved ones over these last six months, well a loved one at least; I've had friends online and in real life offer their support (regrettably at times by saying nasty things about her), but has that support really penetrated this wall I've thrown up around myself, trying to protect myself from the world? I think it has been kept at bay by my own insistence to work through and solve my own problems.
Perhaps my greatest inconvenience in my healing has been my own stubborn and solitary nature. Perhaps I should face that inconvenience head on, after all, the great thinker G.K. Chesterton once said, "An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered." Despite my solitary nature, despite my being a bit of a homebody at times (in spite of being well traveled), I love adventures. It's funny; I hate roller coaster rides, and that's what this has all been. Yet, I love other things that promote adrenaline; riding in the car with someone who drives fast, exploring new cities via the public transit system, riding at the fore of a speedboat to feel the wind and water whip across my face, riding the personal watercraft of relatives. Given the chance, I would sky dive in a heartbeat. But roller coasters, like this hardening and softening of my heart, of my wildly diffuse emotions, are something I can't stand; a long build up followed by insane turns and dips and going head over heels, only to face another short or long build up to be followed by more of the gut wrenching same.
I've definitely got a place at IUP, even if Josh finds nowhere new. I can do this. :)
I'm calm, I'm peaceful. I've seen a sliver of what the future holds...and that was enough. I'm here my Lord. You've shown that You can begin to heal me, now carry on, I'll not stand in your way any longer. What's more Lord, I can not do this alone, so please, listen to the prayers of others for me that I am assured are out there; I'll never refuse someone's intercession on my behalf. To hearken back to the dichotomy of today's Gospel reading, I want to be like the perfect Disciple, the beloved Disciple John who never questioned and stayed with Christ even through the Passion. I know though Lord, that I am more akin to Peter; flawed, quick to flee from You at times after stating I would die for You, and needing reassurance that I have been forgiven for my trespasses against You. If I might close this blog entry with one final bit of a request, it would be this: Just because I'm flawed like Peter, doesn't mean I need to die like Him. So please, don't end my life one day in the (hopefully far off) future by a violent act carried out because of my belief in You.
Pray for me everyone, please. That I can continue like this. It's nice to know the feeling of Hope again, and it's nice to look forward to the future and feel, finally, a positive outlook on what is to come.
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