Tag: childhood wounds
I think it’s kinda funny, since God can be a very humorous sorta deity, that the word “longing” makes up the majority of the word “belonging”.
I mean, isn’t that what we all long for, at least part of the time? We want to belong. We want to be part of something. We want to be accepted and loved. We long to BE.
I’ve spent most of my life not knowing where I belong, never being sure of myself. I was never gripped by a desire to do something so much that I “just knew” it was my “calling”, it was what I was supposed to do.
I’m sure that a lot of people who know me in real life may not think words like “insecure”, “doubting”, “confused” and “aimless” describe me, but they do. I mean, they sure describe how I feel about myself.
I hate the feeling I have when I’m chatting in a small group or even one on one. Before long, another person comes along and suddenly all attention is toward that person who (usually) I don’t know. It’s not that I’ve lost the person’s attention but that I sorta cease to exist. Maybe it’s just me. But I don’t know what to do with myself.
This happens on a pretty regular basis and it’s not with one particular person or group. And I don’t even think people realize that it bothers me. I feel like, “Okay…no one’s talking with me anymore. No one is including me in this conversation. Do I leave? I feel like I’m eavesdropping or creeping if I just hover around the outside of this circle. Do I say bye? See ya later? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” Most of the time, I’ll just wander quietly away, leaving the group or the other two people talking. Most of the time, I don’t think anyone notices.
I really need to know if I’m the only one this happens to. I mean, if not, then thank God and give me some tips on how to deal with it. But if I am “the only one” who experiences this, well shoot, that’s pretty doggone sad!!
So with that little glimpse inside my mind, you should get a sense of how I feel a lot of the time. Just insecure, uncertain if people like me, doubtful that they want to talk with me, confused about how I can feel this way but be able to get up in front of a roomful of people and give a talk.
I’ve pondered this a lot, as you might imagine. Why am I this way? Why do I feel so unsure about whether I am liked by others, whether I’m wanted in a particular group? The conclusion I’ve drawn is that I still carry a statement in my head that my mother said to me once. Don’t worry. This isn’t gonna become a mom-blaming post. I love my mom, but she said something to me once that I’ve carried with me. Well, no. That makes it sound like I choose to carry it. It has just followed me, stuck on a loop in my mind sometimes. Other times, I only hear it when something like the above situation happens.
I was probably around ten or eleven years old at the time. We were probably at a baptism or something after church. I remember being in a sort of overgrown area, gravel and bunches of Queen Anne’s lace and clover. Baptisms were done outside in the creek, of course! My closest friend had asked if I wanted to come play ball at her sister’s house with all her other siblings. She was the youngest of six so three of her siblings were already married and having kids. I went to ask Mom if I could go. She immediately said no, which was usual. We were never allowed to go many places without Mom being there, too. I protested and she said, “They don’t really want you over there. She’s just being nice and inviting you.”
At the time, all I remember feeling was fury. I was so mad at her for not letting me go. It wasn’t until decades later that I realized I still hear those words in my head whenever I’m in a crowd or trying to decide whether to go to a party or a shower or any sort of gathering. I hear, “You aren’t wanted in that group. Nobody really cares if you are there. They don’t like you. They won’t tell you not to come, but that’s only because it would look bad if they did. They just don’t want you.”
I would never tell my mom this. As a mother myself, my heart breaks when my boys let slip with something I said to them that was really hurtful. I don’t want to hurt her, so I would never tell her about this. (don’t worry. she thinks the internet is where the devil lives, so she’ll never find my blog or anyone else’s for that matter!)
Finally pinning down the root of this thing has been good for me. I’m not comparing my mother with satan, but these days when I hear those words, I know he is the one saying them. Sometimes it takes me awhile to realize after I’ve already let the sting of rejection wash over me, but I’m trying to get better at that.
That’s how I feel about my book. I get these nudges that I feel must be from God that I should write it and I feel that some of the things in it would be helpful for others who are struggling…be it depression or a marriage problem like we had or just knowing someone else out here has and is dealing with the same things. Then here comes that voice…“Why in the world would anyone want to read about you! laughter You’re nobody and your little life is nothing to be excited about. You can’t even put the words together anymore, so how will you do it anyway?”
Today, when my ancient laptop refused to boot up, I instantly started hearing “This is a sign that you should give up on the book.” I have my draft saved on here. Over 8,000 words that I worked hard to get out of me. The thought of doing it again was horrific! So, I am going to save my draft to a thumb drive. I know. It’s about time, right?Obviously, the hubby came home and “fixed” my computer with just a few keystrokes. I don’t ask questions, I just go with it. And I continue to ponder the latest sermon series at church…all about growth.
It has just been like an extra push when I’m sitting there listening and there’s scriptural confirmation that I need to “just do it”, as they say. This one really hit me hard…
“It is difficult to sense the presence of God in your life when you ignore the purpose God has for your life.”
The “main point” of becoming a Jesus follower is to lead others to follow Jesus. So in that way, we all know what our purpose is. We don’t have to wonder. Your way of leading people to Jesus is probably a lot different than mine. I feel like within that “main point” lies our purpose, our gift, our God-given talent. If we will focus ourselves on “the main point”, then our purpose, our “reason for being” will become clear. Does that make sense? For instance, if you have a musical talent, you can use that talent without the “main point” in mind or you can do what you love, what you’re best at, as a starting point to show others the love of Christ. Like if your gift was music…you could play and sing just any old songs, or you could use your talents to share Christ with people. See?
Okay, well I’m just going to hope this made sense to you. It seems to take me so long to get posts together anymore that I am writing a single post in two or more sessions and I lose my focus. I really hate that and am hoping to get past this soon. I have a ton of stuff to catch you up on but for now, I’ll close this one.
So I have thought for years about writing a book.
There. I said it.
Actually, I really did say it out loud in a Bible study at my church several weeks ago. The leader asked us about what we’d do that we had thought about for a long time but just never done for lack of time or courage or whatever.
That was mine. So, after praying on it a bit, a very little bit, I just sat down and started writing. I had over 2000 words by the time I quit that day. After sort of hitting a wall, I quit for about a week and then started again and now there are almost 10,000 words and a lot of wondering, doubting and frustration.
The lady in that Bible study asked me details…she asked if I wanted to write a novel and if i had a title in mind. I answered no the first question and yes to the last.
I’ve thought that a book about my life, the various medical situations and dealing with a chronic disease and depression might be interesting to some people and that it might help in some way.
Maybe you’ve figured out by now that I’m not really an ambitious person. I tried to be…back in “The Mary Kay Days”…I thought I could be a competitive sales woman. Yeah, I know…it was makeup and there have been MK ladies forever, yada yada.
I’m glad I tried that, but it definitely wasn’t for me. I feel like God probably used that time in my life to stretch me and show me some things about myself. I was so determined to be successful and it was hard and people would lie to you (not necessarily MK people, although some did, but potential customers and such) and I didn’t like the stress that made me feel. But that’s not actually why I quit, although it probably should have been. I had to get an unbelievably painful rash that made it impossible to wear clothes part of the time it hurt so bad. Then during all that, I developed a worse sensitivity to strong odors and chemical scents. Being all up in someone’s business while they are wearing perfume was no longer an option for me. I’ve spent the past year and a half dealing with all these new allergies and sensitivities, getting rid of chemicals in the house and all that. I really feel like that was God’s way of saying, “STOP” with MK. And ultimately, I had no choice.
One thing it did for me was make me have to set goals, which is something I had never done before. Honestly, other than small ‘to-do’ list type stuff, I’ve never set any grand goals in my life. I’d never really been encouraged to and I didn’t know how.
So like I said, this book thing has been in the back of my mind for probably fifteen years. It was like a joke I had with myself. I’d never told ANYONE about the idea because it seemed so ludicrous. So when I had to say it out loud, it kind of made it become a real possibility. I mean, I was sitting in a room with a doctor, a pharmacist, a teacher and writer, and several other women who had careers and families they were juggling. I felt so completely like the one thing that’s “not like the others…one of these things just doesn’t belong” (sorry, I had a Sesame Street flashback there) For me, doing this…
is terrifying. I become paralyzed and my mind goes blank.
But then I think wouldn’t it be encouraging for other people to know that life doesn’t have to end or be miserable when you have diabetes? Wouldn’t it help folks to know you can overcome the depression, even if it sometimes gets the best of you, you can still win? But there are many other things that have happened in my life and all those tend to work their way up through my story.
There’s the hurt and struggle of not being “the favored child” at home. The obvious preference given to my sister over me since we were children. There are the years, three or four of them, when my father’s preacher friend moved his family to our town and his son molested me repeatedly. And I never told anyone. Those are relatively minor things, I guess. I mean, in the big picture they are just a petty brushstroke, but they have made me what I am. They have shaped how I think and feel and how I see myself and others. I just imagine that finding out some of those things after years and years might be hard to take or hurtful.
Then there’s the act of actually putting into words the feelings, the hurt and wounds I carry. The reality of how my family will feel if they ever read my book. Thoughts like, “Do I leave out things that really matter because I might hurt someone’s feelings by telling how they hurt mine?” and “Do these things really even matter now?” go through my mind and now I’m once again stuck.
Fear speaks loudly in my mind… like I’m just wasting my time, why would anyone care about what I have to say? Even if I finished the book and by some miracle it was published, what kind of mess would it create with my family if they read it? Is telling MY story worth possibly hurting someone I care about?
Well, no, of course not. But then I think, Should I omit things because someone else might potentially have hurt feelings? Even when it’s true? Even when I’ve actually toned the whole thing down a lot already? When I’ve left out details that would make it sound a lot worse to others?
Argh! I drive myself crazy with these things!
I’m not sure what I will end up doing. I will keep working on the draft when the mood hits me, I guess, and see how the Lord leads me. He will have to direct me because I am completely stumped. I feel like the book could be so much more than just “how I live with diabetes and depression”…I want it to show the hope that I have in Jesus and to relate how it is ONLY by my faith in Him that I’ve made it this far. I want the book to reflect the life He offers, the peace He gives…but I feel like getting to that “chapter” is oh-so messy.
I just don’t want this to be true of me….
I can’t believe how fast this year has flown by! It won’t be long til “D Day” and some of the kids are already asking me what I want to do for it.
As usual, I say that I’d rather just pretend it’s not here, but that never flies with them.
I dunno why getting older is such a thorn in my side. I mean, I know we all hate that feeling of getting older, not looking or feeling as good as we used to, seeing our children grow up before our eyes. Maybe it’s hard-wired into our natures to regret the passing of time?
But then again, I’m not totally against it. As I’ve gathered more years to myself, I have realized that all the time I spent wishing I was older, “I can’t wait”-ing for my first-born to walk/talk/whatever…what a foolish endeavor!
How awesome would it be to actually be able to go back in time to our younger selves and give them a head’s up?
First, I’d tell Younger Me to learn patience. Don’t be so eager or insistent. Just let things happen, be prepared for whatever that is and enjoy each moment.
Then I’d tell Her to take better care of her health. Don’t see the diabetes as a curse or an enemy. Just accept it as part of the plan God has for you, then do all you can to be healthy. Don’t fall into that rebelliousness that makes you say, “Who cares?! I’m going to eat what I want, I’m going to ignore my blood sugars.” I’d try to impress upon Her how mad she will be once she’s older and realizes she could have done so much better. I’d tell her despite the non-athletic nature of her parents and family to be active. To learn the benefits of exercise and how to do it regularly. Oh, Younger Me, it sure would have made these days and our future feel a lot better if only you had learned that.
Get into the habit of reading your Bible. Maybe then we won’t have such a sporadic study time. Learn to pray. Yes, I know. You weren’t really taught that nor will you find a really good resource for this in your church or family. Dig into scripture yourself. Ask people who seem to have a great prayer life. Maybe they don’t know you need to be taught.
Granted, since I was able to make it to the altar with my virginity intact (yes, I’m serious) obviously we did a fair job of guarding our purity. But trust me, there will be opportunities when you can still let things go too far. Don’t think only “the home plate” is sex. All those other bases count, too. Let me tell you that years down the road, IF you attempt to “home base” now, the aftermath could be catastrophic. Even though you waited for marriage, there will be a long, rough road ahead for you sexually, but don’t give up. Trust me…it will be worth it. Don’t give up.
Don’t give up. Nope. Do NOT give up. Put that on a loop in your head. You will need to hear it OFTEN.
Don’t buy the fairy tale that everything will be better once you’re married. Your life is tough at home, I know, you feel ignored and discounted. You feel like your opinions don’t matter, your preferences are wrong, your ideas are stupid. But getting married won’t change that. Even though that boy you finally marry will be your biggest supporter in the years ahead, it won’t change the fact that your family makes you feel worthless. Learn to find your own self worth. Find it not only in Jesus, but in your abilities and strengths. Don’t throw those away just because they are not affirmed by your parents.
And then, when That Boy comes along who will fall for you immediately, don’t expect him to cure all your ills. Don’t expect that he can mend all the wounds you’ve accumulated to your heart over the years. Just love him better.
As for me, I regret the wasted time being mad at him for not “fixing” it all. You won’t realize that’s what you’re expecting, but it is. Your self worth will get so damaged growing up the way we did. Try and learn to lean on Jesus during those times. Don’t let the devil tell you lies about yourself. I know, I KNOW. It’s hard to do this as a child on your own, but try. Try harder than I did. Present Me is still fighting to deal with all the scars left by never feeling worthy.
Don’t let the betrayals of those you think are your real friends keep you from ever reaching out again. Maybe I should instead tell you to not expect everyone to be as deeply invested in the relationship as you are. Don’t toss your whole self into a friendship without measuring the other person’s dedication. Then, just be as good a friend as you can without expecting anything in return. That way, when they do hurt you, and they will, you won’t be quite as crushed. You won’t decide to lock everyone out and never find that ‘best friend’ you have always wanted.
I don’t think I’d have to say “Don’t worry about pleasing people.” because I don’t think we have a problem with that. I really need to ask one of my friends and see if that’s accurate. I mean, I don’t like letting people down once I’ve committed to something, but jumping through hoops just to make someone like me? I just don’t do that. But I think I will ask (and if any of the few who would be considered my friends are reading here, shoot, even if you THINK I’m your friend, chime in. send me a message or comment on this post!) …just to see if I’m anywhere close to right. I’m pretty sure that we don’t have to worry about being people pleasers.
Good job, Younger Me. You got one right!!
So what other things would I tell my younger self, the Younger Me? I dunno… but it’s something to ponder.
What would you tell YOUR younger self if you could?
Ecclesiastes 4:13 – “Better was a poor and wise youth than an old and foolish king who no longer knew how to take advice.”
So far, I’m kind of sucking at it.
Actually I have been writing some things in another document, fairly abbreviated, (but probably not abbreviated enough) for my therapist because I didn’t figure she wanted to read through my actual blog posts to try to figure out how I was feeling during the day and when. So I’m trying to sort out how to do this because I don’t want to let the blog go. I think it’s been good for me to get back into expressing myself this way.
Back in the day when I had a really active blog, writing posts about various things was really good therapy. Like I told my therapist I was all big-time. I had my own domain name, designed the graphics for my headers and wrote a lot of code actually. That was back in the day when my brain cells were a lot more effective than they are now.
Back then, I wrote a lot of funny posts –just my crazy take on things and silly stories from my life and homeschooling the kids. I enjoyed being able to make people laugh and playing with words and explaining things in my own unique way, I guess. I probably did this for maybe five years and after a while it got to where I just couldn’t put my thoughts together as well anymore. It became a struggle to get a post together that I was satisfied with so I just let the blog go. I let my domain name go and I just stop blogging altogether for quite a while.
Over the years, I tried to start back… using sites like Blogger and WordPress, but I could never get “my groove” back it seemed. It was frustrating and disappointing.
I think my need to write my feelings down comes from the fact that I have a hard time verbalizing them. As a kid, whenever there was something my parents needed to “have a talk” with me about, it usually consisted of them talking (preaching, criticizing, chastizing) to me and me sitting there in tears. Mom especially would bemoan the fact that I never talked, never expressed any opinions or thoughts to them in these “sessions”. The reason why is that once in the past, I HAD actually spoken and told them how I felt only to be told I “didn’t need” to feel that way or I “shouldn’t” think like that. So my thoughts and opinions were negated and I never again expressed myself to them.
As a teenager, I used to keep notebooks, diaries or journals, whatever…I had several of them full of my thoughts, worries and dreams…mostly thoughts and worries. Honestly, I never wrote much about dreams. I just don’t recall ever having a whole lot of them or at least never really fleshing them out. But one day my mother went searching and found them. She let loose on me and all heck broke loose.
I took them outside and burned them all and stopped writing. It seemed, for several years, I had no outlet at all for my feelings. Looking at it now, it was really an awful time in my life, but I don’t recall getting “in the dark hole” over it. Perhaps because I did usually have some boy in my life to consume my time. I say that like I had a new one every week (HA HA!) but I promise you it wasn’t like that. It’s just that there was always someone, either a flirtation or a steady, who occupied my time and thoughts, so I guess I didn’t have time to sink into a hole over not being able to get my feelings out, ya know?
So now, writing my feelings is much easier. Mostly because if I cry while writing, it doesn’t interrupt the expression as bad as if I am trying to say how I feel while bawling. That seems to mess things up entirely. That’s why I have often written letters to Tommy or other people in my family. Tommy is about the only one I ever actually GAVE the letters to, and then he would be blindsided by all my emotion pouring out because I had had time to think and sort them when he had no clue what was going through my mind. (I did NOT always realize this, however, so it made for some tense arguments when he didn’t response “appropriately” *sigh*) And honestly, part of the problem with all the letters to Tommy was the simple fact that he DIDN’T have a clue. But that’s a whole ‘nother post. *grin*
Anyhow, I’m slowly getting better, more acclimated or re-acclimated, to writing about how I’m feeling, what I’m thinking.
If I can just figure out how to balance the whole logging stuff for the therapist and blogging, I’ll be doing great. Maybe I can just give her the web address for my blog? I don’t even know if she would be interested in that or if it would help her in any way.
I’ve found that I’m not always as clear as I should be. For instance, we had been talking for quite awhile about all the stuff I told you about here, and then later, I mentioned the pain in my shoulders and neck. She was like, “So you’re having pain too?!?” saying how that can worsen depression as well and I was like DUH! why didn’t I think of that!?!?? It’s so much a part of my life, I don’t think about how it affects me, ya know? So maybe in reading this stuff, she might sort out or pick up on some things that I don’t get out while I’m talking with her. I dunno, but I’ll ask her about doing that next time.
I sorta thought about just copying my notes here, but you (all one or two of you that ever read this! ha ha!) would die. They are very choppy and poorly constructed…not even sentences sometimes. I dunno if my therapist will even be able to use them! *gasp*
She mainly wants to be able to look at how I am feeling day to day AND if there is a pattern in what time of day I’m feeling better or worse. That will help if they need to change how I’m taking my meds or if I need to do something different. It makes sense, I just can’t make sense of how best to do that.
Always complicated with me….I think it’s part of how making decisions is harder for me while I’m depressed. Honestly, it’s a thing! And something as simple as deciding how to log my moods is becoming a stressor! I will figure it out, I mean, it’s not major, but it is a thing. Always a thing. Ha.
So, just for the record, I have been waking up feeling a little less groggy…not sleeping nearly as much during the day (not at all the past couple days because I’ve had appointments) but not being super energetic either. I would SO love to feel energetic!! Another thing.. the past couple days I have gone to bed before 11 pm, which is a BIG step for me. I had been staying up til at least midnight. And I’ve gotten up by 9 am (except for one day) every morning since Monday. I will take that. Any improvement is better than none, right? My biggest thing is that I don’t get up right away. I’ll wake up, look at my phone for awhile. Sometimes either mom or the hubby will call me during that time, so I’ll talk with them. But I am trying to make sure I’m getting my meds in before 10 am. Maybe that’ll be good enough.
I have some stuff to report about my visit to the GP last Tuesday too, but I’ll save that for another post.
Okie doke… gotta get up and move. My neck is KILLING me!! If you read this, pray for me when you think of it. I don’t share this blog just because I’m using it to work through so much personal stuff, but for the minuscule few of you that do read here, I appreciate you. PLEASE leave me comments?? I’d appreciate that too.
This scripture came to mind when I think about my thoughts and feelings not being “acceptable” to my family… *sigh*
Genesis 37:8 — “His brothers said to him, “Are you indeed to reign over us? Or are you indeed to rule over us?” So they hated him even more for his dreams and for his words.”
I started thinking about a post the other day. But it included using the word “friends” in the context of the way I used to think of friends when I was in high school. And honestly, I didn’t really have friends in high school. I knew people and was friendly with some people. I tried to be nice to everyone, but to say I was “friends” with someone meant something totally different to me then.
By the time I got to high school, I’d had several people I thought were my friends treat me really bad and so I was very slow to give someone the title of “friend”. Very slow.
To me, a friend was someone you loved spending time with, someone you could be yourself around and not have to worry about everything you said or did being misconstrued or turned into an offense. It meant you could count on that person to “have your back”, to not spread rumors about you or desert you when you needed them. It meant that if they came up on some people talking bad about you, they’d be the one who took up for you, who would set the record straight…not just walk on by or even worse, join in with the group.
As a young child, I can remember a few “friend events”. This refers to an afternoon or perhaps a couple of days spent in perfect camaraderie with someone. These were hours spent playing and laughing that you might dream about days later. The time spent was that good.
I learned rather quickly though that just because I’d spent that one afternoon a few years ago in perfect sync with someone did NOT mean they were my friend or that they’d even still like me in a different setting with different people around.
For me, at that stage in my life, that was SUCH a shock! I just was not wired that way. If I liked you, I liked you no matter who was around or what was going on. But I soon learned that was dangerous on my part. That you couldn’t just be all “out there” with people because they would rip you to shreds.
So, as I entered high school, I really didn’t have any close friends. As I continued on through those monumental years, I did have several people who I got close to, who I considered (and still do) friends, but it wasn’t a close, deep friendship that I longed for. It was never a “best friend” relationship.
And maybe that’s where I get this feeling (that still plagues me today) of not being wanted or loved or liked.
Let me state that this is NOT a post to bash my mother. However, it’s recently come to my realization that something she said to me once and then insinuated other times in my childhood has colored my whole view of who I am and how others see me.
One of the few people I DID consider a “best friend”, at least for a few years when I was in grade school, was a girl whose family went to the same church we did and we spent a lot of time together on the weekends. She was about 3 years older than me, so we didn’t go to the same classes, but weekends were always spent together. And this friend had asked me to come home with her for some kind of whole-family thing.
Unlike me, she was the youngest of a family of six kids. I was the oldest in a family of two girls. We were total opposites, but I loved the atmosphere in her family. It was so totally different and I was treated like “one of the gang”.
I know my mother had my diabetes to consider when letting me go and do things, but this was different. I’d spent the night with this family dozens of times, but when I went to ask her if I could go, Mom said, “They don’t really want you to go.”
I don’t think I actually realized it then, not in the chaos of the situation or the feeling of unfairness because I wanted to go so bad and also the crying that I had to do then because I wasn’t being allowed to go… but every time I re-live that moment, those words, now it’s like a sharp slap across the face.
And I realize that I feel that way SO often when I’m in a group of people. If there is the least bit of talk that’s “prior history” for the rest of the group, I will instantly back away. Even if the talk isn’t purposely to exclude me, I will feel as if it is. And I will hear those words, “They don’t really want you.”
I hear that sometimes when my husband tells me he loves me and I’m feeling particularly unloveable. I hear it when my grown sons tell me they love me. I hear it when a friend offers to pick me up to go to lunch or something.
And I KNOW it’s the devil or satan or whatever you want to call him. I just know that it comes from the enemy of my happiness. The enemy of my closeness to Christ. He will even go so far as to whisper it in my ears when I want to spend time in Christ’s presence.
During this last, most horrible phase of the depression I found myself pondering death. Not contemplating it, but just thinking about how nice it would be to just “go on”. And those words came…“What in the world does God want with you? He doesn’t want you either.”
Annnnd, there went my “clinical composure”. Out of all this thinking and writing about one of the most painful aspects of my life, the tears never stung my eyes til now.
And that’s what satan wants when he whispers such horror into my head. But I know The Truth. His name is Jesus. So take that, you wicked creature!
I still have a lot of trouble dealing with that mindset that people don’t really want to be around me. They’re not really my friend. I’m not really wanted in the group. I’m not really liked by those people.
It’s a constant thing for me to fight against and in a world where it’s hard to read people and they DO tend to let you down or leave you behind, it’s really REALLY hard to keep my head on straight where this particular lie comes into play.
I’m just thankful God didn’t leave me in that lie. In the huge vat of that lie where I had been floating for months and was fully convinced that no one wanted me at all. I’m thankful He didn’t give up on me and put others in my life who didn’t either.
God’s so incredibly good!!
[ADDENDUM] As for my definition of friends, as I alluded to in that first paragraph, and how I view the word now… I have friends now. I have some GOOD friends. They will call to check on me if I’m scarce on Facebook or if they hear I’m under the weather. They will even come by to see about me or bring food or other sweet gifts if I’m sick. (and I have one friend who is so precious, she will bring gifts for no reason at all!) I have one friend who was so sensitive to what was going on with me that she insisted I follow her to a quiet room, away from a crowd at an event at camp where I was working, and she promptly sat me down, knelt and untied my boots and massaged my feet because she could see how bad I was hurting. So God has been good to me. I have some amazing, awesome friends!
And after all that, I still listen to that voice, that lie that tells me no one loves me. When I am feeling analytic and take time to ponder this, I wonder why it is so easy for me to believe that. Is it because that has been ingrained in my mind? Is it because I feel unlovable? Is it because I don’t much love myself?
I honestly don’t know at this point. But when I figure it out, I’ll be sure to let you know.
Zephaniah 3:17 — “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”