In a comment, Dawn wrote, "You have more time to think, and this appears to be a regret for you."
Yes, very much so, and I was aware of it while I was writing. I don't like thinking so much about my life, and I'm trying to discover why.
Part of me feels I'm being melodramatic, that diving into my psyche produces some sort of masochistic pleasure. I should get over it, move on, grow up, get a life and stop moping around my house--or at the very least, get up and clean the house while I'm moping.
In a related thought, I wonder if I'm being narcissistic. How could any of the events of my life be worth this much time and energy? I could be spending my time on things and people so much more interesting and important than I am.
But then I get comments, emails and phone calls from my dear readers, and I realize that this isn't just about me. I realize that the crazy thoughts that zoom around my head are common thoughts. We all dig through the same muck. And yet I still regret the activity, though it be common and, dare I say, normal.
I regret time to think because it is uncomfortable. In my mind, contemplation leads to decision. Should lead to decision. So when I am left with lots to contemplate, but little to decide, I get frustrated and mopey. My thoughts travel old paths, and occasionally new paths that seem eerily familiar. I'd really like some new problems, because then at least I wouldn't be bored.
I am so tired of praying the same prayers. I've come to the point of praying, "OK God, remember that one time, in that one place, when I poured out my heart about this? Yeah, replay that, 'cause I don't have the passion or the commitment to pray that prayer again. But I still mean it."
Christ told us not to worry, and I think the mental cud-chewing I do falls in the same category as worry, although it is different. I'm not stressed out about the future, but I am utterly tired when I think of the months and years to come. I'm not excited about my future in a way that sustains me. I'm excited to see Alicia next week, and I'm excited to see where a mentoring project goes. I'm excited to see where my friends' lives go. But I'm not real excited about my own path.
I went to a wedding yesterday, and about three hours before the service a married friend of mine--20 years my senior--called to ask me if she could sit with me since her husband wasn't coming. I think she called because she felt sorry for the poor single girl, but she may have called because she doesn't often attend events like this alone and she wanted to make sure she didn't have to sit by herself. Either way, it was a reminder of how different my life is than that of most people in my daily life. It would never cross my mind to call to see if I could sit with someone at a wedding. I go to church alone, I go to the movies alone, I go to restaurants alone. Alone is how I live my life, and I am comfortable this way. Maybe not happy, but comfortable.
And that is why I hate summer. When I'm busy, comfortable is enough. Summer gives me enough time to realize that I'm sad. I'm sad to always be alone, and I hate that realization. There is nothing I can do about it. Lots of people like to believe that we can fall in love/get married just by following certain steps, but it's not true. Yes, I do believe that being a nice, mature, socially-active person helps in the love-game, but there are no fail-safes. There are no magic spells. Love Potion #9 is only a song.
My blog's title and subtititle both relate to what I'm thinking/writing. We are all on a voyage, and we must keep moving. I feel like I'm in the Doldrums--the often-stormless region of the Atlantic where sailors would wait for seeming-ages for a breeze to pick up and carry them on to swifter waters. My voyage has stalled, and I, like those bored sailors, despair of ever catching a breeze again.
Also, I can not bear very much reality. I regret time to think, because I must contemplate uncomfortable truth, such as: I am sad. So, here I sit, staring at the horizon, grumpy at the idea of my own sadness, waiting to catch a distracting breeze.
9 years ago
4 comments:
I don't have anything compelling or wise to offer you, but I do want to thank you for your raw honesty.
A lot of what you've described here is similar to my own sadness. When I have too much time to look inward, I fall into what I call "the abyss". I ask Dave often to not let me go there because it is usually fruitless. And I actively seek out those distractions.
Sidenote: are distractions healthy or are they replacements for whatever God has in mind for us to experience?
Being a stay-at-home mom gives me a lot of time to be in my own head. My own head is sinful and selfish, and a breeding ground for seeds of doubt that the devil all-too-often sows in me. It is my own current struggle. My best friend is struggling with sadness too, and she just had her third child. Marriage and kids are not exactly remedies for the deeply rooted issues we all have and try so hard to ignore.
(i say all of this in a ponderous way, not meant to be taken as judgmental or soapboxy in any way. it'd be easier to discuss it all face to face.)
After I posted, I realized that it could be read as if I think that love/marriage would fix my sadness. I don't believe that at all. I just tend to focus there in my loneliness.
We all have our griefs, and though they may appear very different on the outside, on a soul-level they are very similar.
As for your sidenote: I have no idea. I wish I did.
I think an awareness of "the abyss" makes me more compassionate, wiser and perhaps even healthier, but it is a bad, bad place to live.
When I finished writing this post, I felt happy and satisfied, like I had purged something. Still thinking about why, but maybe "why" isn't all that important.
I for one miss my days of loneliness, where with clarity the hours of silence and loneliness would push me into a sort of tepid bliss. There was so much potential then, so much fierce fire of longing for so many possibilities. I felt as if one spark from meeting the right person would upturn the world and restart the rollercoaster of love and life and meaning in the universe, with me riding in the front seat. It was agonizingly pure and wonderfully powerful, almost suffocating. Then I would sleep, recover, and lighten up for a day or two before the vortex caught me again.
So what then? Does he exist? The One, predestined from eternity, crafted on God's anvil from every wince and longing of my heart, gentle yet firm, wholly able to match me mentally, emotionally, and physically? Would this hero slay my dragon of loneliness and carry me off into that future land I desire?
No and Yes. Slay many dragons he did, the terrible ones from the void of loneliness, crumpled and gone forever. But many of those innocent, sparkly ones are gone away too. Many a backward glance, many a forward frown, all admixed with joy, regret, longing and satisfaction. So this is love lasting, love endured, love satisfied.
There is not room for loneliness now. There is no more time to follow the ripples of self-reflection on a long summer day. People need me now. My baby needs me with needs more pure and more practical than I shall ever have again.
What I wouldn't give for a distracting breeze right now, to carry me off to lonely places where the horizon hides nothing and shows nothing!
If I could trade places with you I would. The lessons would be invaluable. We would soon trade again, and again. Then, after a season, we would give each other that knowing smile and never turn back, fully embracing what God has given us and has not given us, for that is all we have.
I've just come out of 5 years living in the doldrums. 5 L-O-N-G years of the most excruciating emotional, spiritual, and even physical pain I have EVER experienced. So strange because it was filled with some of the greatest joys, an absolutely FANTABULOUS husband and 2(almost 3) pretty great kids.
The future looked so black and out of my control. NOTHING was in my control. What is my purpose, my ministry? Just tell me! This is just barely scratching the surface but part of the angst that consumed me for so long.
How did I step out of it? Don't know. No formula. One day the waves were crashing in on me and the next day I was walking in fields of clover. I remember the feeling of Someone removing the heavy, wet blanket that covered and bent me over. That boulder-filled backpack slipped off.
Why? No idea. What did He teach me? I don't even know but He certainly did change me. How? Don't know. Maybe that's the secret.
Is most of life spent in the doldrums? Waiting. I know all the right answers I SHOULD insert at this moment but it would feel very hypocritical.
What DO I know? He was there. He loved me. He had a purpose.
I look so forward to this part of eternity. Like listening to a love story of how 2 people met and came together. First you hear the woman's side, then the man's. He said this and she interpreted it as this and the man interjects that he REALLY meant this and back and forth. Getting all the details of this great romance.
Instead I'll hear Annie telling about her prayer that seemed to her fruitless and God interjecting, "But I heard and I did this. You just didn't see it!" And back and forth.
So many stories to be told. And I have REALLY rambled.
Thank you for sharing your story that at some level and in some way is familiar to us all.
Peace to you, Annie.
Debbie P.
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