Well, here is emotion:
For all of you who don’t know me, I have nothing to hide. I have become humbled by a lack of hope. If you do not wish to know my flaws and pains, read no further. For those who must know… they are right below.
I have become the main source of pain for the majority of my immediate family and to an extent my extended family.
I am disruptive and dysfunctional. I am greedy, selfish, ungrateful, spoiled, disrespectful, disobedient, spiteful, hateful, malicious, envious, depressed, angry, loathsome, unqualified, afraid, guilty, disappointed, disappointing, pitiful, ashamed, untrustworthy, difficult, frustrating, frustrated, so frustrated, unforgiving, proud, conceited, arrogant, vain, embarrassed, regretful, regrettable, childish, timid, scared, worried, stressed, stressful, confusing, terrifying, terrified, enraged, blind.
I am afraid of who I am, who I have become, and am too distraught to see where in the world I should even Start to change it much less shuffle off these mortal coils.
I once hated Shakespeare and still believe his works to be exhausting at times, but he nailed it on the head here:
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.
The fear of the Lord is working patience. He has saved me and that is my hope. He is what I cling to. I am trying to reach out to Him even when I can’t feel anything to grab onto.
The ridiculous part about all of this is that I could quote tons and tons of scripture to refute all of my worries and pains. He could take them all away simply by faith that He is true and He is larger than me and any of my problems. It’s funny- when you think your faith is strong and has been tested thoroughly, you can rest assured that your faith will always continue to be tested. Personally, I have never been a fan of tests. I prefer writing papers. That’s why I’m writing right now. If I can’t speak my faith, I can at least write it alongside all of the problems that God is capable of fixing in my life. I just wish that not everything that needs to be fixed would have to do with me.
How’s that one verse go? Oh yeah,
“Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up.”
WELL…. I suppose this could be a start. Who knows. God, help me.