Wednesday, January 25, 2012

"Memory Lane" has a Deceivingly Pleasant Connotation

I've got a journal full of blog post material for my Engel reading which I did this morning.  I opened up my laptop ready to begin putting my written words out into the blog-o-sphere world, but a detour was headed my way.  Before I clicked "new post", I decided to check my blog's stats to see which posts people are reading.  Well, a long-ago post had recently been visited, which drummed up some curiosity to go back in time and re-read some of my own history myself.  I am now sitting here with a mouthful, mind-full, heart-full of emotions and memories that must be released.

Beach Love
June 2010.  I met a guy, quit my job, moved to the beach to live with him, and enjoyed a few short months of love and spontaneity before everything came crashing to a terrible end.  After the relationship abruptly ended, I found myself broke and jobless with no where to go except my parents' couch back in my hometown.  I had completely alienated the few friends I had in the city from which I originally lived, and I felt very alone.  Thinking back on this time, I say to you this was one of the roughest times in my life.  I didn't have my own place, I didn't have a job, and another relationship had ended due to a night of drunken chaos.  I was embarrassed, ashamed, and depressed.  I had no idea where my life would go.  It seemed down was the only option.

As I type these memories, I find myself crying for many reasons.  Tears of sadness for that lost girl following the relationship.  Tears of mourning the fairy-tale I was living and thought could exist forever.  Tears of realization for the lost, wandering girl before the relationship even began.  The time between the two losses brought so much clarity and closeness to God.  In one blog post, dated June 21, 2010, I write,
"I thought about God constantly today, how He brought me to where I am today, how He gave me the courage to take this gigantic leap into living life to the fullest. As big of a step it was to relocate to the beach with a guy I've known for a month, I feel so calm and at peace with my decision. much as I believe this guy is "the one", if for some reason it doesn't work out, I know I will be okay. I know I will be peaceful and content because I hold these states of being inside of myself, and they are unshakeable. I am certainly a survivor, and this survivor is loving her life!"
only a sad human will face the sea for that longImmediately after the breakup, I never thought I would "be okay", "be peaceful and content", because these "unshakable states of being I held within myself".  These positive words were so easy to live by when everything was going perfect.  Each night as I laid in my make-shift bed in the house of my unsupportive parents, my inner state was fragile and dismembered.  Emotionally, I was taking one step forward and two steps back.   I would be okay one minute and then suddenly I would be angry and bitter for the mess I put myself in.  The only thing that kept me going were phone conversations with my counselor and my "survival mode", which was cranked at full speed.  I had to find a job and I had to find one quick, so I did.  I was told I had to find another place to live as to appease my stepmother (insert explicative here), so I did.  The "so I did" part involved a lot of tears and took a lot of strength, strength I wouldn't have known I had unless I was in the situation I was in.  The emotional steps backward eventually lost their stride, and not long after moving "back home", I found a place to live, a roommate, and a job I enjoyed.

It's been about a year and a half since the times I just spoke of, and I have mixed emotions about everything that happened.  Reading my blog posts in the months leading up to the big beach move, it's so apparent that I was lost and depressed.  I was searching for myself, but instead found a guy who I thought would solve the puzzle of my life.  Going through my blog posts of my time at the beach is a bit entertaining as well, I have to admit.  I was living the American dream!  My words during that time were filled with such certainty and hope and freedom, and every day was so exciting.

I do still feel like God led me to and from the places I found myself in 2010, and I definitely think God has one heck of a sense of humor.  Some days I feel like that lost girl wandering in and out of a relationship, some days I feel like that head-over-heels, not-thinking-straight hopeless romantic who is excited about life, some days I feel unshakably peaceful and content.  The one constant is me, my soul, the authentic person God formed me to be.  I must stay true to this. can't say for sure that this experience made me stronger; yes, I tapped into strength I didn't know I had but I don't feel any better or mightier, and I don't think I'm any more equipped to handle painful situations because of it.  I can't say I believe in love any more or any less or can say with conviction that it's a good idea or bad idea to uproot your life for another individual.  What I take away from this experience is just that -- experience.  It's another leg of my journey completed, another story I can share with others (particularly girlfriends after a sad movie and lots of chocolate), another spec in God's overall purpose for my life and the lives of others.

My journey is my own, and at my journey's beginning and ending is God.  The middle I'm unsure of, but it's certain to drop bombs and surprises along with lots of pain and joy.  But He knows why I am where I am; He knows why I've been where I've been; He knows where I will go when I go there.  Beaches and boys are fun, but God is my father so it's Him I will follow.

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