I haven't written a blog in a while. But there was purpose behind that: 1. One of my friends hates the idea of people writing about their feelings and he says its a waste of time (can you guess who it is Kim??) and that has somewhat affected me in wanting to write anything about how I am doing. 2. this one is stupid but lately All I've been wanting to do is write about God! Write about Jesus... and I've been afraid to do that. Afraid that people will see me as some Jesus freak and tune out entirely... But I became so convicted this morning... If my God decided to just stop interacting in my life- stop talking to me or guiding me, I would feel hurt. I would be devastated and angry. So, my ignoring to acknowledge God interacting in my life as a normal part of my day must only seem as being hurtful to my God! I'm not going to be afraid to write about him any longer. Who cares if every one of my post has a scripture in it or has me contemplating about Who God is and what he...
Lately I've been riled up with a lot of emotions. Being in a relationship is definitely bringing out some qualities that I never really liked about myself, or thought I'd have to face so often. I love being in one, I really do, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if I'm supposed to be in one at all. I have set unfathomable expectations that would leave a telepath with a befuddled look upon their face. I'm not as good at talking about my emotions as I thought I was. Giving form to my frustrations is, well frustrating. Let me at least try to do that here: I hate being the butt of your vengence (literally) I feel that there is a double standard when it comes to my time- I'll wait on you, I'll assist you, but when it comes to me there is always a "15 mins" only- or a rushing because you need to get somewhere or accomplish something. you set your rules for me in the car, in your room, and in your bathroom and I can't help but feel scolded for...
I used to believe that taking anti-depressants for the rest of my life was the part that hurt the most in regards to my affliction. Now that I've gone without them for an extended period I've come to understand what hurts the most is having the capacity to understand what happened to me, the primitivism of it all. Most days I feared for my life from physical threats: Gangs on bus rides, my father's hands, and the aftermath of an anticipated murder of my Mother-the consequences which would ultimately be endured by two blameless children. Call those average Tuesday thoughts. Yet as I fly 30,000 feet over stark white precipices of the Rocky mountains on a return flight from a meeting where I hold a national position, I select through online proofs of a man adorned in doctorate gowns- a symbol of the upper echelons of society. I'm reminded of the profound mountains moved by a mighty God, my friends, and myself to be that man. The irony now is how I continue to fear my lif...
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