Dear God, Did You Forget About Me?!

Apr 26, 2012 | 10 comments

I’m not one to publicly complain or let others in on my troubles. I figure the world has enough problems, big and small, and my job is to make the world a better place… even if that means just keeping my mouth shut.

But a few times, I’ve seen this linky badge on Jenn’s blog and I’ve read what other people have to contribute. I admit, I admire having a Sanctuary of Sorts where fellow bloggers can go and expose their real self as opposed to the sometimes somewhat reserved public persona we display in our writings.

Granted, our blogs are mostly authentic. We wouldn’t be successful if they weren’t. But there’s still a part of me, a very private part of me, that I rarely let out.

But it’s been one of those weeks where I’ve avoided my Friends. We all have them: those people who can look us in the eye and we absolutely can’t ignore or lie to when they ask, “How are you doing?”

That’s not the Joey Tribbiani smooth chant, “How you doin’?”

I’m talking about the get-real, get-deep, and get-honest, “How are you doing?”

There’s only so many times I can hide, or recount my woes, without feeling sorry for myself.

And that’s not what I’m trying to do here. I’m not striving for attention. I’m also not trying to put on a brave face and act like everything’s ok. I’m not broken or shaken to my core. I’m just somewhere in between.

That’s it! That’s exactly where I am:

I’m in limbo.

And it sucks.

I know God loves me intimately. He has taken care of my family in ways I can’t even explain. He is faithful in keeping all the promises He has made to and for me.

And I feel really selfish and guilty for putting this out there… but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.

Sometimes, I want more. Sometimes, I get jealous. And angry. And upset. And I cry. I cry a lot. I wish I wasn’t a crier, but I am. And that, too, sucks. Because it’s utterly embarrassing to be in the store and walk away from something with tears and a tight throat because I have to decide between an extra gallon of milk or a bag of popcorn kernels.

People I know have jobs, have relationships, have dates, have money to do things. Is it too much to ask for some jaw-dropping, never-thought-it-could-happen-to-me joy? What’s wrong with me, that everyone else is getting what I want?! Okay, not everyone-everyone. Just… everyone. At least the majority. Maybe three out of five.

Is it really all that wrong to want to be noticed and appreciated? To be able to do for my family what other Heads of Households get to do for theirs? Is there any time, any time, in the near or even distant future when I can actually have a savings account worth anything?

I’m so tired of planning out every drive around places we have to go; and how to get the most mileage around town. I can’t see you today, because visiting a friend just isn’t on my route. It stinks!

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. But writing doesn’t pay the bills… yet. And I can’t find a day job that will. I’m great in interviews. But the job offers themselves just aren’t around. Because I’m unemployed, people take that to mean I’m unemployable. How is the economy at large, the lack of business income, my fault?! How is the fact that my previous employer didn’t know how to manage the business and balance the books and sign new contracts my fault?!

And why can’t I write for a living?! Why does being a successful, marketable writer mean having a publisher, which you can’t get unless you have an agent, which you can’t get unless you’re marketable, which you can’t be unless you’re already being marketed, which you can’t be unless someone takes a chance, which they won’t because you haven’t proven yourself, which you can’t do because…

Why can’t I catch a break?!

I’m tired of waiting for the rest of the world to know what I’ve already learned! That life is worth taking chances. That life is good. That fundamentally, we’re all going to be okay, even if right now we don’t know what the definition of “okay” is!

And then, of course, I vent and get embarrassed that I even felt this way to begin with. Because ultimately, I am okay. I will continue to be okay.

But now and then, I wonder if God has forgotten about me because I’m not the squeaky wheel. If I throw a tantrum, will He notice and take care of me? If I cry harder, will He comfort me? Why are prayers being answered for other people and not me?

I asked Him that the other day. To which He replied, “You never really asked.” Ouch. Ouch. Ouch! But He’s right. I talk about God an awful lot, and sometimes to Him, but I’ve lost the ability to talk with Him.

I’m a failure. I don’t deserve the things I want. I mean, really. How much effort am I putting into achieving my goals? I thought I was trying, even striving. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.

Maybe I’m just a failure.

But, no. That can’t be it. Because I’ve accomplished some pretty neat things lately like writing, publishing, and selling a Cookbook. I make ends meet each month. Barely, but they do meet.

Gah. I’ve even failed at being a failure.

Oh, God!

So this is me. Confessing that I am guilty of using God as a safety net. Of throwing emotional tantrums like I’m four instead of 44. I tell Him what’s wrong with my life, but I don’t give Him the chance to help me fix anything. I talk to Him, muttering, but lately haven’t gone to Him in prayer. Not real, deep, involved, here’s-what’s-happening prayer. I’ve successfully ignored Him and blamed His absence on everything but my own pushing Him away.

I never thought I would be one of those people! And He means so much more to me than that. I know I mean so much more to Him!

And now I’m really embarrassed. And ashamed.

Oh, GOD!

Never mind, God. I know you’re still in control. Still here with your arms around me. Still here, taking care of me and family in ways I’m not even aware of.

You haven’t forgotten me.

And I’m so sorry I forgot about you. Even just for a little while.

Forgive me, Lord.

Forgive me.

“For I know the plans I have for you,”
declares the Lord.
“Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you.
Plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11, NIV.

I’m gonna be okay, God. I’m gonna be okay, because you’re God, and I’m not. And even if I don’t know what Your definition of “okay” is, I still know I will be. Because You are God.

And I am not.

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

Sweeten my tea and share:

I Lied to Myself… But Not Anymore!

Mar 23, 2012 | 0 comments

I used to lie to myself. A lot. I used to let others define who I was, who I wasn’t, who I should be, where I came from… I used to let others define me.

The problem is, that was the problem.

Lately, I’ve been remembering these things. I don’t really know why. But I’m embarrassed for my past. For the legacy I’ve left for my family, for the friends I’ve lost, for the bosses I’ve failed. For the successes I never reached. For the go-with-the-flow mentality that wasn’t so smart to begin with.

It’s one thing to be laid-back and easy-going; it’s another to not stand your ground. To let others tell you what’s wrong with you, even when you know, deep down inside, that they’re wrong. I’m ashamed sometimes for who I was and who I let others see; even though they didn’t really see Me. I’m not talking about honest-to-God mistakes that we all make from time to time. I’m talking about people who kept me in A Box, in a design they created. They only saw what they wanted to see in me, and I let them believe it. I let them make me believe I was who they thought I was. Even though I knew better. Even though I knew it wasn’t true.

Even though I knew that nobody really knew me.

I think part of it is coming to terms with how I’m raising my daughter: am I doing a good job? Shouldn’t I have done better, yelled less, loved more? And with being unemployed. Why can’t I get a job? Am I that unemployable? What did I do wrong?

One of my friends is going through a break up with someone we both thought was The One. And today, I heard a song that reminded me of my first “real” boyfriend. [What does it say about someone when he picks Your Song to be “Hard to Say I’m Sorry…”?!] So Dot and I started talking about good relationships and bad relationships. I may still be single, but that’s a choice I made to give attention to my daughter and my writing. And I’m okay with that.

I haven’t had any responses from the applications and resumes I’ve been sending out. But I’ve been finding pocket change here and there; odd jobs and other ways to pay the bills. It’s not great. We’ve had to give up some sentimental things like our annual Disney passes. We clip coupons more than we used to. But we’re getting by. And I’m okay with that.

Sometimes I wonder if I’d done better at work, if I’d stayed in college, if I’d gone on another date… how my life would have been different. But then, it wouldn’t have been my life, would it?

There have been seasons in my life when I’ve doubted myself. When I’ve allowed others to guide me, lead me, direct me in the ways they want me to go. When I’ve let them tell me that Me Being Me isn’t not just not good enough, it was downright wrong.

I’m ashamed to admit I let people convince me of so many things. In retrospect I wonder how I could possibly have been so stupid, so gullible. But more so, I’m ashamed that I allowed that mentality to root itself inside me until I weeded it out. And it was painful; sometimes still is. Weeding is never a truly easy task. Pulling weeds is a dirty job. It grabs dirt and debris on its way out; and sometimes it grabs onto the good stuff as well. Have you ever had to pull up flowers along with the weeds? Discarding something lovely, something pleasing, is so painful, even though it’s necessary.

But I’d rather pull it all up and start new than live with shadows. Shadows are dark, creepy, misfigurations of things. They can scare, and hurt, and drain the light.

Yes, I’d rather live with new light than old shadows.

And it’s that push that keeps me facing my fears, my insecurities. My lies. That keeps me acknowledging people, places, things, and events from my past in a way that I can either accept and embrace them, or accept their lessons and say “Thank you, now good-bye.”

I’m no longer afraid of success. Of seeing people I used to know. Of being Me. Especially being the Me that I already am, and the Me I know I’m supposed to be.

Fundamentally, I know I’m a good mom, I’m a good provider, I’m a good daughter and friend and housekeeper and writer and… and… and…

And I am not stupid. I am not worthless. I am not confused or crazy or thick-headed or immature.

Standing my ground each day does not make me a bitch, it makes me powerful.
Laughing each day does not make me flippant, it makes me happy.
Writing every day does not make me lazy, it makes me confident.
Cooking every day does not make me fat, it makes me healthy.
Loving every day does not make me weak, it makes me strong.

And sharing myself every day through my blog, in person, asking for hugs from my family, and smiling at strangers… none of this makes me stupid or naive or gullible or careless or crazy.

It makes me, Me.

And you’re just gonna have to be okay with that. Or live in my shadow.