01/18/11 yeah

Yeah

The whole thing about it is that I gotta be real.  Like being up front and honest about what is going on in me. 

i.e. I can’t be good enough.  Period.  I can’t.

Becoming a Christian does not and did not erase that.  And yet here I am constantly striving to do it all right.  Struggling with every day events, decisions to be made over large and trivial things that happen along the way.  Everything is a choice and must be weighed.  But I don’t have the wherewithal that it takes to be perfect.  Never did, never will.  Bringing me to the point in the circle where I find myself back to trying to be good enough and knowing that I will never make it.  I seek to be loved.  I seek to be worthy.  I never measure up.

And that’s when I sit on the floor and cry over peanut butter jar lids that won’t open.  I slam my fist into the pillow that is empty beside me in my bed.  I stare at the single toothbrush in the bathroom in a hollow dazed hypnotic sinking overwhelming feeling of aloneness.

My faith knows better. 

My heart does not. 

My mind tells me that I am loved and that this plan B was what God ordained for me to live and that it is for His glory. 

My soul sinks deeper into despair and retreats from the pain.

How does one get everything integrated so that they can at least function?

I know, I know.  The dog that gets the most food grows the most.

And in theory that’s great. But I’m here trying to live it and there’s a lot lacking.

Then the pharoses’ come along and heap coals of condemnation on my head (as I help them).

The weight is overwhelmingly crushing, and I think I’m unable to even crawl out from under it.

Yes I’m still rebelling.  Rebelling against the weight.  Rebelling against the loss of my dreams.

Rebelling against what I know is selfishness in me and yet uncontrollable.

It comes out one way or another.

I get fat.  I diet.  I lose weight.  I have obsessions.  I take medication.  I isolate.  I spend all my time with strangers on the computer.  I tell myself that this is ministry (not really believing it).  I find myself drawn to any eligible male, and some not eligible.  I cross lines that I’d never have thought I would.  I beat myself up for not being strong enough.  I’m so tired.

I share my heart and mind with friends.  Most do not have time for me.  The best of them cannot begin to help me.

So I write.

What causes a woman who has not had sex for over 18 years to suddenly become so obsessed with it that she gets tangled up in on line relationships with strangers?

Don’t answer that.

Dabbling does it.  One inch at a time like a frog in boiling water never noticing until it’s too late that it’s about to be dinner.

My body betrays me.

Oh sure I’m still untouched by a man – physically anyway.

But the urges have me fantasizing and saying things to people I’d never have dreamed I would do.

Part of me wants to say screw it and just live the way my body wants to live.

A larger part of me says hold on God will come through.

And then I’m back to being good enough.

The life I’ve lived deserves no such happy ending.

My mind ponders these things in depth.

God loves me regardless of what I do.

I love Him for loving me.

But there are still no arms holding me, and only one toothbrush in the bathroom.

I’m trying to be patient but every day I look in the mirror and I see an older woman.

The light is fading and it seems that more paint is needed to spruce up the old barn.

I used to be able to attract any man with my looks, charm, sensuality, etc.

My churcianity prevents me from that now.  No matter, they’re all faded and not so potent as before.

I’d like to say that I’m getting there but the further I go the more I realize that not only can’t I get there, but I don’t even know the way.

So what is a 56 year old horney Christian woman supposed to do?

Well that’s the question now isn’t it.

One thing is for certain. I can’t live a lie.

At least not on purpose.

No wonder I’m so tired all the time, eh?

Makes me want to quit the game all together since I see no way of winning.

Looking at this.  56.  never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined being this age.

Much less single at this point.

Yeah, plan B.  is there a point to all of this?

Persevering?  Learning patience?  Coming to the end of me so You can take over?

Been there.  Don’t have the energy to fight through it any more.  Do your thing and let me just get on with it.

I’ll never give up on God.  It’s not that.

I just don’t understand the rules. 

I can’t navigate through this ocean of sludge with a penlight to see with.

It feels as though I’m never going to get wherever You want me Lord.

Not only that. If You manage to get me there, I’m not so sure I’m gonna be what I’m supposed to be when I do.

In fact I’m pretty sure I won’t.

Which makes it all the more tempting to just give up and do something really stupid.

But I have no self confidence any more.

Lord can’t I just get laid and then ..... no

I can’t.

I know.

So where is this supernatural power everyone is talking about that’s supposed to help me out in these situations?

Yeah