Masks

This semester I'm taking a Shakespeare class all about his tragedies. It's rather ironic that it takes a tragedy for the mask to be torn away from right before my very eyes.

My best (guy) friend just lost his fiance' this weekend, and is a wreck. I'm just heartbroken for him, because they've been together for over a year, and they were so excited about getting married. He talked to me last night (after his sobbing had subsided), about how, in retrospect, he could see that God was taking care of him. Miraculously, he wasn't as devastated as he thought he would be. He was sure he would be incapacitated with grief at losing her, but in reality, he had the first good night's sleep he'd had in a long time. It's a wonder how God can take a terrible situation and bring a little light and comfort into it. As heartbroken as he is, he knows he's going to get through this. For the first time, almost since he's started dating this girl (which was part of the problem), he's finally turning to God and seeking him out. I couldn't be more proud of him. He's made plenty of mistakes, but he's also come a long way, and grown up so much.

I can't help but laugh at myself because in the course of trying to comfort and advise him, I'm telling him all the things I should be telling myself. "Put God first and he'll take care of you." "Turn to God, pray, he's ready to take care of you." All the things I should be doing myself. I don't have any problem praying for others. That comes so naturally, but when it comes to praying for myself, it's like I get this lump in my throat and I can't get the words out. As if I feel like God wouldn't want to hear what my own requests, my own needs, or desires. When in reality, he already knows them, even before I even know them. He's just waiting for me to push past my stubborn pride and just talk to him about all of it.

You know, everyone always says to treat God like a best friend. Now that I think about it, I don't like talking to my closest friends about my problems. I love helping them with theres, I thrive on it. But when it comes to me, I hate, abhor opening up like that. I used to think it was everyone else. No one would stop to realize that I was hurting or needed encouragement for a change. But in reality, I'm the one at fault. I do everything I can to hide my problems with an easy smile and a word of encouragement to others. I'm so quick to be a source of strength for everyone else, no one can see past that to see my own trials. Because I won't let them. Even when everyone knows that something is going on with me or my family, I just cover it all up with a nice little smile, and I can just imagine everyone thinking, "Wow, nothing gets to that girl."

But what scares me the most is that I don't know how to change. I don't know how to be more transparent. Which is rather laughable, because I used to think I wore my emotions on my sleeves. And when I want to, I do. But that's are the surface emotions. I honestly don't know many people that really know the real me. The me that gets more excited about a great book than anything else in the world, that thrives on writing, that absolutely comes alive in it. The me that can't wait to hop on the next plane to God knows where and just see the world. The woman who has found herself heartbroken more times than she'd care to admit, or who would rather spend an evening curled up on a couch with the person she cares about just enjoying being there with him. There are so many little things about me that no one really knows. Because I just don't let them know.

Is that the way I am with God? He knows all these things about me, but do I treat him like I do my friends? Do I hide myself from him, and try not to acknowledge my hurts, my joys, or myself? Obviously, it's not possible to do that, but am I trying to at least? I retreat into myself, brooding over whatever it is that's happening in my life. but what does that make me?

To be honest, this isn't something I'd considered before. I never saw myself as someone who hid from God, at least not in this sense. I'm starting to see things about myself that I haven't realized until now. I suppose that's the beautiful thing about writing things down. You discover something new all the time.

Word Vomit

I'm twenty-one years old. I'm an English Major. I'm an Apostolic Christian. I'm a woman. What more is that to say about me? So much. What am I willing to share? That's debatable. I share more in these blogs than I do in my whole life. I'm an expert at putting on a demure face and fooling the world into believing that there's not a lot going on up here other than what meets the eye. But in reality, there's this whole other side that no one knows about, no one sees. My mind goes nonstop about anything and everything. Something is always running through my thoughts, there's always something new to analyze, some new problem to disect. I'm not perfect, but to be completely honest, I love the fact that my mind is constantly working. I feel alive, sharp and worth something in that sense. I'm not just a "dumb blonde" that doesn't have anything going on under the hood.


Wow, I'm not even sure where all this word vomit came from but I wanted to write someting tonight, and this was the result. Beautiful, I know. I'm sure I'll win a Pulitzer. Goodnight everyone.

Full Circle

Well, it looks like I'm back where I started. Classes start in a week, and I'll be going back to campus. Looking back on the past year, it's incredible to see how far I've come, and how far I have to go. Sometimes I wonder if I've made any progress at all. Then I look behind me, and I realize that I've come farther in the past year, in so many ways, than I've ever come in all my life. I barely even resemble the naive girl that stepped onto the NSU campus last year. I don't even know her anymore, and part of me thinks that's a good thing, and another part finds it to be a terrifying realization. I'm in a time of my life where change is a good thing. Growth and evolution is formidable to who I will become. If I can't adapt to my environment, I'll never truly be the person I have the potential to become.

And yet...I see how much I haven't changed. I still have those same weaknesses, those same stumbling blocks, all the same vices. I wonder when I'll sincerely be able to say that I've overcome those things that cause me to falter. I want so desperately to become something more than I am, but I fear I'll never have the strength to do so.

And then there's him. After my last fiasco, I didn't think I'd ever even consider dating again. Well, I'm not considering it now. He's such a wonderful person, and such a good friend. And it's strange, because he was always there, sort of in the shadows. I never considered him as anything more than a casual acquaintance, but in the past couple weeks, he's become a lot more. I look forward to hearing his voice, and hate to hear him say he has to go. I feel exhilarated when I'm with him, like it's the most comfortable, natural thing. I don't know how this will develop, or if it even will, but I can afford to be patient enough to give it and him the time needed to see.

In all, this has been a very difficult year, but more than that, a year that I have learned so much in, and after it's all been said and done, I wouldn't want to trade what I've learned for anything. Life, in all it's heartache and frustrations, is truly good at the core.