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Part 11: Feeling Stuck Continued

10/14/2008 7:22:37 AM

Journal Entry

I think one of the things I struggle with and mourn, is that the closeness to people is now different.  It’s not the enmeshment of before.  I do realize I’m still in disequilibrium and possibly not experiencing the immediacy yet, but if everyone has their own way of seeing life and relating to it, I guess that makes me feel separated from everyone else.

We don’t construct life and reality, though, in isolation.  We do it with and among others.  But, what I feel is a separateness from people.  I don’t rely on their goodwill, I’m not dependent on them for completion, and that makes me feel a little lonely.  I guess I’m still struggling to understand then how the world and I and others do fit together.  Right now I feel a distance, like an observer, and I know that’s not the end of the story.

Journal Entry

I’m really confused at this point.  I’m not sure what’s of me and what’s of God, and I’m so afraid I’ll mess something up.  More than anything, I want to do God’s will, whether I stay in this congregation or go.  In my devotions, the Psalm line reads, “when my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way.’  I count on that, because my spirit has grown faint.  Maybe that’s where I need to be in order to turn it over completely to God.

I am totally confused—but I also realize suddenly that I’m not afraid.  I remember back to my call as pastor, and how I was lost, confused, without any sense of direction.  And God opened a door for me that I could recognize.  It’s all a matter of trust.

Journal Entry

I’m so afraid of life in all its fullness, of the freedom to be me, of the freedom to choose how to live.  I fear myself far more than others.

Journal Entry

This time of transition has been especially hard for me because I feel removed from people.  I feel like I see in a way most people don’t and I vacillate between arrogance, cynicism, despair and loneliness.  I know all of these are part of the transition, part of me deciding who I will be.  Yet, I also suspect that the loneliness in particular may linger.  I don’t know.  And yet, I’ll never be at a place where I can’t learn from others, or be changed by them.

I’m not a peaceful person to be around right now.  I think I’m fighting the process of integration, and hence my depression.  I feel people won’t understand my thoughts and feelings a lot, how I see constructs, what I feel is important and what isn’t.  I guess I feel right now ‘they’ won’t understand me but I will understand them, and that makes me feel lonely.

The more I see and understands, the greater the depth of pain because so much of the suffering and conflict in this world isn’t necessary; so much is based on the defense of our constructs, our perceptions of each other and the world.

The world, our existence, is larger than we know it to be, and all of life is sacred in a way I haven’t seen before.

Journal Entry

My thoughts are in turmoil, my heart filled with doubt and longing.  How can I so easily forget all that God has done for me?  How is it that things must happen according to my timing, or I lose heart?

I know, I know and have learned that God’s timing is always right, and always what’s good for me.  Why do I allow myself to despair?

I think my hurt little girl is causing some trouble here—doubting God’s love, doubting his willingness to stay the distance and beyond, always fearing that if I’m not good enough or don’t do things perfectly, I’m going to blow it.  I’ll lose everything, even God’s love and support.

Don’t I know by now that God isn’t like that?  God doesn’t abandon me, even when I fail.  This little girl must grow up, or I’ll never feel fully complete—integrated—whole.  This little girl must grow up and learn to see with a woman’s eyes, the woman that I am and am becoming.

I’m not quite sure how to make that happen, or even if I can.  The little girl is me, and yet not all of me.  Do I give her life through compartmentalizing, putting my pain and doubt in her so that I can more easily handle it?  How can I help the little girl begin to see through the eyes I now see?

Perhaps, by giving forgiveness?  To be able to say to my parents ‘I love you and I’m glad you’re my parents?’  It’s time to stop wishing for a different family, a ‘normal’ family, for that is an image that has no meaning; only the power to hurt.

I can never be whole while there is still bitterness and pain and resentment.  They are who they are as I am who I am.  I don’t have the power to change them, nor should I want to.  That’s the crux of the matter right there.  I must be able to love them as they are.

And in seeing this, I feel differently towards the people in the church.  Nothing can be separated, nothing can be compartmentalized—not for wholeness and integration.  Pain in one area of life carries over to the others, affects all the others.  In fact, our different roles may indicate different areas of our lives, but we ourselves are one, so our thoughts, feelings—how we see and understand—all in all, complete, unified, integrated, whole.

You know, I didn’t sit down to write these thoughts.  They came as I wrote, as they so often do.  God really works through this journal, and is teaching me in ways I didn’t even know I needed taught.  God has promised me wholeness—that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay.  And that’s exactly what God’s doing.  Making it possible for me to be whole, complete, no matter where I am or what I do.  What a tremendous gift.  Thank you, Lord.

Journal Entry

Psychological pain is about resisting the motion of life.  I wonder how much my physical pain has also been caused by this.  I think I embrace the pain of growth and don’t turn aside from awareness, but that’s never totally true.

I don’t know what to do with my time, because I don’t know direction, etc.  I feel like a lost, wandering soul and I guess that’s the problem.  I want to immerse myself in books.

This is the hard part.  To keep going in the midst of the fog:  no sense of direction, not even a clue, and no one around to tell me.  But I’m not alone.  I am not alone.

Journal Entry

I’m closed off, pulled back within myself.  I can’t exactly pin point what is troubling me; I only know something is.  I feel really shut down, so I’d better spend some time trying to work through it.

I feel dead on the inside and not able to enjoy things much—a sure sign of depression.  I’m having anxious thoughts about many things, most never likely to happen, which is also a signal.

I don’t want to write, etc.; I just want to be left alone, even by God.  What kind of pressure am I putting on myself, that would make me have this kind of reaction?

Journal Entry

I no longer know what’s me and what isn’t.  I feel like I’m out in emptiness and I no longer know how the world and I fit together.  If the systems aren’t ultimate, what is?  If I can’t look to the church, the seminary, my home, etc., to define me and give me a sense of place, then what?

Right now, it’s not enough to say God.  That makes me feel very lonely.  Like everyone else is happily engaged in holding their life together and life is working for them, but what about me?

Journal Entry

I remember reading that when you’re in the process of growing, you might begin to feel like you’re regressing—falling back into old ways of relating, and so you resist.  I think that’s what has been bothering me, because I feel contempt at myself for my deepening need of Tim.  It feels like the neediness/enmeshment of my younger days.  I may want to move closer, but then get confused by the self-differentiated voice in my head saying ‘you’ve been there before and moved on.’  I end up wanting—I’m not sure what.

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