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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Blah

I've been trying to figure this out.  This being me, life, feelings etc.  When I'm trying to figure out how I'm doing or how I feel, the only word that seems to come to mind is blah.  So there it is.  I am currently Blah.  Now, I've decided that Blah is neither positive or negative, but just blah.  Still feeling like I am just sitting buns deep in some nice warm pluff mud.  (Got a good visual?)  Instead of jumping right up, I've decided to camp out for a little bit. Maybe sink and inch or so deeper, but not completely stuck.  What's the hurry any who?  Are you smelling what I'm stepping in? 

It terrifies me to actually write this, but I've even been feeling the slightest bit apathetic.  I know, I know, that's probably not good, but it's how I feel nonetheless.  Lacking motivation, care etc.  I don't know how to go about this whole grief thing and the wake of lovely emotion and significant facts of life that it has left behind it.  Not too be too extremely dramatic, but I never thought that something or some circumstance could have this kind of effect on me.  Then the coper/tough girl in me gets pissed that I let it.  I feel dumb waking up everyday still in shock or even denial.  Thinking that somehow the next day will probably be better.  Only to be disappointed with the reality that it in fact has not been a dream.  That the little shiz storm is for real.  Or I just feel kind of stuck.  And then, because I feel dumb about the whole thing, I don't necessarily want to tell anyone else about these thoughts because it always sounds worse when you have word vomit and the poor person that you dump on probably doesn't comprehend just what exactly you are saying and it then becomes a cluster.  And a cluster doesn't help anyone.  So there you have it.  A big ol cluster of Blah. I would rather not talk about something than talk about something and have someone not get it.  (Disclaimer: Not getting it is no fault of the person, it's usually because rain man is speaking or my words make no sense.)  To me- there is nothing worse than spending hours/days/months/years over analyzing something in my head, then saying it out loud (without throwing up) and seeing the poor, confused look of no comprendo in the poor listener's eyes.  Talk about immediate shut down.  Clean up on aisle ten.  Donezo. 

Now I know that people have dealt with way more than this.  And maybe you are tired of my ranting/venting.  But, regardless, it hasn't been a walk on the yellow brick rd over here.  I have more questions and doubts and thoughts than ever before.  But, I'm tired.  I've kind of had enough for now or ever....  But, bottom line, here is what I know.  And this is what keeps me from getting swallowed up in mud.  I know that deep down, I can't fix, change or heal this thing.  I can't fix a broken heart.  Even if it's my own.  No body else can fix, change or heal this thing for me.  Only God can.  And I have to wait on Him.  If I decide tomorrow to put on my big girl boots and tromp right on out of the mud, I may miss what He wants me to learn through all of this.  I may miss something great.   And I don't want to blow it.  I don't want to miss it.  As pissed and disappointed as I have been, I've felt weirdly okay.  I've felt a weird freedom to just be.  I don't feel terrible if I'm driving down the road and just well up with tears for no reason.  Or if I want to whisper yell a cuss word...  Every time i see a Scout boat I think about Rob.  Every time I go to East Bay Deli I think of Rob.  Every time I go into Hobcaw I want to drive straight to Rob's house.  But, then I don't.  And that makes me sad.  I still listen to one of his voice mails every single day.  But, still I know it's okay.  When I forget that the Lord still has me, he shows up (sometimes it takes a while for me to realize.)  He has shown up with people.  Someone told me it's like Jesus with skin on.  People who know they can't fix it, but offer themselves to walk it out.  Just their presence and prayers when it is good or when it feels like it's all gone to hell and a hand basket. It doesn't matter.  They show up.  They give time.  They are safe.  They love.  They are part of the story.  And that is the LORD.  And that is what I am thankful for.

Word to your mom.

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