Yesterday was the first day of the 24th year of my life. I spent the day alone in the apartment of a friend. I could have gone out. I could have driven to Houston to be with my family, but I chose to spend the day alone. I think I needed to let some of the silence sink into my soul a bit. I have been unemployed and homeless for a week now. It sounds more dramatic than it is. I have friends and family that are willing to take care of me. They offer couches and food and company. Still, there is something about being 24 and having to rely on the charity of others that is just painful.
I can tell you what that painfulness is. It is my pride being sliced up into little bits. It is the illusion of control over my life being shredded with other so-called important documents. That painfulness is what is good for me. It hurts like hell and it is scarier than that time I was stuck on a mountain. It feels something like the time I was waiting for my mom to come pick me up after school as a 5-year-old and she was late. I was the last little jumper-clad child in the hallway and there were no more cars in the circle drive. Turns out my mom had gone to lunch with her sister. I can't remember if she was just running late or if I was supposed to be relayed a message about going to lunchbunch for a little while. I do, however, remember an abyss forming in my stomach. I remember a fear the size of the ocean engulfing my senses. And tears. Lots of tears. I had the same feeling a couple of years later when, as I waited for the elevator that would transport me to the floor where I was supposed to meet my family, I looked out the window to see our station wagon pulling out of the church parking lot. I ran back to my Sunday school room crying because my parents had left me. They came to my room and got a me a few minutes later. Turns out they were just moving the car....I can't remember why now.
I can't really describe the sort of fear that those times induced except to say that every rational thought that I might have had as a five year old and later as an eight year old dissolved into a feeling of abandonment. Forgotten. I felt forgotten. I knew that my parents would never purposefully leave me behind which only left me to believe that they had just forgotten about me completely. They just forgot they had a daughter. They forgot that there was a little girl relying on them to take care of her.
I think, perhaps, it is the same feeling at the root of this fear that has crept in this last week. I think, maybe I feel that God has forgotten me. It is irrational, I know. I KNOW He hasn't forgotten me. I know that He has a plan and this time of unemployment is part of that plan. I know that He will continue to take care of me. I know all of those truths just as I knew my parents would never abandon me. But knowing and trusting are different. When you are 5, trusting that your parents won't leave you when you are holding your mommy's hand is easy. Trusting that they won't leave you when you see them drive out of the parking lot without you in the car....that's harder. So, that's where I am now; Jumper-clad and standing in a cold hallway staring at the door wondering when and if my ride is coming.
**I feel I should write a disclaimer in the chance that my mom reads this. Those experiences didn't scar me for life. Don't worry mom. I am not messed up because you were late to pick me up once.
I can tell you what that painfulness is. It is my pride being sliced up into little bits. It is the illusion of control over my life being shredded with other so-called important documents. That painfulness is what is good for me. It hurts like hell and it is scarier than that time I was stuck on a mountain. It feels something like the time I was waiting for my mom to come pick me up after school as a 5-year-old and she was late. I was the last little jumper-clad child in the hallway and there were no more cars in the circle drive. Turns out my mom had gone to lunch with her sister. I can't remember if she was just running late or if I was supposed to be relayed a message about going to lunchbunch for a little while. I do, however, remember an abyss forming in my stomach. I remember a fear the size of the ocean engulfing my senses. And tears. Lots of tears. I had the same feeling a couple of years later when, as I waited for the elevator that would transport me to the floor where I was supposed to meet my family, I looked out the window to see our station wagon pulling out of the church parking lot. I ran back to my Sunday school room crying because my parents had left me. They came to my room and got a me a few minutes later. Turns out they were just moving the car....I can't remember why now.
I can't really describe the sort of fear that those times induced except to say that every rational thought that I might have had as a five year old and later as an eight year old dissolved into a feeling of abandonment. Forgotten. I felt forgotten. I knew that my parents would never purposefully leave me behind which only left me to believe that they had just forgotten about me completely. They just forgot they had a daughter. They forgot that there was a little girl relying on them to take care of her.
I think, perhaps, it is the same feeling at the root of this fear that has crept in this last week. I think, maybe I feel that God has forgotten me. It is irrational, I know. I KNOW He hasn't forgotten me. I know that He has a plan and this time of unemployment is part of that plan. I know that He will continue to take care of me. I know all of those truths just as I knew my parents would never abandon me. But knowing and trusting are different. When you are 5, trusting that your parents won't leave you when you are holding your mommy's hand is easy. Trusting that they won't leave you when you see them drive out of the parking lot without you in the car....that's harder. So, that's where I am now; Jumper-clad and standing in a cold hallway staring at the door wondering when and if my ride is coming.
**I feel I should write a disclaimer in the chance that my mom reads this. Those experiences didn't scar me for life. Don't worry mom. I am not messed up because you were late to pick me up once.
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Thanks for the comment! Nice to meet u!
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