If you want to know the truth . . . if you want to know the truth, I think at times it’s doomed. If you want to know the truth, I doubt that things will get better. And if you want to know the truth, I don’t believe he takes it seriously when I tell him that there’s something missing here.

What is it? What’s changed? Maybe nothing. Maybe there was nothing there to begin with, no spark or life to it or . . . desperate sort of affection. Maybe it’s all been so simple seeming because there was no great feeling, it was no great feat. Maybe it was a pattern that we both just fell into: this being with one another so much of this time, those kisses, those stated declarations of love, those gifts, those kindnesses. Maybe those moment were kind and joyful even in a way but were somehow scripted instead of spontaneous. Maybe my romances are always doomed.

It certainly seems that way at times. But I know of course that it’s just whining to say so.

I am mourning, and that is never a good thing to feel one must do while amidst a relationship. Mourning for what exactly? For all the things I thought I was being promised that I realize now I never was. For all the imaginings of a young and vibrant love story, one full of well-reasoned recklessness and wise passion. I wonder if there is such a thing. I mean, my last relationship was passionate,  but off the charts when it came to instability and, frankly, insanity. My current one is replete with security and no feeling at all. Is there not something in the middle? Or am I doomed to be unsatisfied?

I wonder what this is. I could almost swear it wasn’t always like this. Something has changed, and dramatically. Is he really just in pain? Or is there something he isn’t telling me? Where’s the disconnect coming from and does it really make sense to stay with someone just because you are with them if you’re not really with them after all? What was it that first brought us together? . . . I can’t seem to remember.

. . .

Sleep well, my Current Intention. Who knows what will be when you awake.

Here’s the thing about dudes: Without fail, they will drive you nuts.

I kind of had that figured out a while ago. I mean, when you’re with a guy like Mark for three years-ish, you get the idea. But Erik? Really thought that might be different. Turns out it’s just a hard and fast rule and apparently.

So, what’s all this about you ask? Well, it all started this very afternoon when Erik called to let me know he wouldn’t be able to come over until eight o’clock. I was, and perhaps stupidly, disappointed and it was obvious in my voice. I didn’t yell at him, didn’t deride him, call him names, or even object to what he was doing, which was working. I was just disappointed. And from this, the whole stupid thing devolved.

I told him I would go and hang out with my brother and sister since he was busy and that was the end of our conversation. He was frustrated with me for being disappointed. Over the course of the next couple of hours, he texted a couple of times to see what I was up to and somehow got irritated with me for going shopping for paint with my roommate. But the truth is that he’s often been upset with me for hanging out with my friends. Almost as if I’m just supposed to sit around and wait till he gets around to me.

But that isn’t the biggest problem, which is that he doesn’t talk to me when there’s a problem. If I text him, he doesn’t answer. Instant message? Same thing. If I call, I get voice mail, again and again and again. But this isn’t the first time this has happened. It happens every time we have an argument or an issue that’s tough to resolve. I want to fix it, he refuses to face it. It’s enough to drive me crazy.

Because how in the world are we ever supposed to get to the other side of a problem if he won’t even talk about it? How do you cross a mountain if one of you won’t admit it’s there? It seems obvious to me that maturity begs for unblinking realizations. It seems that putting it under a rug doesn’t get your house clean and only makes it more likely for you to trip.

. . .

I love Erik. I really do. And there are moments when I look forward at my life without him and I panic. He’s wonderful in so many ways. Thoughtful and generous and handy and kind. Talented and skilled and hard working and sinewy. He’s made of firm stuff and would try his best to try his best for almost anyone it seems. So what’s the problem then? What is the problem? It’s just that he . . . won’t budge.

There are so many things that I think we’ve gotten resolved and then ten seconds later, there they are again and we have to go through the whole rigamarole all over. We have to go through what we feel and why we feel it, what we think should be and what is, and what we want from the other person that we’re not getting. Again. And again. And again. Everytime I think we’ve come to a consensus I feel blindsided when it comes right back, the same problem, all around us again like a smog. I wish there was some way that I could make it work on my own, but the sticky thing about a relationship is that it takes two.

I want Erik. I love Erik. But I also want to have relationships with my friends. I also want to be able to express my emotions without being criticized for them, without them being stored up for ammunition. I want to be able to apologize and have apologies respected and returned, not just someone appreciating the fact that I’ve seen how wrong I was. I want to feel I only have to apologize for things that I do that are really and truly wrong.

It’s nine in the morning and I haven’t slept yet. I can’t seem to sleep for anything lately. I know what the reason is. It’s that even though I’m trying not to pay attention, even though I put it out of my head, somehow my body is recognizing that this . . . is coming up on a year since it happened.

My body is making me think about my mother.

I look around me and see all these nice, kind people who are certainly as entitled as anyone would be to their families and suddenly it all seems so grossly unfair. It feels grossly unfair that some people get to have grandchildren. It feels grossly unfair that some people get to have parents. It feels grossly unfair that my daughter will never get to know my mother. It all just seems so terribly unfair.

I know it isn’t. The Lord is sovereign. I know that. And part of me can look at this and be pleased that she isn’t suffering anymore, not only in her illness but with any of the discomforts of just being human. She’s never tired anymore, or achy, she’s never hungry or cold-that makes me grateful. But sometimes I feel awful and rebellious and broken wondering why she had to be sick at all, and for it to be then, and to have to die that way. I know there’s purpose in it. I take comfort in that. To trust the Lord in one thing requires trusting Him in all things and I do, really. I just have these moments sometimes.I am having quite a few lately.

I keep thinking that these rushing feelings of loss will dissipate. And they have in some ways-in frequency if not in form. Sometimes I feel so sorry for myself it’s pathetic. And the Lord is patient in that, which is so gracious. He has yet to give me the supernatural talking to that Job got, although reading through it I see that it still applies.

I feel like a cavern. I feel like empty space. My heart aches.

And so I did something foolish. I reached out to someone in an inappropriate way because I wanted to heal my heart too quickly and with the wrong medicine. In the blush of morning, I am blushing myself. The truth is a boy can’t fix this. The truth is I already knew that, though part of me still wants to be held.

It’s an awkward thing to admit, but there it is. The truth is also that I don’t know how to be interested in anyone anymore. These things, the adoption, the death of my mom, the loss of my friendship with Simon, they’ve all taken a toll on me and have apparently manifested in simply not being able to have my head turned by anyone. I’m disappointed about it. But at this moment, perhaps the cavern is too deep to be filled no matter who might try. Perhaps the Lord is telling me to let Him heal this first.

I am sighing with the breeze. The morning is growing stale. I will try my hand at sleep once more.

Ok, ok, so I was whining last night. Well, early this morning. It’s unbecoming and also it’s fairly useless. So I don’t have what I think I want-there is always Purpose, God is always Soveriegn, and He was gracious enough to remind me this afternoon of all the things that I have been ignoring that are so valuable.

I read a newsletter from Nightlight wherein I learned that four new women are now working there instead of selling their bodies on the street, thanks to the prayers and support and ministry of Ron’s aunt and uncle’s organization. And then I came across an email from Freedom Church praising God for a boy who has been healed. And it seems to obvious, doesn’t it? That wanting for myself is even smaller than I thought, and that the reason I am here is for a much bigger purpose. As in, bringing glory to the most high God.

I was reading last night, ironically enough after moaning about some version of relationship that I term “love”, in Corinthians 13. As will surprise no one since it’s pretty well known, especially if you’ve been to a wedding in the past decade, it’s all about True love, real love, the love that is inspired by the Holy Spirit. And I realized that . . . I need to work on it. I do need to learn to love people better and in the Truth. I can be so lazy when it comes to that. I can “do no harm” for my own part, but still not do any good at all.

So pray for me, folks. I need it. I need a lot of things, but the deepest and truest of them all is the alignment between myself and the character of God. And lucky for me, He is faithful. Luckily for me, He is the Great Physician who can heal heart troubles as much as anything else.

I was thinking of making some excuses. I will not make any. This is What Is.

So it seems that I’m the only one of my friends who’s single these days. What is it about this stupid season? All that crap about birds and bees and flower blossoms is apparently at least somewhat true. No wonder Ricki Lake was able to have all those shows about Summer Fling Reunions. No wonder the VD clinics get such a boost at this time of year.

Not that I envy Ricki Lake guests or clinic patients . . .

Anyhow, the truth of the matter is that this is all a hopeless, hopeless case. That’s the real disappointment. As I was telling my brother when I was going through the submissions on an online dating site I was a fool to let my ex set me up with: all I want is a gigantic Christian. Is that so much to ask? Apparently. All the giant people aren’t down with Jesus and all the Christian boys are small. Who knew fulfilling two characteristics would be such a big freaking deal? Well, even if not a big freaking deal then at least seemingly impossible.

Sigh.

The trouble is what the trouble always is, and it’s that I want something specific. I can’t be satisfied to take up with just anyone anymore. It’s the worst possible idea to take a time when the sources are drying up and become even more picky than you’ve ever been before. But that’s the way of it. Especially when you’ve decided to quit trying to run your own life and instead look to what the Lord wants more than what you do. Because what hope do you have if you don’t?

What I am inclined to is usually not at all what I need. I’m headstrong. I’m distracted and misguided. I get bored with being on my own sometimes. And then I watch the scourge of the screen, Anne of Green Gables, and it’s enough to make me want to mope till the morning light. Still, it’s better for this kind of mood than Persuasion. What I don’t understand is . . . why I should even care. This isn’t the time, right? If it were, wouldn’t it just happen?

We should pray in faith. But what to do if what you have faith in isn’t panning out? Do you continue to lament to the Lord of hosts that you don’t have what you’re pretty sure you should? Like this:

Me: “God, I want this.”

God: “Not right now.”

Me: “Maybe I forgot to mention it, but I want this.”

God: “That’s not what I have for you at the moment.”

Me: “Ok, uhh, maybe I didn’t make myself clear: This is what I want!”

God: “What are you? Daft?! You can’t have IT!”

Embarassingly enough, this scenario has played out more often than I care to admit.

The truth of the matter is that this is another of those little things. This is the little thing that nags until it seems much bigger than it is. I’m not saying I’m one of those desperately lonely spinter ladies who just sit around sighing for a man-friend. That’s not really it. There were and will be and for all I know, are, possible man-friends around. But how to find the right one? When your ideas seem so specific?

It is enough to be with myself. Really, it is. And perhaps still my wounds are mending and my heart is getting itself back in working order. Maybe it’s just not the moment. I can’t deny that there have been tragedies. There have been heavy blows. There have been aches brought to me that still twist sometimes when I least expect it. There are still moments when what has transpired in and of itself seems like far too much. And perhaps even now being in relationship with another person could be too much of a burden or too much of a crutch. I can’t say. And I must admit also that I don’t want to say it. It seems all so silly. But it is what I’m feeling in this single moment.

I could do it right this time. I’ve been taught how. Only now there is no one else on the other side of the plus sign.

I’m supposed to meet Sarah and her parents and Natalie and Sean for dinner tonight, and I’m afraid. I don’t know what my problem is. I should be happy to see her-it’s been a while. And I am, I really am. But I’m also scared, nervous, anxious. This is all new ground for me. I don’t know how to do this. And she’s at that age where she’s getting very attached and it’s difficult for me to even think about being around her when she doesn’t even know me.

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I don’t watch YouTube regularly. In fact, I stay away from it expressly, and that’s mostly because I’m afraid that I might accidentally stumble across some amateur porn or something that’s been snuck into the middle of a really juicy socially conscious diatribe against like . . . jerks who refuse to pass the Equal Pay Act or something. But luckily for me not everyone feels like that. While browsing a blog called Feminist Allies in my evermore crazed search for like minded bloggers, I came across this.

(Begins at 4:36. Tried to find one that only had the second segment but couldn’t.)

And though this particular selection isn’t entirely G-rated, I really enjoy the sentiment.  I like this description of love. It’s what I think of it myself.

Like a friend of mine said, “I’m a real sexual deviant: I’m a virgin.”

This morning feels like early spring. Windows opened, curtains fluttering slightly, and in the breeze there’s a smell like a fresh shower and the afterbirth of rain. I’ve been too long held down. And now even the weather seems to make my heart light.

I’ve been demanding, I can see that now. I’ve demanded that my demands were met and I decided for myself what I should have. I told God that if he wanted something different, I would submit. But I didn’t. I stored it all up, my disappointment, balled it up into a knot of self-pity. Because look at all I’ve had to put up with and now this too? Don’t I deserve what I want? Haven’t I suffered enough?

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