Solace

Sometimes I find that the only solace I can acquire is that which is within my own mind. Rather than to empty your feelings into a useless form, grasping at any sense of understanding, I find that escape inside myself is the only form of comfort I am even allowed to have. A place where the only judge is God and myself.

As of late, I have been dealing with these feelings of escape – and tonight, on this Friday, it has become such an overpowering force, that I am crippled under the weight of despair and loneliness. I wonder more than one should on how my life could have been if I had just altered one course, or chosen the moral road on every occasion. In my head, I am able to challenge those feelings of embarrassment, regret, and discomfort – and have too much become a pro at it. After all, who really cares about a girl who has for nearly ten months lived in regret – and cannot even have a decent conversation about anything outside of business and school?

That is now who I am, and who I have become. It is unfortunate – that although I know my Savior is here, it feels not enough… Those words always catch in my throat, and I barely have the confidence to say them out loud. I feel ruined, and destroyed, In part because I am not one to heal easily. Forgiveness for others, seems not to be a tremendous controversy in my heart, for I can reason nearly anyone’s actions – except my own, and this is becoming the long torturous death of me… piece by piece my heart is shelled out, and I, like a fool, give it away, and then act surprised when I am hurt. I am my own worse enemy, and the lack of healing – is the big gaping wound that I cannot cover when someone meets me – it has now become a badge of sorts “ Hello my name is Theresa, and I am scum….” It is definitely transparent. I cannot offer anything to a new friendship, and there has been no allowance in healing the old.

Walking through the very doors of my church is painful. Seeing people enjoying each other’s company, while I, in the midst of nearly 400 people sit alone and unknown… the ones who do recognize me are the very ones who hurt me – and I wish to avoid… this has become a vicious cycle in any event, one which brings little comfort, and one which leads me to ask…. Why cannot I just not move on- why can I not be like the others… like the ones who can look past me without feeling any remorse? Or the ones who choose to pretend they are still my friend…. This is how I feel when walking through my church, a place that use to be a solace is now a struggle to walk through. No one cares enough to really know, it is much easier to fluff up what is on the surface so that others can still find you remotely approachable.

I feel a tremendous sense of loss…. I wish there were those who could see outside my strange exterior, and while my life is dramatic take time to love me regardless and wholly. In the same way I would them. I wish that on a Friday night, I don’t get brushed off for the nearest bar, or a better time. I feel used and battered. I am worn, and in a place that I would never wish on anyone. I am in a struggle for my life, and the only place of solace seems to be inside my head.

I feel like my heart is the equivalent to used tissue, torn, tattered, ruined, nasty, untouchable, disgusting, familiar, and blown… and here I am offering this worn tissue to God day in and day out…. And on the outside people see me as this worn tissue… something that they would never dare trample on, but walk around in complete disgust or ignoring its existence…

I push through every day, it is a War in my Heart, one that I dare not offer to anyone else – because they deserve so much more than the person I am now.