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Monday, December 12, 2011

Faking, Home, and Hope

WARNING: This is a little more personal than usual.
I needed to write so this is my platform.
OAGJ is, after all, ME!


I spent a few precious hours on Sunday in quiet solitude.
I have been out of sorts lately.
I have blamed it on...
being sick,
the weather,
my
children,
my husband's new job,
my leaking roof,
our 
messy home,
the bills that need to be paid,
and
about another zillion little things. 



The truth is...
 that I am in a low place right now.

With depression I end up
short tempered,
full of anxiety,
self depreciating,
and
a lot of FAKING goes on.

Fake smile,
Fake laughing,
Fake caring about life,
and beating myself up for
everything I do
and don't do.

A counseling philosophy kicks in...
Fake it till you can make it.

Seriously, I am REALLY good at faking and
I have had countless years of practice.
But faking my way through life can only last so long, and while
I am really good at this, I eventually, usually, realize
that I am doing A LOT of faking and not a lot of enjoying.

That is the point I was at Saturday night.
I had been freaking out all day and was on emotional
meltdown mode when Greg arrived home from work.
I was so worked up that I couldn't even sleep, although
sleep was all I wanted. I went to bed very late and 
fell asleep praying.

I have been praying, for several week's, for patience and relief.
A push came at 6am Sunday morning when I woke 
from a deep sleep with the need to go to church.
I hate waking up early but this was the one chance I 
had to go off on my own to try to gain some perspective.

I arrived 30 minutes early and sat in the quiet building 
listening to the choir practice and praying to mend my 
fractured soul.

 I hate when I must ask for this time after 
time. 

 I can recognize what I need, but I always
feel like a loser who cannot get a grip of her  own life.
I suppose that is why things sometimes get so far gone
before I actually realize that I need help.

 As I sat there, with my heart feeling like it was hollow and locked
away. I attempted to chip away to open it up
to love and acceptance. As the minutes passed and the
service started, I continued to ask for patients and relief.
The songs that the choir sang seemed to be answers
to many of my requests and I felt the connection to my 
holy Father. There wasn't a miracle, I never expected
there to be, I left feeling the shadows lurking but with
a lighter heart. I knew that I needed to stop judging myself
so harshly and be the patience that I was looking for.

Something interesting did occur,
for the first time in my 37 years of life, I attended
a service just for me. For the first time
I didn't care what the other parishioners
were thinking, or what they thought of me. 
I didn't feel judged or questioned.
I felt that I had come home
and
I arrived back to our house with a sense of hope.

Oh, the shadows, they do lurk, but I know
that a continued patience will bring about
a lot less faking and a lot more living.

That, my friends, is what HOPE is all about
 and since it has 
been missing for awhile 
I will take it.




Enjoy!

XOXO,

Julie