This last year out of college has been hell. I do not have another word to describe it. I guess I can be positive about it and describe it as a “period of growth” or even worse, “an opportunity for change.” Bleh! It just seems to be getting more and more…special.
Of course I am aware that there are people worse off than me, and that I should be grateful for what I have. But everyone’s battles are different, and they all affect us in different ways. My circumstances may not even phase my sister, for all I know, or she may have a mental break down instead if she had experienced what I have so far, and vice versa.
I always imagine what would happen if my life turned out like Job, and I lost EVERYTHING. All the material things I had become accustomed to, and my loved ones. Wow, I have no idea how I would handle it. But now I think about whether losing everything without it physically going away would be a worse fate than that.
Leaving college and moving in with my parents was a struggle. IS a struggle. However, that also coincided with a super hectic holiday schedule last year coupled with issues with my boyfriend at the time. Suddenly, work became easier, problems at home appeared to get better, but then there was my rollarcoaster ride with him. I broke up with him. We got back together. Our issues became bigger, and we broke up again before he left for graduate school. I have also had emotional and physical encounters with members of the male species that were not appropriate or healthy. I ended up meeting a guy, older, but still reasonable, and well, I erroneously thought I could move on. then SHIT HIT THE FAN. Ever since, I feel I have been a part of this downward loop of gloom that has not let me go. In these last six months that I met him, I have undergone such emotional pain and possibly, some serious emotional trauma. Having to see the parents I idealized and elevated on a daily basis, judge someone so harshly without getting to know him, having them question the very faith they proclaim to have that you embraced and called your own, having them almost push you over the edge with their words to the point of almost rejecting the Bible and its teaching – the one thing that captures the very essence of myself – and to the point of wanting to die and not to wake up the next day. (Yes, I know, looooong sentence.)
I cry just thinking about it. Hands down, the worst time of my life.
Come to find, my messed up self did not handle my break-up appropriately and in this new, awkward and hurt-filled relationships with this new guy, I realized I have unresolved issues with my ex-boyfriend. Coincidentally, I am thrown in a tizzy about it. Completely shocked at the affect he still has on me, and the fact that I need to grieve appropriately in order to move forward, I realized a couple of unflattering things about myself which resulted in only pushing me further in this hole of self-hate.
I sit here and I have no idea how to feel normal again. I can’t remember the last time I went through 24 hours without tears filling my eyes and my throat crawling to hide in my throat. As if that can protect it from the world.
And just as I had a break-through in an attempt to convince him to sit down and speak with me when he’s in town, and just as I seemed to make unconventional amends with another guy I made a fool of myself to, I get an “unofficial” write up at work. It’s called a “record of discussion,” which means, we talked about it, it’s official, and the next time you mess up, you’re in trouble. I was FURIOUS. Not only because I think it was as a result of displaced anger and frustration by my boss, but there were no solutions or game plans set up to fix it. It was our fault – end of discussion.
I get home, I do not feel like going to Rite Aid with my mom because I have work and other things to do and ALL OF A SUDDEN I am “selfish” and “egotistical.” I struggled so badly to not roll my eyes and look up at the sky with a sigh of disgust, “Here we go again….” Apparently, I can’t do anything right.
It’s been a year at my job and a year and a half since I graduated college. Somewhere in the middle, I lost myself. I tripped and fell and I do not have the strength to get up.
Something inside me tells me that there is purpose in all the struggle. There is beauty in the broken. I mean, the Bible tells us to rejoice about your struggles because the testing of our faith produces steadfastness, but what if I can’t see that. What do I do now? I feel so broken, so beyond repair. I tell Him, “Jesus, I don’t know how much more I can take before my thoughts go further south and further into a darkness of no return. Just please….please…give me a break before I am the one that breaks into a million pieces.”
Lord, give me peace.