Sliding Down Towards Inevitability

I remember watching the BBC version of CS Lewis' The Silver Chair.  Watching Polly sliding down all that scree into a dark oblivion, without knowing what awaited her at the bottom.  I'm probably getting the facts wrong, it's been awhile, but the emotional memory is what I'm referencing.  I feel as though I am in the same place, going where I must, but feeling like it's leading me to certain doom.  Here I am, standing on the precipice of my life decisions, and I've decided to jump.  A few months back, I quit my job to go full-time as a freelancer.  The job was toxic, so I don't regret quitting.  The salary was meager, so the money is about the same.  Now, I am stuck here believing God has brought me this far, trying to trust his provision, but just not seeing it.  At least, not in the ways I want to see it.  He has provided for me in the funniest ways concerning my apartment, a place that I have tried to maintain as a refuge of the Peace of the Holy Spirit for whenever I have visitors.  I think my biggest fear right now is that I'm doing something completely wrong, my finances will go further south, and I will lose everything here he's brought into my life.  Once again, I feel a carrot being dangled in front of my face.
I suppose I feel stuck.  Getting a desk job is not only damn near impossible in this city, but it also feels like "going back to Egypt" (which is a Biblical phrase referring to the Israelites and their fears of leaving familiarity to head to the promised land).  Getting a part time job in this city is also something that is damn near impossible, because they never have sustainable income (when combined with another job, hence the leaving of the previous job).  I'm not sure what to do or where to go, except forward.  I've sent an agency submission to my first choice, and I haven't heard back yet (oh THAT'S what this is coming from).  It could be up to a month, of what? me sitting on my arse and waiting while I'm ungainfully underemployed?  Going forward at this moment feels like when I had my thyroidectomy.  I had to dress myself in those scrubs, clothes which might have been the last ones I ever wore if they screwed something up.  I had to climb up on that table and expose my neck, knowing it would be slit open in only a matter of minutes.  One botched move, and the surgeon could have taken away my ability to sing or speak ever again (I've probably mentioned this before, sorry/too bad).  But the only thing I could do was go forward, and trust that they knew what they were doing.  As it turns out, the surgeon did such an amazing job, I get wide-eyed incredulity from ultrasound techs.  When Polly slid to the bottom of that underground hill, there was a race of friendly (although glum) people who protected her (sort of, eventually, whatever).  Please, dear God, let this have the same positive result.  I don't need the approval of this agency or any other, I just need to know that I won't lose this sense of refuge that you've put in my heart here.  I want the Peace to dwell in my heart as I live here and look around at the ways in which you've provided, but I fear so deeply to lose it because you won't provide in a way that helps me keep it.  I've longed for a Home for so long, call me a materialist if you like.  It's not about the things, it's about you providing them and then taking them away from me.  You know I don't need more abandonment and confusion.  I guess I'm looking for some hope to hang on to.

Can't Sleep, Thoughts Will Eat Me

I had a late-night conversation with a friend recently about relationships, but the conversation itself was over Facebook chat, so I suppose it wasn’t as profound as it could have been.  It started with my ribbing her over an upcoming blind date, and ended when she had to go to bed.  Before leaving, she quick asked me my “top five” things I would want in a potential mate (freakin A, one of THOSE posts).  It’s hard to choose, but writing them down, I realized how much I’ve grown in the past year.  I had to quick consult the list, yes there’s an actual list, and realizing I hadn’t updated it in 12 months I edited a few things before sharing them with her.

A year ago almost this week, I broke up with someone I had been dating for a few months.  At the time, it felt as though I had given up on my only chance at a family someday, but I knew ultimately I would rather be single than be in a dysfunctional marriage.  This relationship was beyond hope.  About a week later, I became sick. Very sick.  Almost to the point of needing a transfusion, and it happened month. after month.  Several excruciating and inconclusive tests later, the anomaly was gone.  100%  and without explanation.  I know the prayers of my friends and family were what did it, Christ healed me and I don’t know why.  I was relieved, but ungrateful. In the aftermath I was left with feeling like I had been emotionally abused by God.  Like the hope of a family and a happy future had been dangled in front of my eyes and then taken from me on all fronts and then surprise! given back?  Months later, the rage at God is abated, and new fears have taken root to actually drive me closer to him.  Funny how that works, I won’t deny my fickle depression.  In all of this, I’ve learned how much I’ve made an idol out of wanting a family someday, and how more consciously than I’d like I’d started hoping my future husband (I HATE that phrase) would fill the gaps of love in my experiences, and show me what love can really be like.  That's not a fair or healthy expectation to place on him.  But then, you know, sometimes it’s hard to conceive of a God who is truly loving to you personally when you’re too weak to sit up on a couch.

I won’t bother you with my list, but I think the one thing I do want most out of a man is fortitude.  I have a mousy demeanor, but I’m the mouse that roared.  This past year’s struggle was the first time in almost 10 years I had truly fallen to pieces, but somewhere along the paths of my life God has given me the strength and wisdom to see how the pieces fit back together, and why they broke in the first place.  I struggle with depression, and I want someone strong enough to weather that, because I could be strong enough to weather his.  I need someone who is secure enough in himself to not be threatened when I pick up the power drill and do the damn job myself, or perhaps I want someone who’ll see the need and pick up the drill before I have a chance to. 

After my experiences, I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that I am not “owed” any sort of relationship at all.  I must reconcile the bouts of profound loneliness with the fact that God is everything I need, albeit I am too finite and flawed to ever truly perceive or fully realize that until his return.   I need to learn to accept that with grace, which means not consigning myself to some sort of emotional spinster-martyrdom.  Far easier said than done; I know I’m not the first Christian girl to blog about “If Jesus is the only one I need, then why…”  I haven’t accepted it yet, and probably never will if I’m honest.  It’s hard to have grown up in an age where marriage was a given, only to come of age (and beyond) in a world where it’s not.  The waiting game sucks.  My life is happening now.