Maybe you shouldn't tell anyone your secret. Maybe you should never listen to me.
You know, I had really thought I made progress this year, but in a matter of three days I lost it all. I'm back at square one: a sobbing, lonely, angry, irritable, heartbroken mess.
And besides, what did telling my secret ever do for me? No one is here for me. Not even my parents lately. Everyone gets to go on living their lives, complaining about all the things they "have" to do. God! Do you know how much I beg God to give me the ability to do the things I "have" to do?! I wish I had things to complain about, because at least I would have things...
I have nothing. No one.
No one checks up on me. No one asks how I'm doing. No one sends a card saying they are thinking of me. No one does anything! Practically ever!
They go on living their lives like that's normal. Like it's a burden to be so busy. Some of us dream of being that lucky.
And I sit idly by watching them live and breathe and work and fall in love, alone, in my room, crying myself to sleep from loneliness. Wondering what I did wrong. Why don't they care? Why don't they love me enough to do something for me? Anything? Why have they forgotten about me? What's more important than what I'm barely getting through, and getting through alone?!
All it takes is 30 seconds on Facebook to remind me I have nothing. I have no one. And if I can't be loved for who I am now...what's gonna happen when my life only gets worse? Who will love me then?
God it hurts. Loneliness. It's so much worse than suffering. It's suffering alone. It's almost unbearable at times. I mean, I try to play it off. I try to remind myself they are busy. I try to remember we all have our own burdens to bear, but...
It's that ever ubiquitous imp nipping at me, telling me to compare, to take things out of context--pushing me into believing I'm the worst off and they are all selfish. Putting themselves and their lives above my pain? How dare they? Who the hell do they think they are? Don't they know my life is worse than theirs and thus they should be helping me?!
Joss Whedon's logic, that we all have pain so loud it often prevents us from hearing the pain of others, gets cloudy and dim and begins to fade away. It gets to the point where I want to believe the lies, because it's easier to be angry than lonely.
I want to believe they are horrible people. That they are wrong and I am right. And maybe I am, but it ceases to be the point. The point is, sadly, that I'm human and there is no cure--not in this lifetime. And that sucks. And so I do anything I can to avoid, hide from, and cover up the pains and frustrations of being alive.
We do all we can to escape ourselves, our reality--the Truth! And often the easiest way to "cope" with this life we were forced to live, is to place blame, instead of looking deeper into ourselves to find the truth and accept it.
I know all of this. I really do. But for a few times a year, I ignore truth and logic and I give in to the lies because every once in a while, I need them. I need to get lost in the emotional side of this experience. I need to be able to place the blame on someone other than myself and humanity and reality. I need to break down. I need to break open. I need to feed the monster until he is so full he will leave running and not return for a while. I need to get it, that thing, that "beast of a thing inside my chest" -as Donald Miller calls it--out, in whatever way I can. And pretty much always, it needs cried out of you.
It's as if all those uncried tears have stored and stored inside and once they reach their maximum capacity in your heart, it spreads to your lungs and stomach, to your throat, all the way to your brain and can only escape from the tears in your eyes and the snot from your nose. And that's it. There's no other way to get that beast, that sharp, tangled, heavy, dark, bleeding beast of a thing inside, out. Even if it's just a few good cries a year, you have to do it.
You feed the monster, get it so full it's sick and it screams to escape, and then just let it do it's thing: let it run. Get angry. Get sad. Get lonely. Give into it and then get it out. No matter how much it hurts physically, emotionally, socially, spiritually--feed the beast until he begs to leave. And then let him go.
So, L, I'm not sure it matters if you tell people your secret. I think it only matters why you tell them. Some may be there for you in ways you never knew you could be loved, while others may never talk to you ever again. That's just how it works because we are human. Because we are broken. Because the cure won't come until the end.
Until then, be you. All of you. For the right reasons. And you will learn, the hard way yes, but its necessary to living, who really loves you, and who, well, doesn't love you as much as you thought they would--or should. And when they don't, hold on to reason and truth as long as you can, but the second you reach that maximum occupancy on your emotional scale, that very second, give in and get it out. All of it, or else it will come back faster and more often than you want it to.
Embrace your humanity L. All of it. God has a purpose for both the truth and the lies. He has a purpose for you. All of you. And if people don't know all of you, because you're too busy hiding it, than He can't use that part of you for His purposes.
So, either way, you know some people will step it up when they get to know all of you, and you know some will drop the ball. But that is life. The life He has given you. Live all of it, no matter how much it hurts, because He planned this whole story out just for you and it would be a shame if you didn't live every chapter and page of it. Go. Do. Live. Tell. Cry. And live again.
Sincerely, Truthfully,
Your Sis, Zoe
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