I feel like I’m going to explode and I’m hanging on a very tiny thread. God, I know you’re with me and you see all. But I hate this season. I really hate that I had to cancel my classes today. I wasn’t expecting that and I hate curve balls. I hate that you’ve totally stopped me from going into my mental rant and have me on here writing out my thoughts. I hate that you’re carving out everything I know to do when things feel uncomfortable or unpredictable. I’m completely free-falling. You’re creating the habits you want me to practice and they’re apparently happening organically.
I really hate that my dad’s prostrate level is high. I hate I’m okay with the fact that I don’t have to hold it all together. I hate that my grandmother is dead. I miss laying down with her. I always drew from her strength.
I really hate that my mom over eats. I beyond hate that my brother chain smokes and locks himself in his room breathing in his polluted second and third hand self inflicting smoke. I hate that I think my parents and brother are so selfish living in their destruction.
I hate that my brother’s psyche is being consumed by violent games all day long. I worry for his lungs and cry myself to sleep at seeing the people I love the most not love themselves because they do not fully know you God. I’m cried out.
I hate that you took away me hiding in my anger. I hate that I can’t do anything about any of this but just call on your name and pray. Sometimes I feel like it’s not enough but there is power in the name of Jesus and you hear all prayers.
I find comfort in this fact. It’s one of the main things that keep me going. I hate that Harper* and I don’t speak. It’s absolute insanity to me that speaking to him would be comforting. Even silence with him would be soothing and that makes no sense to me and it pisses me off.
I hate being confused in the sense of clarity. Everything has to make sense for me to function. Or so I thought. Clearly. I’m incorrect because I’m more than functioning.
I hate that you have me in a fog to teach me to just walk on faith. It’s so whack. I hate that I think I’ll hear bad news on Thursday when I go with my dad for this procedure.
I hate that you made me a super positive person. I hate that I feel guilty for thinking the worse will happen. I hate that you’re giving me no indication on what will occur.
I hate that I find solace in a crowded cafe surrounded by eyeballs when I love being locked up in my room isolated. Isolation is comfort.
People hurt you and it’s disappointing.
I cannot be in my house. I can’t see my father act like he’s on his last days and verbally lashing out. I can’t see my mom eat herself to oblivion when she’s got health issues. I hate that she’s taking the fact we have no idea why she was in the hospital in December so lightly. I can’t see my brother chain smoke. It’s all too draining.
I hate that I loved the amazing fellowship I experienced last night because it proved I was wrong. I hate being wrong. But I’m blessed I was. I hate that I’m okay with messing up. I hate that I’m accepting I’m flawed and will always miss the mark.
There are amazing God-fearing women like my sisters last night that I can be friends with outside of Jojo* it’s not an act. They truly want unity and sisterhood too, and it makes me leap with joy. You made sure that I epically failed at pushing Jojo* away. Thank you for that determination God.
You had to prove to me that previous observations of fakeness and past hurts could not subconsciously close me off to everyone. God you blow my mind. I’m so stubborn. You know this about me yet you still love me and you’re still with me and still want to make me better: bratty me. Why?!
I hate that I don’t think I deserve it and I want you to forget me. I hate that you won’t because I know I shouldn’t feel that way because “I know better.” I know nothing.
I no longer find peace in my room. I hate that you’re making me uncomfortable in my isolation bubble to the point where it probably no longer exists.
I hate that you’re tendering my heart even more. I hate that you’re carving out the sting and the residue of past hurts. This is all allowing me to be more vulnerable. It’s already happening and I’m still here, the world didn’t collapse as I thought it would. I still hate it though.
I hate that in this out of control feeling I still find peace. I don’t understand these emotions. I have no idea what’s about to happen. I know you’re holding my right hand and that’s what keeping me from sinking.
I hate that you’re making me uncomfortable in my isolation bubble to the point it probably no longer exist.
I don’t understand how I can be so frustrated to the point of swearing (then you of course convict me into repentance) yet I’m freely at peace. I don’t recognize this calmness.
Before salvation during moments like these I’d be ready to slit my wrists or do something completely self sabotaging since dying wasn’t an option to you. I have no desire to do any of that. Your will not mine.
I hate that I’m no longer a fixer. There is NOTHING I can fix in this season. Fixing is all I knew how to do. This is all so new for me. Like what’s really life right now? Being a fixer is dismantled and the world didn’t end. I want to be numb but you dismantled that as well.
I hate that I’m free-falling and this stretching process is okay with me. I hate that I don’t understand my own calmness. I never thought I would be capable to be so zeroed in on you God. This extremely frustrating feeling of wanting to explode is not fearful. I’m walking on water.
I hate that I don’t know this daughter to the king Crysta like the back of my hand. It’s not your will for me to know that and I’m okay with that.
I hate that I’m not uncomfortable with not knowing what’s around the corner. I truly understand the only foundation you ever want all your children to comprehend is the free-falling fact of faith. You are our foundation. You allow us to see what we need to and you teach us to be okay with that no matter what. The tidal waves I’m experiencing now and will in the future are all apart of your grand design; I’m walking on the water as my eyes are fixed on you and that will never change.
I trust you God. I believe in you. I’ll never stop looking up. That I don’t hate and I never will. You will always be my anchor. I love you beyond expression.
Love your daughter.
This is path called life belongs to Jesus Christ.
*names changed for privacy purposes. #TeamProPrivacy