There is a brilliantly talented guy here in Nashville, a photographer by the name of Jeremy Cowart. In an effort to connect to people, he's started a little Twitter project called "TruThursday." The concept is that every Thursday he'll share things about himself he's normally not so open to share. Some funny, some embarassing, others defacing.
Because I don't Twitter, I wasn't sure how I would contribute to this "#TruThursday" concept. Instead of caving and getting a Twitter account, I decided to make a Note on FB. Below is my contribution:
[Here's my attempt at it. Untagged. If you stumble upon it, then, so be it... If not, then it will sit in this void]
I've been staring at the full moon the past couple of days in a sort of wanderlust mixed with the faintest of melancholy.
Tonight as I "ran", Sleeping At Last's "Keep No Score" playing on trusty, old Engelbert Humperdink (aka iPod), the perfume of wet Earth and fresh laundry wafting through the night air, I felt my heart begin to tear. Memories I hid deep within taunted me as they forced themselves up to the surface and flooded my eyes.
I thought of my dad and my heart broke. Again.
It's been a dozen years since the divorce. Half that since I last heard his voice or saw his aging face.
As I think of him, I am filled with a longing, with a deep sense of... emptiness.
Running through the darkness, the memories soured within. Like bile, my body heaved unsuccessfully to rid itself of them.
If I am to be utterly honest -- and if I really allow Truth to illumine my heart and reveal its hidden parts -- you would see that I am quite scared and find it terrifying to trust others at times. I am prone to fears of abandonment and rejection, of being unloved. Unloveable. Forgotten.
For the past few years, I have consciously let people see all this brokenness (well, at least the parts I allow them to see). I've unwrapped these broken wings and hoped for gentle hands to take care in handling them (me). However emotionally risqué and draining, letting people in has been cathartic. Ironically, though, the fear is rising up again...
As I let a new set of people in and give way to this life unfolding in Nashville, I am nervous. [Truth be told, there have already been some here who have not taken heed to my pleas to be gentle and patient and who have instead trampled my heart to the ground.]
All this I confess to say that I am angry with my "dad". Still. Even now. 12 years later. [I thought I was passed it all.]
This man who was ordained (charged) by Heaven itself to protect and steer me bailed when things became difficult. LONG before the divorce. Just when I was growing into me, into my skin (into a woman), he was checking out emotionally. [Parenthood just wasn't as fun as he'd thought, I suppose.]
This person who was to show me how a man should treat me and what one of godly, God-fearing integrity looked like, didn't. Instead he was absent at best; angry and burdened by us at worst.
I was supposed to be the apple of his eye. He was supposed to tell me that I was his princess. That I am beautiful. That only the luckiest, most special of men would be worthy of me. But, he didn't and never has.
Most days I can repress these fears and thoughts. Most days I am able to laugh and love and live. But, every once in a while, I find a way back to this Trail of Tears. And when I do, it's a struggle to remind myself of the Truth. That...
I.
AM.
LOVED.
Deeply and wholly and intimately.
There is One who painstakingly and thoughtfully, penned every part of my story and weaved every inch of this tapestry that is my life. There exist pages in this book He's written in me that are stained with tears of joy and heartache, others He's dog-eared and bookmarked as important life-changing moments in my life He'd like to keep record of (for my sake).
I want to be thankful for it all, honestly, I do... But... it's a hard pill to swallow sometimes when there's a full moon on the horizon and you're body is retching to let go of the pain.
No comments:
Post a Comment