listen to me now. i need to let you know. you don’t have to go it alone.

If I wander til I die, may I know whose hand I’m in.
I woke up on the floor this morning. It wasn’t even my floor. Rolling to my side, I pushed up to a sitting position. Pain shot through my left hand. A burning, seething ache. I looked down, surprised to find the raw remains of a scrape. Torn skin and dried blood. I pooled my memories from the previous night. You know you’ve had entirely too much to drink when your night ends with a tearful rant and a desperate attempt to walk home alone in the dark without your keys, phone and coat. Or your dignity.

This week has been hard. I’ve been cloaked in a sadness that I can’t escape. Walking under its subtle weight, I grow increasingly tired as the days pass. I’m so tired. I am so tired. That phrase poured out of me in repetition. I am trying so hard. I have been so good. I am so tired. I am empty. I’m exhausted. I am so very, very lonely. My heart aches. Every inch of me feels brittle and fragile. Hold me. Carry me. I can’t go anymore.

My transition back to The Nut has been less than ideal. I love these girls. Jenn is my model of gentle and quiet. The spirit that I strive for. She cares for my heart and speaks boldly in its dark places. She distracts me with Christmas trees and films and lets me be a morning person even though she may not enjoy my pre-coffee inquiries.
Staci had my heart the moment I met her. She and Tess helped me find a job at Starbucks and when Denise got married she became my roommate. Kitchen chats and coffee conversations. This girl loves the Lord and she made me want him more. But she has been distant. I have felt so much space between us. And it hurts and I miss her. I know a lot of her bestest friends live on the left coast, but I wish that would mean more room for me. Instead I feel like I am in her way, And that is the last thing I want. This girl is going to do great things.
Lauren is my newest friend. We bonded over chocolate cake. What more can a girl ask for? She is bold and I love her pointed questions. Life is too short for small talk. Know my heart. Know me. Love me. And she makes it okay. She asks the hard questions. And shares the rough stories. She is energy and her constant movement makes me feel a little more settled than I was. Shows me a shift in my heart. And I pray that we can teach each other this new calm. Settle the voices. Drown out the lies.
Daisy is on her way. A soon to be roomie. But I already count her. She has been a huge blessing to me in so many ways. How can someone move into your heart without you even noticing. It’s like she has always been there. My lil’ burrito. This tiny frame that houses the grandest faith and hope. A demonstration of trust. I pray for even a fraction of her perseverance. God is good.
I pray a peace and calm over this house. For protection and trust. I don’t feel at ease when I walk through the door. The walls that hold these magnificent hearts also hold painful memories. A girl I am not anymore. I feel like I am moving backwards. I am in the same physical place. Although emotionally and spiritually I am far removed, I am having great difficulty separating the experience. Why would I go through all the troubles of the summer to end up in the same exact place? That is what is grating on me. It looks the same, but it is entirely different. I am different. And I get caught up in the look of things. Distracted by the bright and shiny. What the world is telling me. My defenses are down. I am weak and vulnerable. And to make matters worse my clothes fit tighter than I would like, and I panic. Gripping. Suffocating. An irrational fear sends me spiraling. I lurch for any sense of control. A false sense. Lies. I feel inadequate and useless. Unemployed. Distressed at providing for myself in such a tough time. And I find myself flailing. Frantically flittering around. Hold still. Just be.

“You are too independent.” He stood in front of me, towering over my Indian style. A subtle accusation? No. A bold statement of the all too obvious truth. It took my wind. Like a punch in the gut. I sat alone in the lamplight deflated and defiant. I can do this on my own. It’s all I know.

Tough, you think you've got the stuff
You're telling me and anyone
You're hard enough

You don't have to put up a fight
You don't have to always be right
Let me take some of the punches
For you tonight

Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone.
-U2

A bold faced lie. I have never been alone. I have never been on my own. I have emotional amnesia. I am loved. And I forget this at every turn. I am staying in Charlotte. At least for the time being, and I continue to anticipate the worst when faced with inquiries about my plans. Like somehow I am a disappointment because I did not fulfill my original plan. Wholeheartedly expecting my friends to be surprised I am sticking around. Laughing at my failed attempts. How can I know these people and even question their love and affection, let alone create these fears and formulate rejections. Why don’t I believe I am loved? Why is it so hard for me to accept help? To not feel like a burden. A mess. Something to be handled.

I finished reading Redeeming Love. A four hundred sixt-eight page challenge set before me by miss Lauren. An assignment of sorts. I read it to be done with it. To be able to set it aside. To mark it off the list of things to do. But I got sucked in. And I found annoying parallels to my own life. I don’t want to relate to this broken woman. I don’t want to feel her pain. I am not the same. I am strong. I will not fall into my old ways. I am independent. But that is my trap. The cycle that I turn in. While Angel falls into her abusive past, giving herself away, I return to my OCD tendencies. Any semblance that I have it all together. Don’t ask for help. I’ve got it all under control. But I watched her spirit change. I watched her learn her way. And I want to know that lesson.

“I learned a long time ago we’ve control of little in this world. It doesn’t belong to us. It’s out of our hands…You are worrying about things you cant control. Just take things one day at a time.”

I am impossibly stubborn. I insist on my way. Hiding myself away from the Lord. Busying myself with stupid details that don’t matter. I want so badly to be fixed. To be mended. To be healed. But my brokenness has me running circles. Embarrassed and afraid. I run from the business of God’s love, too preoccupied with my own desires. This is what I want Lord. This is what I need. Let me tell you. Let me spell it out for you. Let me yell and stomp my feet. Do you notice me? Do you see me? Do you have any idea how I feel? I am so lonely and scared. I want what I want. And I want it now. Forget the fact that I have a roof over my head. And the greatest friends. I am selfish and ungrateful. I am too focused on what I don’t have. The husband that my heart breaks for. The family I already love. The children I feel I already know. I haven’t even met them yet, but I love them. Was I born in the wrong time period? Why does working a farm and cooking and cleaning appeal to me so immensely? Why am I finding it nauseating to think about another eight to five career move. Unmotivated to place myself in that daily grind. My strongest desire is to be a wife and mother. Why is the only thing I really want the one thing I have absolutely no control over. I hate it. And I find myself in a heap on the floor bawling my eyes out. I want all the things you have promised me. But I want them now. Where is my “Michael”?

I read Eat, Pray, Love last year. And my heart has orbited around Gilbert’s words. Her experiences. And I keep coming back to the description of her love. The feeling of being picked. The immense joy that must bring. The ultimate compliment.

“He saw me at the party that night, standing with my back to him, and how I did not even need to turn my head and show him my face before he had realized somewhere deep in his gut, “that is my woman. I will do anything to have that woman.”

Hold still, Audrey. Just be. Breathe. Rest. Let yourself be cared for. Taken care of. I am especially fond of you. You are already mine. You are loved.