Lost in the Haze

So I had a wonderful conversation tonight with a friend of mine. He and I generally don't talk about much other than silly things like video games and my depression and pie. Must include the pie. But tonight, we had an incredibly serious conversation about doubt and fear and guilt and God. And I realized that a lot of my spiritual insecurities are related to this one incident in my past. And while I am choosing to not reveal what all happened way back when, I want you to know, strange internet reader, that it was something so important and real and deep and painful that I had practically FORGOTTEN about it. How did I do that? It's like this certain event was too terrible for me to even remember. As if my life were better if I just repressed. But I was forced to relive these memories tonight. My friend pressed me for answers on why I felt betrayed by God. And why I felt unloved by Christians. And I forced myself to dig deep and look back. And I saw an entire path of guilt and doubt and fear descending from this one incident.

Why hadn't I seen it before?

I have tried reconstructing my descent numerous times. When did I fall? At what point did I stop believing? Where did I stray? How did I get to a point where I am terrified that Jesus doesn't love me anymore? Why do I wake up in the morning and feel so empty?

And now I have found this defining moment. I can see the path more clearly. It took unexpected twists and turns, but the fear and the doubt and the guilt...they're all there and they all make more sense. There are actual reasons for my current emotional state. I am not senselessly bitter. And I feel better knowing that. It makes me feel less screwed up.

BUT....

Now that I know how I got to this point, the question still remains.

Where do I go from here?

It's the End of the World as We Know It...

...and I DON'T FEEL FINE.

What is going on here kids? What!? YOU JUST DONT' DO THIS TO BUGS BUNNY.

YOU JUST DON'T.

(click on the pictures for links to stories about this...if you dare)

Oh no he didn't!

I oft-times let the shaving of my legs slide during the winter. Because I'm a girl. And I hate shaving. And I wear pants everyday. And did I mention that I'm single? So it's normally not a big deal, because the only victim of my hairy legs is me. And I can handle a little hair every now and then.

But you know what comes with not shaving your legs? Not shaving your feet. And normally, this isn't a big deal because I firmly believe in NOT pretending that there isn't hair on my toes. All girls have hair on their toes, guys. ALL OF THEM. Don't let them fool you into thinking that hairy toes are only on genetically retarded girls. This is a myth of epic proportions. HAIRY TOES ARE THE NORM. Got it? BUT, I generally don't like it pointed out to me. It's kind of like when a guy points out your stretch marks. Or your unibrow. Or your pouchy belly. You know it's there, but YOU DON'T NEED TO BE REMINDED.

And yet, that's what happened today. I was innocently sitting, feet propped up, when in the most innocent voice possible, [insert name here] said, "You have little black hairs on your big toe."

OH. MY. GOD.

Guys, allow this to be a warning to you. NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER point out hair on a girl's toes. EVER. Unless, of course, you enjoy a full onslaught of insecurity and embarassment. And if that's the case, then go ahead and say it. And while you're at it, toss out that they DO look fat in that outfit and they SHOULD NOT eat that extra piece of cheesecake.

Shutting Him Down

Today, Etch-A-Sketch decided that while we were AT WORK (during WORKING HOURS while I was talking TO A FELLOW EMPLOYEE) was a GREAT TIME to up and yell ACROSS THE AISLE IN FULL HEARING OF OTHERS:

"So, when are we going out?"

My prompt response:

"Never."

And yes it was as heartbreakingly beautiful as it sounds. I was firm, clear, and kind of mean. His friends laughed, he looked embarassed, and I felt foolish, yet strong.

....

Boys.

Beautiful Day

I sometimes wonder how my life would be if I hadn't moved to my current state of residence. I live farther north than I ever wanted to and sometimes the dull winter and dark gray skies overwhelm me. I swim in a sea of melancholy and drink deeply of misery.

It was actually warm the other day. Yes! Warm! Actual heat! With sun! And I was immediately transported to NOT here. I was back in college. Where you could afford the luxury of an outdoor nap on a blanket. Or memorize sonnets while watching frisbee golf. A place where I felt loved and safe and known.

Here, I am only a girl. A strange woman-child who takes on too much and fails often. There is so much failure and disappointment and heartbreak in my history in this state. And I wonder, should I move on?