So, I was riding the T home from service tonight, convinced that my lack of life partner was a punishment for my many sexual sins. Well, that took all of a week.
In the course of my discussion with the Lord, which continued onto the bus and through my walk home, I was trying to figure out why I had such a difficult time releasing this relationship thing to the Lord's control. The very idea of waiting for His timing brings me such a terrible sense of distress, and that seems strange to me given how much else I have seen God do in my life and the lives of others. When I know the amazing things that happen when He is in control, why am I so convinced that I'm going to have to make my own way when it comes to dating and marriage?
And then this nagging little voice popped up in my head: "No one ever picks me." It's hard for me to believe that one day, without me fishing for it, someone is going to look at me and what they know about who I am and think, "There's a special person I'm really attracted to," because the last time that happened was over a decade ago (in July 1999, if you're curious about dates). That was also the last time any Christian man showed more than a "sisterly" interest in me. I look at my dating life here in Boston since college, and I see that the only time I date is when I put up the big "Available" billboard on the internet; no one else who gets to know me in my regular life - work, school church - ever seems to think I'm a worthy candidate.
No matter what I say in the front of my head, that history is always rumbling around in the back of it. And I wonder why it's like that, and what happened or what I did or what I'm like that makes me ... undesirable. I got fatter, that's for sure; 1999 probably marks the last time I could be described as "athletic," let alone slender. And I may have gotten more depressed; sometime the following year marked the start of my serious adult depressive episodes, after a break during the high school and college years that I didn't appreciate nearly enough at the time. Perhaps there's an air of dating desperation than began wafting off me about that same time, as 24 was the start of the period when I was supposed to get married according to my 20-year plan. Could be a big fish/small pond phenomenon: while might I look amazingly smart and sweet and normal among the pool of online dating ads, I may be only so-so in the ocean of the real world.
Whatever the reason(s), history has me convinced that I have to mount a determined campaign to make myself a dateable woman. For kicks, I'm equally sure that my bedroom skills are the only things about me in high demand; neither my intelligence, my accomplishments, my caring, nor my beauty (such as it may be) are nearly as memorable or worth keeping around. I am clearly the woman you sleep with, not the woman you marry ... which is a laugh riot for someone who so passionately desires to be married.
Of course, it is my fault in the end. Had I chosen to remain virtuous and obedient, I wouldn't have been able to become that woman in the first place. I can hardly whine because my choices have consequences; it's not like I wasn't warned.
I want to hand all this over to God, but I am deathly afraid that means committing to a life of celibacy and singleness, because I have lost the opportunity for anything else. And looking into a future of singleness feels like looking into a black hole, so filled with my own despair and loneliness that I'd rather just end it now. Or just throw up my hands, give up on finding real love and partnership, and resign myself to getting whatever I can, whenever I can. Only the fear of what God will do to me at the Judgment is keeping me from either course.
(To any single women reading this: Don't listen to me. Do not take on my screwed up thoughts as any judgment or prediction for your own lives. Go live the beautiful lives God has given you, and please do a better job at being thankful and contented than I am currently doing.)
I hate myself for being so ungrateful, so untrusting, and such a freaking whiner. Blah blah blah blah blah; get over it already, and go do something useful.
Monday, January 25, 2010
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2 comments:
Oh, Brandy. You realize you're being bonkers, right? Which is okay. There are stressful times in our lives that send us into bonker-dom and breakups are among them. The summer I was buying my condo, I was reduced to tears over paint chips because "I just don't have an eye for color ..." I mean, full-on sobs. Also one day I lost my car. (Drove to lunch, walked back to the office, went out at the end of the day and was mightily confused. We eventually figured it out. Co-workers found the entire situation Hi-larious.)
But the point is, this doesn't last. I can now walk through the entire paint section at the hardware store without even getting misty. ;)
Trying to talk yourself out of the bonker-dom is a quest that fails before it begins. But maybe you can say "Hmmm, this is the bonkers talking" and some part of you may be able to recognize that and know it'll pass.
But if I wasn't bonkers, who would keep you entertained? ;)
I am much better now; I was actually doing alright later in the day, just had to do a mental/emotional flush. Most of the time, I'm actually pretty happy with what God's doing in my life ... I just get knocked over once in a while by this particular issue.
But it's encouraging to know that while we've been knocked down, neither of us is knocked out yet!
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