As I looked at the sky and saw the stars wanting to show their light but were hidden by the clouds and city lights, I wished I was in Tennessee again. Actually, I was supposed to be in Tennessee again. That day. That night. Last night.
I was diagnosed with shingles about less than three weeks ago. I know, CRAZY. My body is on strike and it demands time, patience and love. I keep thinking I'm okay and that my body will push through, but it just may have reached its limits.
For about a week now I've been thinking about seeing a psychologist. There's a lot of things in my heart and mind that I haven't dealt with that I need to deal with. I've never felt understood, or like I fit in or belonged. Especially after last night.
Cachi's wedding.
I can't believe that she's married. Someone said, "Oh, I didn't cry because it felt like they've been married for a long time". No, they haven't. They've been together for almost 7 years and not once was their relationship easy or even seemed like they were married. Not because they lacked commitment but because of outsiders that decided they knew what was best for them. They've fought hard to get to where they want to get and I couldn't be happier for them and for all the endurance they carried. Giving up seems like the best option sometimes, why keep fighting something that may not be there? Maybe everyone else is right. But what about when you hold on to something, because despite what everyone else is telling you in your little heart you know that what you're doing is right. There's so many things wrong with the world, but believing in love and fighting for it is not one of them.
Everything was so beautiful. The decorations, the lighting, the dresses, even the $150 cake centerpiece. The conversation was lovely. I was talking to Jon's uncle and he was telling me about he got saved and accepted Christ as his savior. He was so happy to be talking about his conversion and I was so happy to hear his testimony. God works in mysterious ways and last night he wanted me to remind me once again of how deeply he loves. His family was so loving, his son and daughter in law so welcoming. I connected with them. I told them a little about myself, a little of what my heart carries. Then the uncle asked, "So do you go to Claribel's church or where do you go?" I didn't want to answer that question, but I chewed on my piece of churrasco, gulped and answered, "I'm Catholic." As if I was afraid we wouldn't be friends anymore and that there would now be a wall between us. Catholicism had been forced down his throat and his wife had separated from the Catholic church and were now the blacksheep of the family. As all of this was going on, DJ and Nick were next to me and were probably wondering what planet I came from. I spoke to them all night, laughed and danced away, but there was no connection. I wanted to bond with them but there was nothing to bond. Even the few moments I thought that I had finally hooked on to something, it was a dead end. I told them, "I'm sorry I'm kind of boring". They quickly answered, "No no no no not at all"
Why do I keep doing that? Why do I keep saying sorry for being myself? I keep thinking there's something wrong with me. As I looked at familiar faces last night I wondered, "Why can't I be a normal 20-year old? Why am I worried about things out of my reach? Why can't I just enjoy the moment for what is and be young, wild and free?"
Those questions still haunt me this morning. I wanted to go out to this party at midnight last night, but didn't because my body was still weak and my mother being gone for the weekend wasn't an excuse for me to take advantage of her trust. I wouldn't have enjoyed myself, though. Everyone would have probably gotten drunk and I would have again felt left out. I kind of wanted to go because Nick was going to be there. I know, what's gotten in to me? But he's 20 and we could learn a lot from each other. Except that we don't want the same things and aren't even on the same path. Neither was any other guy around me last night.
Even Ken. The guy that I'm connected to the most and closest to in age. He doesn't understand. This is me. I'm "indescreta" because I want to share and connect. I feel very trusting and comfortable around people, which is a bit naive of me, but I'm built that way. I am an open book and I am the way I am whether we be in person or not. He doesn't get that. He doesn't get me. He's trying to change me. His words were "I'm trying to help you, so that you improve and become better". But what's wrong with me now? Why can't I be accepted for who I am? All my life I've had trouble with not being accepted for myself, so why am I still being attacked when I'm finally reaching a point of acceptance? I know you love me, and I know they do, but you're not helping me, you're hurting me.
It takes someone special to understand the way you're built and to know you. To see you. Diana sees me. We can have such a great time and still go back and forth on meaningful topics. Just being ourselves. So does Ana. Always on the same road of doubts and uncertainties, but still bask in what is love and life. And Anabel. Always on the road to self-discovery, but still enjoy the little joys of life and what it means to be happy. And Alena. Taking each day with a step towards a brighter future, a brighter friendship.
I've found a group of people that I can connect with. That see ME. I don't do things to harm people. I don't do them to bring attention to myself. I'm not going to tippy-toe around anyone. Love me. Accept me. ME.
But first, I need to love myself. Accept myself. Accept that I'm never going to be out drunk partying. Accept that I have flaws, but that they can be used for good. Accept that I'm not perfect, that I shouldn't have to be. Accept that I just want to love. Accept that I just want to be loved. Accept that unfortunately I am not going to connect with everyone that comes my way. Accept that I am not normal. Accept that I'm different. Accept that I have a God that loves me more than anything in this world and universe. Accept that He sent His only Son for me. Accept Jesus into my heart. Accept Him into my heart.
Thank you, Father. You built me this way and shaped me into this weird, oddly loving girl. The only thing I should be sorry for is not loving you enough.
