Reflections: A Time For Everything

Note to Reader: In writing this, I am not seeking self-assurance or empty encouragement. Sometimes things just need to be said--However raw, unpolished, or painful.
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I am tired. I am tired of being angry. I'm tired of being the comedian relief and the shoulder to cry on. I'm tired of being angry, of never being good enough. I'm tired of not having a place or being understood. I'm tired of being shut-down and mocked every time I open my mouth. Sometimes, I wish people would let me know in advance if they plan on humiliating me. That way I could be a little more prepared.

I often wonder what people would look like if their physical body were not in the way...If how they felt, thought, and perceived were their outward appearance. What if we could see people for who they truly were? What would I look like? At times, I fear I wouldn't exist at all.

I pray that God will send someone to listen to me. I talk constantly! I'm definitely aware of it, but that isn't what I mean. I want someone who will listen to me. I talk often, but I have a terrible time talking about deep, heart issues. The people I yearn to hear me are the exact people who dash and abuse my confidence the most. They don't seem aware of the months and weeks, hours and days it takes me to form and mold my sentences--or how my heart pounds and my face burns as the words finally leave my mouth.

Humor is my defense mechanism. I learned a long time ago that I'd rather laugh than cry. Kids are mean especially when you don't look like the others. Physical imperfections are usually easily hidden, but mine have always been on my face. No amount of makeup cannot fix an eye that does not look where it should or a scar that hides 14 years of torment. So, I continue to laugh, perhaps one day, I'll convince myself that things are truly as funny as I pretend them to be.

I feel like I don't belong...a terrible in-between feeling. Like stepping out of a warm shower before dressing. I lack a sense of place. Without meaning to, I seem to have outgrown my home...but I still don't quite fit in school. I had a mentor tell me that a butterfly pushes against its cocoon long before it breaks. She said it was its pushing that gave it strength to fly as a butterfly. If the cocoon breaks too early, the butterfly won't be able to survive. But I wonder, what happens if the butterfly stays in the cocoon too long? Will it be damaged then, too?

I tired. I'm tired of working so hard to hold things together. Whether academically, emotionally, or literally, I'm just tired. I've been moving furniture for the past week. I've moved enough times and lived in enough places to know how to maneuver heavy bedroom sets. It's a skill, really. I should add that to my resume, but its just a matter of time before those things need moving again. It's a well know fact that transferred furniture collects nicks and scrapes. Mattresses, nightstands, and desks rack up a long list of injuries through numerous moves, but what about the movers? Physical bumps and bruises leave, but what about those abrasions that go unseen? Do they ever go away? As I move from phase to phase in my life, I'm starting to recognize how sore I am from former travels.

I'm feeling a little stretched and faded as of late. My stretched and faded clothing is the kind that ends up in the trash/get-rid-of pile...And I don't need to end up there. I just need a break...A kind of rest that goes deeper than physical wear and tear. I just need peace, "a peace that surpasses all understanding."