Journal Entry: September 2, 2014

These past few days I have been crying over the littlest things in my life–from the sight of the children chasing colorful balloons along the dingy roads to the random remembrance of all of my fears. Yesterday, I cried over my ever-chaotic commute and longed for home…or just any place that is far from this blood-sucking, energy-draining city where I am currently in. Last night, I was not able to sleep well, trying to draw out the beautiful words stuck at the tip of my tongue and cried the ugliest tears over this creativity hiatus. I’ve been constantly feeling like my sluggish body is struggling to go with the world’s fast-paced flow. I know I have to keep up but it’s the most difficult thing to do because my emotions are failing me.

It is indeed hard to be grateful for a lot of things when you’re going through a state of emotional devastation such as this. The stupid questions about your self-worth and the fear of not being good enough for all the people you love will always be present, same as the pain of what you decisively termed as cowardice. And they will defeat you over and over. In times like this, we can feel that we, as Christians, have [unfortunately] been reconnected with the sinful realm that is the world–we feel like our humanity is slowly making us forget the love that we have from and for our Creator.

I grew up being taught (though indirectly) that there is no room for emotional instability in the Christian life–that being anxious or depressed or sad are “not very Christian” and that we should continually strive to acquire all the good feelings and shoo away all the bad ones. Years later, I became a person condemning her own vulnerabilities, perfectly ashamed of coming to the Lord because of the mistaken idea that what I feel dishonors the Lord.

For twenty-one years (even if I am always present in church activities) I can say that I have lived a life outside the Lord’s kingdom because of guilt and ignorance to his all-encompassing love. But I am glad have seen things in a different perspective now.

As I write this, I am all the things I have described in my opening paragraph and even more–I am perplexed, scarred, aching for answers that I seemingly do not get [yet]. But unlike other people suffering from emotional chaos, I am grateful for a lot of things. This morning I can’t help but thank the Lord for my loving boyfriend who woke up early to drive me to work (he knows that I have been really stressed with my morning commute) and who led me to prayer before accelerating his car. I thank the Lord for my friends who support me during this time of my life–for questions out of concern, for pats in the back, for warm hugs. I thank the Lord for my family who have always been there to accept me with arms wide open.

Things are not good, but because of God’s consuming love, I am not consumed (Lamentations 3:19-24). In my brokenness, I come to him, waiting for brighter things.