I should be working or reading or...

I’m taking a break from my real job (that I am doing at 8pm at night , sigh). The truth is my mind is elsewhere, or I should say, it wants to be elsewhere. I flip between formatting curriculum and facebook, every once and a while, taking time to skim over an article that someone has posted or sneak a peak at their most recent pics. Yes, I have the attention span of a two year old. Just call me Dori.

For so many of the things I see my heart is tossed by the waves and wind. My mind is full and my heart is heavy with the burdens of life, not only my own but others. Perhaps it is the mundaneness of paragraph styles and tabs (which pretty much sums up what I do) that make my heart scream, “if you only knew me. Really knew me, knew my heart. Knew the things that make me weep, that make me laugh and that make me angry. Maybe, just maybe you wouldn’t think I was….whatever it is that makes you think that I’m not.” I feel like saying, this isn’t me.

The person you think I am – it’s not me.

You see, I feel like life has become so busy, so hectic and so unstable that all I can do is hold on to my small piece of drift wood and keep my head above water.

And that is not a true reflection of who a person is. That is just a soggy mess.

I remember being the mother of a two year old and one morning, as I sat in a room full of young moms, saying, “I just don’t like being angry all the time. I am normally a very patient person.” To which someone replied, “Motherhood brings out who we really are.”

Friends, that is a lie. I am not an angry person. I am not a short-tempered person and generally speaking, I am a patient person. But when you have a busy toddler, there are times, when these traits come out. But they are not who you are. They do not define you. That is like telling an addict that who they are when they are strung out is who they really are.

This is not who I am. This is not who God made me to be. To be honest, I don’t even think I am truly honouring God with my life right now, in all of its busyness and unbelief. Because all busyness does is create a diminishing capacity to love. But quite frankly, at this juncture, I am not sure how to change it.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because I can’t help but wonder if there is someone else out there who is hurting, or lonely, or sad. And somebody is telling them that that is who they truly are.

It’s not.

But they don’t have anyone to talk to or anyone to share with or anyone who cares.

This “suggested” page showed up on my facebook wall today. And I thought, is this what it has come to? 1-800-therapist. Because all we want is someone to talk to and there is no one there? No one who will listen? Because we are all afraid to leave our houses, or shoulder another person’s burden? Friends, where is community? I wish I had an answer but I too often find myself in this same place, afraid I am going to emotionally vomit all over the next person to ask me, “How are you?” or if you are in Britain, “You alright?” When really, they don’t care.

The ironic part is that I am putting this all out into the void instead of holding someone’s hand, but all the while hoping someone will say, “I’m not alone” OR that someone who is already in the lifeboat or better yet, a fat-ass yacht, will reach down to one of us drifters and say, “Come on board. Let me help you up.”

I have no good way to end this. So I am just going to post a cute picture.