Where I am…

Preface

I hesitate to make this public because it can drastically change the way people interact with me. I write this not to get any pity or to even make others understand. I write this for those who have felt the same. I write this because it has weighed on my heart to share. So before you read the following, please know that this is how I feel sometimes (not always). Please know that God is good and righteous and I am grateful for the work he has done. Please know that this is raw and somewhat unfiltered.

“How are you doing?”

When asked how I am doing, sometimes I say that I am alright. “Alright” is the shortest distance between two points: the point of truth and the end of the conversation. It is the quickest way I can sum up my location.

Where I am…

I am in between the words of God;
Clinging to the last and awaiting the next,
Fighting for solace in the onslaught of silence,
Having conversations with ghosts about a benevolent God,
And hopelessly hopeful.

I stand as one with the melancholy sentiment of waving goodbye to friends as they sail out of view.
I am completely aware of the location of my lost-ness,
Alone in crowds,
Alone in thought,
And alone in the returning gaze of the mirror.
My face looks hauntingly familiar, but I can’t place it.

I am in a soundproof room.
I scream to get out a whimper,
I wrestle thoughts into submission for fear they will run amok,
And I am tired.
I am stuck in the shallow end of conversation for fear of drowning;
Talking about the weather outside,
Avoiding words that convey the storms in my heart,
Adrift at speeds, I cannot judge:
There is endless sea across the horizon.

I am on the verge of a madman’s fit;
Desperate and convinced that anger will stave off depression and fear.
I am starving for joy as though it were air, indeed to me, it is air and my lungs thirst for it.
I’m angry that I have nothing to be angry about,
A defused bomb with the clock still ticking down,
Fighting shadows and phantoms,
And my shoulders hurt from swinging at what isn’t there.

I am in the land of ruthless trust,
gripping tightly the only hand I can feel,
Repeating to myself with desperation what is real.
Trusting what I know and fighting to ignore the whispers that read into every word and every silence,
Every action, reaction, and expression.
I am wrestling a formless being in the dark;
Clinging, I won’t let go, and I will not tap out without a blessing.
Trusting the blessing is mine.
I know the blessing is mine.

I am in the promised land even though it’s dark outside,
I can smell the faint scent of milk and honey,
And I did not get here on my own, the land is littered with memorials and landmarks,
I cannot deny the words I have heard,
Good words haunt me and linger around me.
I am in between the words of God;
Clinging to the last and desperate for the next.

I am right where He wants me.
Hopelessly hopeful,
Inadequately enough,
Sufficiently insufficient.
I am right where He wants me.
His rules are righteous.
Where He has me is all right.
I am alright.

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