I’m in a weird little place this morning and so I’m choosing to write it out. Forgive me and bear with me. It’s one of THOSE posts.
I attended a get-together yesterday with two women from our church that I don’t know very well. It was something orchestrated out of our women’s ministry designed to help strengthen bonds and allow us to get to know one another more deeply, both spiritually and personally. I was excited, but as always when it comes to women’s ministries, a bit skittish. Women’s ministry has always been a hard pill for me to swallow- not that I’ve attended much. I continually struggle with roles of women in the Church and the gatherings I’ve been to feel more warm and fuzzy than motivating and uplifting. However, our last meeting left me with a feeling of hope and I was excited for this opportunity. I’ve started to learn more about the women in our church and they amaze me. But somehow yesterday’s meeting feels like it’s started another spiral.
You see, the truth is our church leaves me feeling a bit like the odd duck out, the kid perpetually stuck in the role of the gray duck running and running around the circle, never able to fit in. I possess a questioning faith, a need to understand the ways of God (to the best of human ability), a constant yearning to know more. I think it may be perceived by some to be a heart lacking in faith and maybe it is. Maybe my faith is just not strong enough, though it doesn’t feel that way. It just feels…different. I feel incapable of possessing simple, blind faith. “Just because” is never enough for me. This is not the people of my church- at least not as far as I have seen so far. Many grew up in Christian households or have been Christians for so long that there aren’t any questions- that or not that one is willing to discuss. But it doesn’t end there. I feel like the only woman not satisfied with just being a mother. Like the only one with a desire for more than raising kids and being a good wife. I wish that I had this sort of capacity for loving. There seems to be a simplicity in it I’m too complicated to master. I feel like the woman with a wrong heart.
I don’t want it to come across as though anyone has said anything to me that was unloving or unkind. That is definitely NOT the case. Anything that is ever done in or outside of our church is always done with love. It’s just me and my perception. And the truth is, the part that has me most sad today, is that I feel this way in nearly every aspect of my life. I feel this way around other women all the time. I feel like an outsider. I feel different, like I just don’t belong. I have a handful of people in the world that I feel at home around, and boy do I love every single one of you for that! But you aren’t my every day. You’re my “sometimes life allows us enough time to find each other for a few hours now and again to bring me back some hope” people. My “if only we could hang out more” people. My “if only more people were like you” people. You are the people that allow me to be myself. To feel okay with not always liking my kids. To feel okay with wanting more.
I guess today I just feel alone. I feel like everyone around me is okay with just being on the surface of everything and I’m the only one who needs more. That this longing for more is somehow wrong. That wanting a deeper faith, a deeper friendship, a deeper understanding of YOU and your dreams and hopes and struggles is somehow weird and wrong. That it’s wrong to be so open, to hate editing my life and heart in an effort to make things comfortable. That others don’t need to edit because their heart is more full of joy. I need for it to be okay to talk about struggles and it be more than a bitch session or an ungrateful heart, but instead a way to connect. I want connections- real ones. Ones that let me know that you feel this way too and that it’s okay and it’s normal and it’s human. That you are somehow more than just the weather, or what you are doing this weekend, or the cute things your kids do. That you are a cumulation of hopes and dreams and questions and honest, sometimes painful answers.
I’m writing this because… I don’t know. Because I hope that you feel this way too and maybe I’m not so different after all. Because I hope that writing it down will make me feel better somehow. Because I hope it’s just the change in seasons aggravating my anxiety disorder and it will simply pass ‘cuz I haven’t felt this lonely in awhile. Because I hope that it will remind me that God made me this way for a reason and that feeling so deeply sometimes might just be more of a blessing than it is a curse. I don’t know. Thanks for listening.