Come Away From It

There is something frustratingly powerless and ultimately futile about loving someone who doesn't love themselves, or who loves in a self-destructive and narcissistic way, the way a snake loves the mouse that shares its cage. But each time the best of you wants to believe they will change, that this time is different, that this is the moment the truth is out; that they've finally reached rock bottom. Each time you dutifully take the words and promises like communion. And each time they prove you wrong, they let you down and they leave nothing but destruction in their path. They tornado through the very people who love them. They wring out the very best of your intentions and leave you broken and exhausted, but somehow leave just enough hope for the next time they come around. They are easy to like and impossibly hard to love. They are addicts, manics, pathological liars and sometimes, all three. You don't know whether to hug them and cry or punch them in the face and walk out. Is it possible to do both?

I'm so tired and frustrated and there is nothing I want less than that person anywhere near the people I love, even as I love that person wholeheartedly. I don't want to literally drive into that tornado in a few weeks. Where are the boundaries with a person who has no regard for them? Where do you say, “enough is enough” when life without them is impossible, when there aren't ties that can be cut? How do you love them as Christ loves them and yet not be consumed? This is something I have openly run from and yet here it is again, same person, same situation, different year. Ugh.

Bla Bla Bla

Isn't it funny how different we become based on our circumstance?

When I am settled, when I am provided for, when I am secure in where I am, I am more inclined to be secure in who I am. They all seem intricately connected unfortunately. I don't question my worth the same way, I don't struggle with bouts of doubts or worthlessness. It is much easier to be when being is fairly mundane and straightforward.

It is when I am so dirty in the process of living, when nothing I have (or don't have) is of any mention, when money is stretched so tightly it sings—it is then that the whispers of doubt become shouts. I hate the truth in that statement. Everything about me is called to testify and is found wanton through some court of private scorn and public image. And I hate that is happens over and over again, a lesson I am missing along the way somehow. I seem to only believe my worth when it is empirically obvious.

Sidebar: got a splinter under my fingernail on Saturday. I can't get it out without cutting my fingernail all the way down, and I really like my fingernail. But that shit hurts.

Self-starter

Feeling pretty low about the whole job thing today. Frustrated, stressed, discouraged--you know, the whole gamut. Job options just seem to get smaller and smaller--stuff I want to do less and less. And I'm less and less motivated to look; I want to hide under the covers and cry. I want to believe there is a plan and a purpose to all of this and I do, but today I'm needing a little more than simple assurance. I'm needing an effing job.