Avoiding pain

I've come to notice a pattern in myself that I find rather curious. And slightly concerning. I prefer not to make friends because I'm afraid of saying 'goodbye'. I don't like the awful feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realise that that is it; I may never see you again. And it hurts so much to invest so much into someone and to then be cruelly torn apart.
I prefer the pain of loneliness and separation from people to the pain of goodbyes. I would rather not interact than to have to say 'goodbye'.
Is this really the better option? I fear that I will always walk that path though.

I even anticipate it though. When I sense that a relationship will be short I hold back and don't invest as much as I could. Or even as much as I would like to. Something holds me back. And I find a trail of superficial relationships, that were truly created to fill a moment of time.

I know that people will move on, and I know it will hurt to see them leave and so I keep myself clear of the emotional trauma that will follow.

Is this a safe and boring way to live? How much do I miss out on? I feel like I miss a lot, yet I am not ready to brave it out there. Maybe one day I will.

I have the very best.

It's so easy to feel sorry for yourself and wallow in self pity. It's like a self comforting technique. Especially when you don't feel well or like everything in your life is going wrong. It's so easy to just close up and shut everyone out. You can still wave and smile and seem perfectly normal, yet inside your mind is turmoil and a wreck of untrue, exaggerated and embellished thoughts and emotions that have no validity. And while you know that most of the things you are feeling are invalid, there is a sense of comfort in entertaining them and allowing your mind to wander down endless paths of thought that merely end up giving you more pain, fear and anxiety, despite the fact that the likelihood of said circumstances coming into fruition are highly unlikely.

Even from a young age we allow ourselves to close up and embrace self pity. When we are chastised or don't get what we want. So by the time we are grown-ups, we are very good at going to that secret dark place and allowing scary ideas to wash over us.

Yet, while the smallest thing can send us spiralling into darkness, a seemingly small, and what some may perceive as being an insignificant act, can drag you unflinchingly back into the light. It can chase away the dark thoughts that you had sought to comfort you and remind you that you don't need lies and sadness, but love and friendship.

God sees all our thoughts. And he knows exactly what we need to hear and when the hand of compassion and kindness needs to be extended.Sometimes we need a harsh reminder to remove us from the realm of self-pity. But equally, we sometimes need a gentle push, a loving nudge, someone to take our hand and lead us out through the tangle of sore thoughts that we had no idea were so strongly wrapped around us. Once we are out, we realise just how close we may have been to drowning. And the relief is immense.

Today, I pulled out of my self pity. someone took me by the hand and led me out. Whether she saw I was in emotional pain or not, she led me out, and I am ever so grateful. I love her so much. She means the world to me, and I sometimes wonder where I would be without the special people that God has allowed into my life over the past year. They are truly unique and sweet, and I cannot imagine living without them.

Traversing the world to find....

I have never had many friends growing up. It was just a fact of life for me. And occasionally it would irk me greatly, and I would cry because I was lonely. I wanted to have big, exciting Birthday parties with lots of girls my own age. And I wanted someone to go the the movies with, and have coffee dates with, and go shopping with. And you know how in the movies friends would spend hours on the phone with each other talking about everything and nothing? I wanted to do that too!

My 'friends' tended to hang out with me for a few weeks and then someone newer and more interesting came along, and I was dropped like a hot potato. But to be honest I kinda got used to this. And I didn't really expect anything else from people in general.


When I left England in August, there was only really four people I said 'goodbye' to as close friends. Only those four who made an effort to come and spend time with me before I left.

But, since my first semester at Bible college I have a huge circle of new friends. People who care about me, and love me. Ask me how I am and if they can help me with anything. They travel to come and see me. We go shopping, we go to Starbucks, the cinema, ice skating, everything!!

But I had to wait to meet these people. I had to wait nineteen years, and travel six thousand miles across the Atlantic.

Patience is a virtue.

There are certain people I have met in the last six months who I can't imagine living without now. There was an instant connection with them. I love them greatly, and I know that they love me too. It's not a one sided relationship. I have had so many of those, I had just about given up on friends. I was pretty self-sufficient. But now I have a whole list of people who would all jump at the chance to hang out with me.

I feel loved. I feel happy.

 I hope that if anyone else has experienced this that they won't give up, yet. But keep waiting. Please? 

squandered time

It was a spiteful thing to say; It was intended to injure and cause damage. It was regretted almost as soon as the last syllable came rolling off the tongue. But the regret did not outweigh the anger and rage welled deep within the heart. Those words were said in order to cut and wound. Anger was directed at her.
Any Mother would've been ashamed to hear such words of hate and passion falling so easily and freely from her daughter's mouth. But this girl's Mother was not present to correct her. All the wise words bestowed on this girl by her Mother were lost; silenced by passionate madness and frenzy.

Stupid now; reckless now; how often does the girl berate herself for such a display of teenage angst and ignorance? She lies awake and wonders to herself, "what was my provocation? I cannot recall. What did we quarrel over? It must have been important. I cannot remember. Or maybe I can, perhaps deep down - I know. But it was stupid, so superficial, so pathetic, that I refuse to acknowledge it. I deny."

Sometimes a suppressed memory will float up and engulf her. A joke shared, a sadness endured, a homework assignment flunked together. These paralyse her, making her feel worthless. The scarlet of embarrassment colouring her pale cheeks. Sometimes she overcomes her pride and thumbs uncommitted through the phone book. Wondering, hoping, terrified, ashamed.

Since that time she's made so many mistakes; and deep in her heart she knows, that the one person who would've dissuaded her, she cast aside like a rag doll, beat her down and hurt her.

That memory that hurts the most; the car pulls away. Carrying her off in the back seat, to a new life far, far away. She does not look back, she does not cast her eyes back at her attacker. She sits in injured pride, eyes straight ahead. Never looking back. And the attacker, held fast by her own stubborn pride, refuses to call out, to chase after the car, to beg forgiveness and a phone number.
The girl sneers at her teenage self these days. So proud; she let go of the dearest and sweetest friend, and for what?

Whenever she goes out, and sees young girls together she longs to warn them, to press on them the importance of friendship, and how much the loss of it can ache, like a life long toothache that no pill can remove.
She sits and watches them, as they stroll along, arm in arm, giggling, at ease. Just like they had been, and should have been still.

She allows a memory to sweep over her, like the tide it slowly creeps up the beach that is her consciousness, until she in completely immersed in it - She sits on the park bench, and her dear, sweet friend giggles and calls out to her, and calls out, again and again, like an echo, but not, her voice grows stronger and draws closer, instead of fading out.....The voice is so loud, too loud for a mere memory. But she dares not open her eyes for fear that the memory will fade and leave her flat and in emotional turmoil like before.
That voice so sweet and melodious, loving and kindly. She clings to the memory. She feels a soft hand upon her cheek; and the scent of a lily.

Her hand, her scent.

She slowly opens her eyes, and a face swims into view. Two kind beautiful brown sparkling eyes, the colour of milk chocolate, flecked with warm golden honey comb, now dewed with moisture. That face, wrinkled now and careworn, the gift age bestows on all - but it is her; dear, sweet friend.

She has found me, forgiven me, and sought me out. She searched for me. She missed me like her left foot. And a burden that weighed her shoulders takes flight, never to return. Forgiveness is like honey, sweet, and warm. Speech is impaired, only tears flow. But words are not needed now.

Now standing beneath a blossom tree; a beautiful spot. Natural beauty displayed all around. Spectacular and glorious. She would have liked it. A shadow of a small smile briefly touches her face, and then it disappears.
She reached her journey's end; she came to say goodbye.

She was the better woman; she forgave when the other could not. She embraced the one who cut her down. The victim sought out the attacker and loved her.

She loved me and she came back.

Now, I miss her even more.