Reminding Me

It's at times like this that the emotion runs coursing through my body and even music can't calm me down. When the urge to express my feelings reaches out to the solace found in black words on a white page typed by my hands.

When that moment comes when your brain is fighting every fibre of your body because something needs to change and it. just. can't. And your voice has obeyed you before, when no one's been watching. But now, when it counts, it won't happen. It's as if your mind has a keyhole and the key that you're trying is the wrong one.

And you can't make your voice follow the instructions as much as you long for it to. Yet you're stubborn enough to hide the tears starting to well up in your eyes and explain away the catch in your voice and that acidic sting in your nose.

Is it a battle for humility versus pride? Is there something that I'm missing? Do I just need bare everything, or can I find that key, or... what?

And she comforts and speaks words of love over me and yet I can't accept them because I feel as if I failed.

And it hits me that I've failed to be that strong tower, to be impregnable, and I don't. want. to. let. that. wall. down.

And as it hits me I realized that I've realized something fundamental.

I didn't tell her what was going on inside my head the entire time.

I'm too independent for my own good. Too focused on how others see me. Too analytical. Too much of an Eeyore.

And I exited the building, with the crunching of leaves beneath my feet, and I stand still, gasping as I cry the only way that I do... silently and for a few seconds, without any tears escaping. And then I carry on walking, wiping away the wetness that did trickle down and just wanting to be alone.

Even as I write that, I find it slightly ironic that my version of "alone-ness" means being cradled in the understanding that simple, stark words on a page give me.

And I found myself asking why I ever did this. Put myself in a position to go through this.

Then, He comes knocking. And, oh, how I want to push Him aside. How I want to continue to be the center of my pity-party.

But He won't let me be.

"Have I not given you this opportunity to develop the gift that I have given you? Have I not placed you in this very place to be stretched and broken because of the lessons that I have to teach you about humbleness? Do I not do what is good?"

And it leaves me feeling very Eeyore-ish, but glad that my life is held in the hands of One who knows what He's doing.