spilling guts

i'm not editing this (not like i ever "edit" this writing) but i'm not even mentally pre-forming my words.

sometimes i'm really sneaky at lying to myself. i don't like feelings so i'm not always in touch with my own. a silly thing for an introvert to say. sure i can over-think & psycho-analyze toooo death. _but_ it doesn't follow that i analyze my emotions. what i think is far more important, right? ;)

when real things are happening i tend to shove it down. don't think don't go there don't feel.

so i'm gonna spill my guts & maybe get a handle on what's really going on this lil person. i need honesty with myself and the Lord.

i want so much to be brave & beautiful (on a deep character level). right now it doesn't look like i'll get there. that takes faith in Jesus, since both spring from vital, unshakable hope. i don't have hope right now. some days God fills me with it. but then i wonder later if it wasn't just hormones or feelings when i'm back to lifelessness. what if i never reach a point where my joy isn't based on circumstances, shallowness, comfort?

and i'm not talking brave & beautiful in usual terms. not "brave" in that i do fantastic heroic feats. the quiet brave, the kind of inner strength that endures and bears up under discomfort without complaint. bravery that nobody else knows is there. the kind of person who can be shattered inside without shattering totally outside. who still has strength to care for others & not turn self-obsessed inwards or let inner hurt block out the world.
well. this child ain't there yet.
i know honesty & weakness are good things. but i think its a fine line to just being weak in a whiny i-don't-want-to-try-anymore way. i'm not saying i'm there, i don't know. but i know i'm too close to giving up to have a healthy weakness. mine is lazy...

beautiful. not the kind of aesthetic beauty that makes heads turn (although lets be honest, if gorgeous just happened to me i wouldn't complain) but what i want more than that is bright beauty. blech, i don't know what to call it...
i want to bring beauty with me, call attention to the sparkle & color God has infused this broken world with. so much of it lies hidden in the small joys we take for granted. i don't want to *be* the beautiful one; i want to make it & give it & share it.
i'm not saying i want to be the one people look at and see "oh she's beautiful" or even "oh she really appreciates beauty". i want to be the person who genuinely makes other people see beauty. i want to be the kind of woman that when i leave, those left see more light & beauty & Jesus & hope around them. i mean i can't really bring or create beauty; i can only reflect God's, & the sparkle He has put in me. i don't want attention. sure it can be a temptation, but really i'm rather awkward with that & its not satisfying. but i want to be a the one to open eyes to what is already there.

problem: these days i am all complaining negative mess. but i suppose when you're watching a loved one die, it's not a good time to assess your hope/faith radar.

or isn't it?
isn't it supposed to be when things are darkest that true courage, true light, true hope emerge? isn't this the scenario when those most rooted & secure in God shine brightest?

i am not well rooted. because i am not shining. some days i fight. but some days i just crawl back into bed and ache for God to stop the human heart inside me. i'm not even really feeling the pain yet! but i know it's coming and i am so afraid. i don't want to go down this damn stupid grieving road again.

one thing i do see, one way God's hand MUST be upon me? i stubbornly refuse to suit up and prepare for the pain that's coming. i will not mourn while nana lives. i will enjoy all the precious moments i have left with her. i will treasure them & value them more than the 4.0 GPA i'm losing. i will not taint them with any future apprehension. life lesson learned the hard way: you can't prepare for the actual renting of ones heart. all that does is rob you of the present.

well that was disgusting...it's surprisingly hard to write without a filter. guess i'm supposed to feel free-er now? i'm not as hopeless as i sound. or maybe i don't want to admit or confess it. maybe i'm not, because wouldn't that hurt intensely like the year-of-hell-2012? this might all be a bunch of crap stemming from no sleep, impossible deadlines & so much coffee my body is revved strangely in spite of mental fatigue.
on to homework.
i'm a little ashamed of this post. but i need to be honest & open about my most shameful places or how else will the light come in and restore them?

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