Saturday, May 27, 2017

When all there is is hurt

I have this naive idea.

I guess it's more than an idea.

It's a part of my being.

I have this integrated belief that people should have love in their body and soul for each other.

I'm not talking about being best friends with everyone, or romantic love.

I'm talking about an overall general regard for other human beings.

So, I have a really hard time when people treat others as disposable.

I always tell my kids that everybody has something to offer.

Nobody is worthless.

Nobody should be tossed away.

My whole life I have struggled to fit in anywhere.

I used to think it was because I was shy (horribly so for a long time).

I used to think it was because I was ugly (still have those days).

I used to think it was because I wasn't "cool."

But I still held on to the belief that people are supposed to love each other. I began to believe that while *I* wasn't, and never would be, good enough to be in the cool groups (or any group for that matter), at least they didn't torture me. So, despite the fact that I wasn't included (because that made sense), it always blew my mind why these cool people were so mean to everybody else.

I remember being at a youth gathering. I was standing in the foyer (probably terrified of being noticed), and I looked over at three girls. Two of them were "cool," and one was being informed that she was not as they mocked her for her clothes.

I couldn't wrap my mind around anyone being that callous. Why were they doing this??

How could anyone look at another person and just begin tearing them apart?

Why would anyone do that?

Fast forward many years, and I found myself in that girl's position.

Only it wasn't my clothes.

And these people were supposed to be my friends.

It was who I was as a person.

I wasn't good enough as a person.

Everything I did was wrong.

I was wrong to feel the way I did.

I was wrong for doing what I did.

I was just wrong.

Messed up. Broken. Flawed. Ugly as a person.

I didn't understand it at all. If I was so awful, why did they want to be my friends?

I stopped making friends after that.

But that hope still burned in my heart that people weren't really like that. It wasn't really how things were. It wasn't how people were. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

So, we moved to a new place, and I looked timidly, yet hopefully, around me. Hoping once again that maybe that place of love and acceptance was there.

It wasn't.

I wasn't wrong any more.

I was nothing.

I was invalid.

Useless.

I was nothinged for years.

I kept doing what I knew to be right. I kept loving people. I kept hoping and praying and wishing that these people would stop "nothing" me and the other invalids.

They didn't .

So, I was alone with God.

And I told myself every time I sat by myself in a room packed full of people.

I would like to say that I immediately felt better. That my aching soul was comforted.

It wasn't.

It stung bitterly.

But slowly, my relationship with God became my anchor.

And while I knew I disappointed Him (because I wasn't and never would be good enough for anybody), and while I was pretty sure that for all my good intentions and efforts I would never be able to live with Him like I desperately wanted to, I knew He was there. He always listened. He always sat with me.

Because He was full of that love that I longed to see in those around me.

It must be there. It must be. It must be in them.

It had to be.

Aren't we made up of the Divine?

Aren't we His children?

Then that love must be in us.

It must be!

I retreated into myself and stayed there. Safe. I wouldn't hurt me. I knew who I was, and couldn't do that.

As time went by, I tried reaching out, but in a very guarded way. If I kept people an arm's length from my heart, I wouldn't be hurt when my hand was slapped away. Anonymity became my watchword.

And there I felt comfort. I could still love people, but there were no strings or roots.

Again we moved.

And I felt free! Like I had this great opportunity to try again, and to find that spark of divine in the people around me. I knew it was there. It had to be there.

I slowly came out into the sun.

It was excruciating.

Terrifying.

And I tried again.

And I failed again.

I remember someone once saying that if one student failed in a class, it was the student's fault. If the entire class failed, it was the teacher's fault.

So, in light of this, I can only assume that there is something fundamentally wrong with who I am.

I apparently don't know how to people right.

Who I am is so wrong.

Once again, I am alone with God.











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