somewhere along the road, journaling became an unsafe place...

a place that didn't just hold the ramblings of my soul. but a place that enabled me to sort my thoughts out, sometimes into compartments, sometimes floating about like balloons. And when those thoughts become too much, all I have is a written record of my fears, my doubts, my frustrations.

the anti-dwelling place.

Since I was 13, my journaling was therapy to me. Over the break, I found my middle school journals. Full of "he smiled at me" and "we locked gazes" and "oh my gosh I'm so in love". Banter that almost qualifies those journals for the trash. But I didn't think much deeper. The pattern of overanalyzation in my life can be traced back to even my 13 year old mind and is evident in my writing, but it was just boy stuff, ya know?

Even into my 14 year old journal there is alot of this, but I could begin to see more developed thoughts. More than 5 lines about my current crush.

I need a place that will just hear me. That will let me rant and not judge. That will hold my tears and not question my emotional stability. That will let me talk and talk and secretly not think that I did inherit my family genes as one that can talk too much. These days, I don't feel the freedom to voice those things aloud.

They are MY thoughts. MY feelings. I want to share them, though, sometimes.

But I don't.

I try to resist the inner construction worker that is trying to replace my God's rebuilding up of soft clay with bricks. Bricks that create a wall. A wall that doesn't let people in. That disables me from doing something I love and this is sharing parts of who I am with people who I want to share that with.

I have learned to stop writing when I feel it is becoming a place that just lets me whine. Because while it can equally be a blessing to have a place to talk and not be talked back to, it can equally be a curse because it doesn't speak truth over the untruth I may be wading through.

All this sounds like I am who I was last semester. I'm not, friends. The Lord is doing some good things. He is Faithful. To that I cling to.

But right now. In this moment, I feel I've lost a friend I can't confide in because I don't want to write right now. I feel I've lost some of that freedom too.

Writing in my journal is one of my favorite things in the whole world. I pray this season is short.

My spirit is still too broken to dance and now my fingers too cripple to write.

God, please give me endurance through the brokenness. I thought we were on to the rebuilding.

A Few closing thoughts:

-i am more like my mom than i realized.

-this last week at home made it hard to leave. going back to grownup mode was ok.

-i feel a wonderful comfort knowing my girls are on the other side of my walls.

-i didn't get to be outside as much as I wanted to be last week and I plan on making up that outside time in days to come.

-i have 2 papers due tomorrow. don't ask me if I've started.

-if my God has taught me anything, it is that every moment in life builds upon itself for the next. i don't know what all this is preparing me for, but its something.