Haaaah…you know it’s the end of the day when you attempt to link up to Beautiful People by typing in ‘Beautiful People’ instead of ‘Paper Fury’….
Sadly it cannot be the end of the day as there is writing to be done. Cooking to be done. Eating, of course. And editing (for a friend). You know you are an adult when Friday=no chill, all work.
AND WHO INVENTED SPRING FORWARD????!
I get it, but it really just hurts my feelings in the worst way. STAHP.
Have you ever felt like you just…didn’t belong?
I’ve always felt this way–at times moreso than others–but I’m surprised to find myself still feeling a sense of loss and uncertainty because of it when I’m so close to being, as my youth group has
somewhat fondly said, ‘over the hill’…aka 30. FYI, 30 actually isn’t over the hill?? But ok, guys. Not that it matters; I apparently still look like I’m 12.
Scenarios: You find a group to click in, even if it only has a couple people. BAM. Belonging. (Ish). You realize you didn’t want to be like them/others [insert peoples] anyway. You decide to try, and it actually works. Most of the time. Orrrr…none of the above. (That’s cool. -_-)
I guess I thought that when I became an adult, those feelings of other-ness would at least dissipate a little…but as it turns out, they’ve only become stronger. (Isn’t that encouraging??! #facepalm) Yeah, I have friends that I would give my life for, and I have a deep sense of kinship with, but to completely be myself around others is, perhaps, just not obtainable.
This captures my sentiments nicely:
And I know, we can’t just rampage and slap others in the face with our feelings…*whispers loudly* OR CAN WE???! (Fishslappers, anyone? No?)
But at 27, I figured I’d be on the end game of determining the balance between honesty and being true to myself and my feelings while also valuing others enough to grant them sensitivity and employ due reservation.
To me, it’s not the fitting in or lack of fitting in that bothers me. It’s the fact that I seemingly can’t be myself and preserve others via reservation. If I’m sad, I’m bereft. If I’m happy, I’m over the moon. On the inside. Because, instead of simply being a passionate person with *gasp* a greater emotional range than a teaspoon, I’m obviously a nutcase.
Or, my favorite, “not myself.”
CUE GIGANTIC INTERNAL EYEROLL. (Not sure how that’s gonna work out…but cue it anyway.)
And I got to thinking, man…I seriously cannot be the only one in the universe that feels this way. Also, more importantly and to the point: I realized all over again that one of the most sacred, cherished, and wonderful parts about knowing Jesus is that I don’t have to pretend to be someone else or hide my feelings. He already knows me. Nothing is hidden from Him.
While it does sadden me to think I’ll never be able to truly be myself around anyone but God, I’m also greatly encouraged. I am known. I am loved. For who I am.