Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Angry lady realizes her insignifigance

So, I'm totally uncomfortable with anger. I didn't deal with much of it growing up. My dad has a temper, but it flares up rarely, blows over quickly, and is always followed by sincere apologies. My mom is pretty private, so if she is angry, we probably wouldn't know.

Here I am, 33 years old, and I'm full of crazy, unpredictable anger. I don't think that most of my friends would describe me as an angry person. People often say that I'm happy and bubbly and friendly. This is often true. I'm diagnosed bipolar, and I love people: This means that only my most loyal, persistent friends will ever truly witness me being sad or livid. People make me happy, so most humans come in contact with me while I am in public situations, and I'm excited not to be alone, THEREFORE I am perceived as "Happy." Does that make sense?
So, if I'm alone for too long, or if I get hurt, and I don't deal with that hurt appropriately, I get sad, and sometimes ANGRY. Guess who gets the brunt of it?.... my husband, Cory.

I blew up at him tonight. I told him that it doesn't matter how hard he tries to make me happy, it's impossible. He's totally human, and so am I. This means that I expect him to get every thing right all the time. I want him to make me feel better when I'm sad. I want him to find me fascinating every moment of the day, I want him to be willing to drop everything for me.

I've tried hard to change. I've begged God to make me more content. I want to just relax and be thankful for what I have. I want to take personal responsibility for my illness, my actions, my REactions. I keep finding that I just can't get it right. Or, rather, I can't get it right all the time.

There is this person inside me who wants to shed my fallible skin and come out on the other side perfectly whole and selfless. That longing seems to shadow every pure moment of success in my life. There are good days. I have had selfless, loving impulses that I've followed through. Sometimes I can manage to listen to the needs of a friend and get completely outside of my own head.. Some days I can affirm Cory for all the things he's so good at. Some moments I can just revel in the beauty and innocence of Lorelai.

But the instant that dissatisfaction enters my brain I feel overwhelmed with my own uselessness.
Cory's been telling me about a video he watched where Louie Giglio was talking about how incredibly insignificant we are in the light of the enormity of God and the Universe we live in. Louie explains how if the earth were represented by a golf ball, then the universe would be the size of a Stadium that could hold tens of thousands of golf balls. Even on earth I'm a nobody, I have less than 700 internet friends, and we all know how few of those people even think about us once a day. So that leaves several billion people on earth who have never heard of Laura Whidden, and have no interest in my life. And about 3 billion-ish planets inhabited or uninhabited with beings who could care less.

So why does my life seems so enormously important to ME??? I can hardly stop thinking about myself for an hour in a row. Even people like Brittany Spears who are household names, are only significant on a teeny, tiny, golfball sized planet. The rest of the Universe keeps spinning weather she shaves her head or not. And yet, I, virtually unnoticed here on the blue planet, continue to believe that it matters that i have insomnia and feel lost and lonely tonight.

I've come face to face with the mystery that God claims to know how many hairs are on my head (I've pulled out a few while writing this, so he'd have to be retaining some pretty accurate records to be telling the truth) and He still wants me to be aware that I'm like a weed that's alive one day and thrown into the fire the next.

So, God, what's the truth? Am I so important that you would die for me, or am I just fodder for a brush fire?
Somehow, both have to be true.
My tiny, distracted, ill grey-matter cannot make sense of this dichotomy. Either I don't matter or I do, which is it???

And God answers enigmatically, "yes."

God, give me peace, help me to trust that I don't have to be perfect to matter to You. Help me to understand that you are here now watching me type, caring about me, but that the world would barely hiccup if I fell off of it's face tomorrow. Help me to be okay with the truth that you are Eternal, the Alpha and the Omega, and I'm just an ephemeral breath, dust in the wind. Help me believe that I matter to YOU, and that that.... is enough.

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