It runs in my family. That’s the only excuse I can give you. . . but lately I feel like I’ve been living in a state of denial. I’ve been looking around me and loving everything about my life, and now I feel like I it is all slipping away, and to avoid that, well, I’m avoiding things that I should be doing.
Like packing. Even now, I’m sitting here looking at this giant back pack, wondering how I’m going to put my life in there for a year. So I just let it sit there, and I write a blog when I should be checking if I can fit another t-shirt in there.
I’ve been crying a lot more, recently. I’d like to be able to blame it on hormones, but I don’t think that’s the case at the moment. I think I am genuinely sad that I’ll be leaving.
I was so ready to pick up and leave a year ago. I was so done with this “place” (this place being, life in West Palm, the apparent lack of “real” friends, the feeling that I wasn’t doing anything worthwhile for the Kingdom of God). . . already this stupid World Race has changed me, challenged me, and I both love it and hate it. I never imagined myself like this, healthier, whole. Loved. I never imagined I could be loved.
I love how much I love God, how I’ve learned to love others. But now I hate having to leave this comfort. I hate hearing my roommates talk about who is going to fill my room when I’m gone. It makes me feel like I’m so easily replaceable, and I hate that. I know it is all in my head, but since I’ve always dealt with rejection and abandonment, I secretly wonder if I’ll be forgotten as soon as I step on that plane to Ireland. I know, you’re saying, “That’s stupid Kirsten. We’ll never forget you.” But try telling that to someone who has been purposefully been forgotten before, and see how much comfort that really brings. Words have been so empty my entire life, it’s a wonder why I crave them so much.
The epitome of my co-dependency is rearing its ugly head, as my flesh is screaming at me to somehow stay. It’s even scarier how easy it has become to ignore the foolish attempts of my flesh to do MY will rather than God’s. I know what is right. I know what He wants me to do, and there is no way that Satan or my flesh will get the best of my spirit, which is that of Christ. God continues to teach me things about myself, things I don’t want to know, or things I never thought I’d understand. Every day is a step in the right direction, that being walking toward Him. And yet I am so torn.
I don’t want to go, but I can’t stay here. I don’t want things to change, but I know they can’t stay the same.
Thinking about this, all of this. . . I am reminded about what I went through to get here. It was such a struggle to climb this hill, and now that I near the top, I am beginning to realize it was a cliff I was headed toward, and now I’m on the edge. . .
. . .losing my balance. I’m about to plunge into the life God has called me to. I know I’ve used this analogy before, but it is just so fitting.
Sorry if this seems so random. . . these are just the thoughts I’ve been dealing with. Please, please pray for me. I’m scared of leaving. But I know I have to. I have to leave myself behind, and find out who God has made me to be. I just don’t want to change so much that people won’t recognize me when I come back.
I guess I should start packing again.
