I’m lost. And I’m trusting God to ultimately find me.
I’m a very analytical person. I passionately crave order. Where most people are fine letting things be I have to have answers. It all has to fit together somehow. Make sense. And yet that leaves me searching endlessly. And I don’t mind that to a point.
Other prayer writing, rewriting and editing bring me some satisfaction and peace of mind. I’m very blessed to be able to write. It’s a mercy.
Still, I get lost until I get found. And I trust God to do that…endlessly. Mercifully.
But where does that go? It’s infuriating. And I feel overwhelmed. I love adventure but…when it ceases to make sense I feel anxious. Oh so very anxious. And you’d never know it. But I do…
We drove past the old Uptown Theater today. In 2010 while I was heartbroken dating my ex-husband I went out with friends. My friends were wild…
“Have fun dating your fraternity brothers who will never love you!” one of my friends screamed at a sorority we walked by on the campus of the U of M. I had almost been a sorority sister. My ex was in a frat. It affected me, although I hid it.
That evening I drank a copious amount of vodka. And I held it well. As per usual.
“That’s my girl!” said one of my friends. She was genuinely impressed.
Then we all went out to another friend’s house. A talented gay friend gave me a make-over. I looked sexy. Smoky-eyed perfection. The other friends were artists. It hung on the walls.
I heard some woman had had an abortion. I told her bluntly and totally ironically, “God still loves you!” She forgave me because I was drunk, she said. But that was an excuse. I really thought she needed to hear it.
Then someone decided to go buy cocaine. I sat in the backseat and then we pulled up and a handsome man in glasses…holding a paper bag…in front of the Uptown Theater smiled and gave my friend the bag. He didn’t look like a drug dealer. He looked well off. Nerdy. Well-bred even. Scared maybe. But not that scared.
Then we pulled into an alley and my friends did drugs. And I sat there praying not to die when the car started moving. And no, I did nothing but sit there. As they expected.
Then they dropped me off at my ex-husband’s. They were worried about me. They didn’t think he was a good influence on me. My friend was bisexual and I refused to “try it” because I knew better and knew I didn’t want it and I cared about her. It made absolutely no sense and seemed awful. Instead we talked about ghosts. And I warned her accidentally about a car accident in her future she was actually eventually in where she almost died but didn’t. She later said she felt less anxious talking to me… And later she’d tell me that I was pregnant before I knew it… “We’re like sisters!” she said. And that was the last time I heard from her.
“Do what you have to do!” they told me as I got out of the car in downtown Minneapolis at my ex-husband’s. Then they drove off to go dancing.
I was fine. I fell asleep a virgin. Safe. My ex-husband watching over me.
I avoid stupid risks when I’m trying to survive. And I’ve always respected God too much not to try to survive. At least since I can honestly remember.
The thing is…not everyone is like that. Not everyone analyzes and over-analyzes everyone and everything for fun. Not everyone looks for lies like they search for the perfect fragrance. Like they edit.
And I hate it. I hate all of it. It’s chaos. Maddening, gross, grisly, heartbreaking chaos. And I can’t embrace the Devil. Sorry.
So..I’ll just edit. And be lost. Until later…I guess. *eye-roll*