another year

Whelp, I'm twenty-two today. Age is such a funny thing. I feel like I should be around 30 by now. I don't feel like a young-twenty. But alas, here I am, a mere 22 years old. I'm done with school now. Grades have been received (I love grades) and notebooks have been put away for a while. I'm a little bit nervous about student teaching, but I have been trying to give my brain a little break and not think about teaching quite yet. Trying to just enjoy my holidays.

I haven't been writing very much lately. Haven't written in my journal hardly at all these past two years. I'm not sure why. Something changed inside my heart, and I suddenly wasn't able to bear seeing my thoughts on paper. For some reason writing on this blog is okay, but even now, with many days of experiences that I could write about, I feel stunted- like I have nothing to offer.

Yesterday at church I was pretty convicted about how I have been living my life. So purposeless, using busyness as an excuse for laziness. Bryan was pretty relentless. He said "If you are living according to the culture and rushing around to the point that you don't have time for eternal things that matter, stop it." I loved that. Just stop it. But it feels easier said than done. I don't feel like I have the energy or the time to invest in new friendships, new relationships. I feel guarded, not able to share myself freely with others. And worse than that, I feel like if I were to actually engage with someone in a spiritual conversation, I would be stumped. I don't know what to think of my relationship with God. I try not to, but it's hard to not feel disillusioned concerning the bipolar aspect of the last 10 years of my life (or longer).

I look back at times when I was super inspired and motivated to do great things, and I feel so embarrassed. People must have thought I was crazy at best. Little did they know they were right. The great thing about bipolar highs is that you feel invincible, unstoppable, energized. The bad part is what goes up must come down. And when I do come down to reality, I realize that much of what I thought I was capable of, what I was convinced I was capable of, was really just a joke.

I don't know what to expect from life anymore. I used to have thoughts of missions, thoughts of writing, thoughts of maybe even working in ministry somewhere. Now, I feel crippled, uncertain, and a little bit jaded toward the whole idea of Jeremiah 29:11- I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.

I know theoretically that this must be true if God said it. It probably does reflect his heart for all of his people, though it was written for the Israelites. But I just don't believe it. That's the honest truth. I know I should believe, but I know that I don't. A belief affects the way you live, and my life does not reflect the belief that God has something fulfilling and worthwhile for me in the future.

Anyways, this turned out a lot whinier than I was expecting. Sorry to my three readers for that. This is why I don't write anymore. Because when I write, I expose what's really there. And what's really there just doesn't seem very pleasant these days.