Is that even ok?

This past weekend was awkward.

I know I certainly played a big part in that, but at the same time I know that it wasn't just me. It has been a while since things were awkward, so it was bound to happen anyway.

What I can't get over is how much it messed with me. My appetite was shot, I could hardly sleep, and it felt like Mothra had invited all his giant winged friends over to my stomach for a weekend-long party. I hadn't really been able to sleep all week, so I can't say for sure that insomnia was related to friendship tensions.

Is that even ok? In some sense, I know that strained relationships are bound to take some kind of toll- especially close relationships that are important to me. But on the other hand, it seems somehow unbiblical to be so affected by a friend. Does it mean I'm not trusting Jesus?

Something else that has been bugging me is how utterly afraid I was. I was paralyzed by fear in the moment, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to ask for simple needs. Then after the fact, I wanted so badly to talk about it, yet the thought made me want to hurl. Where did that come from?!? For at least the first year and a half (maybe more) of this particular friendship, I felt like I was walking a fine line. I thought that at my next offense or mistake, that would be the end. I was shocked everytime I was forgiven for anything. Obviously, I was dealing with issues of trust, and I am unhappy to see the extent that I still am. It's like I haven't grown at all, and that is disheartening.

Why is it so hard for me to believe, and I mean really believe deep deep down in the recesses of my being, that I am loved? Why is it harder with some people than others? How come I feel unworthy of friendship? Why do I tell myself that new people are too cool to want to associate with me?

We've talked about it, and we're good now. It's just in that teetery phase of "now that the pink elephant has been addressed, what do we talk about now?" After we had talked, I cried on my way to class. Not a whole lot, but a couple tears down my cheeks. I was about to start crying during class, but fortunately I got my eyes to stop at welling up. It was the weirdest thing. I wanted to cry all weekend, but I couldn't. It felt good, but I was caught off-guard and very confused by it. It should have come before or maybe during the talk. By the time I was in my truck, I was certain it wouldn't happen, but the crazy flood of emotion that had been festering for days finally broke out. I had unintentionally been the kind of person I had not wanted to be, driven by fear and doubt to behave foolishly. The thought crossed my mind that I should have apologized a little more profusely. However, I was also more than happy that the fear of what was coming had finally blown over. Guilt and relief made for a strange mix, like when you try snocone flavors that don't really go together but there's something interesting about the combination that makes you finish the whole thing.

I just don't know what to make of it all.

Knotted

I have this terrible aching/knotted feeling in my stomach. It makes me feel like I'm really nervous... or is it the other way around? It's been around for the last couple of days. I don't know what to do.

Maybe I'm feeling like this because I'm worried about Dad and hope his doctors can finally figure out some answers. Or maybe I'm thinking too much about how I don't really know what I'm going to do this summer. Then again, it could be nerves about the stupid term paper for the class I can't stand. It could be that I can't get along with my mother no matter how hard I try. Maybe.

Or all of them to varying degrees.

It is a horrifying reality that whatever God chooses, despite anything I may want or beg Him for, is right and good and perfect. It brings the strangest mixture of emotions. There's peace in some sense because I know He has a plan. At the same time, there's a lot of fear because I also know that the aforementioned plan is oftentimes painfully different than the plans I suggest to the Lord.

I want to trust Him. I try to trust Him. I pray. I cry. I tell myself He's good. I can't help but wonder: Will I still be telling myself that if my dad never gets better?

I like to think I will, but that's just one of those cosmic questions. Whether or not I stand in God's goodness does not change the fact that God IS good. It makes me feel small to say it (which may not be such a bad thing), but who am I to be nervous about the life situation God has me in? It is all His anyway, right? My dad's health, the relationship I have with my mom, my education, not to mention the entire universe are all held in His hand. What He chooses to give and take is solely up to Him. It is only by His great goodness that He gives anything at all.

The feeling is still there. I can't say for sure that it is a bad thing. I certainly don't like it, but it keeps reminding me to pray and trust. It is a give and take world.