Breaking Down

So, I have a story okay? I'm sure some of you have heard it, but it bears recording, and also a close resemblance to my last post (the one about expectations). I was driving home from my grandparents' home this past Friday morning. While driving on a particularly long stretch of highway, my radio loses clears signal from all the local Christian radio stations. In fact, at this point in the journey, I have two options to listen to: talk radio or country. This particular day I was not interested in country and I've never been overly fond of talk radio. So, I made a decision, one that for me was quite odd at first.

I turned off the radio. Then, I tried to imagine that God was in the car with me, sitting right next to me, and we talked. It sounds weird, but it actually got rather comfortable. The reason that I wanted to sit down and talk with God had a lot to do with my plans for the future. I've been tossing around ideas about what I would like to do after graduation, which include things absolutely detested by my family. Specifically, I have been contemplating the idea of attempting to join the police force. My mother is against this because it is obviously dangerous, and I have yet to explain this to my grandparents, because the pay is barely over that of a beginning teacher. So, I determined that the person that I should really be talk to is not my mom, or my grandma, but my Father. We talked about earthly authorities, Paul's imprisonment, and worldly aspirations. It was indeed a most interesting conversation, in which I learned that I had no control over my own life.

Not that God had complete control of my life, but that I had freely given the reins to my family, whose intentions were good, but whose methods have caused me to lose my own identity in life. Now, I know that this sounds like an awfully big claim, but do realize that this is no exaggeration. God told me that I need to depend on Him for peace and rest, because I do continually run myself ragged. The past few weeks have been especially rough, and I have had little rest, little real rest. Because of all this running and so little soul rest, I found myself on the verge of a true breakdown just a few short hours later, on my way to work.

I felt the pang of knowledge that something in my life was most horribly wrong, yet I could not tell what is was nor how to solve it. I felt utterly powerless, and without time or place to turn to. Also, the need to dry my eyes before entering into my place of employment was eminent. So, as expertly as ever, I quickly and quietly stowed away my emotions and pain and went on in the world as if nothing we wrong.

The following day, I again found myself on the edge overlooking the cliffs losing everything that is myself and yet not myself. I was driving home from work, and off course, purposing passing my church. I needed a home, a sanctuary, a place that I knew I was wrapped in the arms of love. As a slap in the face, all eight doors into the church was locked from the inside. I sat in my Father's garden and wept at being a wounded prodigal denied peace. Somehow, though, in my tears it was made known to me that while I was suffering, there will eventually be peace, though I know not when.

Expectations

Expectations. We all have them. We place them on ourselves and others, and others place them on us. It was during my first year of college that I realized that my entire life up to that point had been governed by others' expectations of me. For example, even though I was told from a young age "you can have whatever job you want when you grow up," what I was really being told was: "you can have any job you want as long as you make six figures a year, have a college degree, and don't have children." It's a far cry from the encouraging bullshit we all get fed as youngsters. I am just personally amazed that I fell for it for so long, mostly because I have always been told that I am quite intelligent and insightful; gullible was absent from the list.

Of course people who manipulate others' lives, even unintentionally, never want to let the victim know that they are being manipulated; because once the oppressed knows of the oppression, the oppressor loses their power. It is truly amazing how ingrained this simple oppressive force is in our everyday lives. The worse for utilizing this dominating force is elders in one's family. They always say that they have the best of intentions in mind, and often, yes, they do. However, the dialogue between human and human is instantly altered once it occurs between younger and older blood. The older wants to look out for and help the younger, while the younger just wants to learn life's lessons on their own. Truth be told, they won't retain many lessons until they learn them themselves anyway. Sad, isn't it? Anyway, time for a personal application.

As I stated earlier, up until now I have allowed my life to be run by others' expectations of me. I never realized that the primary reason I scored well in school was because I was told to; I got a job because I was told to; I acted like "the good girl" because I was told to; I even applied for college because I was told to. And most recently, I have "visited" members of my family more often this summer than an prior, because I have been told to. Truth be told, I'm sick of being told what to do with my life, especially by people who aren't living it! I mean, really! A stranger cannot tell one what to do, an acquaintance cannot tell one what do, and no more right does a family member have to tell one what to do. I am tired. I am tired of trying to please people who cannot be pleased. I am tired of trying to live up to expectation that I cannot met. I am tired.

My mind is weary. My spirit hangs by a thread. I am officially warn out, and I don't want to go on like this any more. I can't keep living a life that's not mine, defending a person who I don't know. It's no wonder why I have identity issues. I don't know who I am. How many lives am I forced to try to live out? With so many people I am obligated to try to be, which one is the real me? I don't even know who I am, what I want. And now I am just beginning to find the real me, somewhere deep inside this locked heart of mine. All I want, is to finally be me, and it seems like that's the one thing I cannot have.

Such is life, I suppose. I just want to be the typical teenager; I want to declare my independence, be my own person, live my own life, on my own. Sometimes, I guess that that is too much to ask. I don't even know anymore.