You don’t know how hard I have to laugh and how loud I have to talk so I can drown out the loss of your friendship. I know I got a bit crazy those last few weeks. I mean, more crazy than usual. It was unfair of me to cling to you in such a way and expect you to just handle it the way I wanted, or even needed, you to handle it. I knew my behavior was inexcusable and overwhelming and insane and stressful – but here I go rambling again. I want to yell at you that you weren’t brave enough to just tell me goodbye and briefly explain the circumstances as to why we can no longer be friends anymore. But … that’s also not fair. Let’s be honest, I’m a mess of a human being and I shouldn’t be mad at you (or anyone else) who has or who will walk away.
There’s a song by Lacy Sturm, “You’re Not Alone”. She wrote the song when a dying woman had told her relatives that they were not alone – that God is always with them. It was this woman’s dying wish that they not rely upon her or anyone else to be God, because there’s only one God that is God enough to be God for you. For so long, I have projected the actions of other people onto my Heavenly Father. One day, I sent you a text how your consistency and patience with me reminded me that Heavenly Father isn’t leaving either. The problem was, I was still projecting you onto my relationship with my Heavenly Father, and so when you “left”, I let go of God. I fell apart in a really silent way. It’s not your fault. It’s mine, and maybe all of this Hell I’ve been going through is a blessing, so that I can learn to fully trust in the reality of God and His love for me. I was at the women’s conference last night in the most terrible mood ever for countless reasons. All I could think is I just needed something. Anything. President Uchtdorf’s talk was exactly what I needed, and it’s given me a lot to ponder.
Knowing all of this doesn’t make it hurt any less. In fact, I haven’t even let myself accept any of it. Not really. I don’t have the luxury to let myself feel your absence or allow myself to truly break.
I have been keeping all my pieces together – not just from you, but from everything, and today I can’t do it. Today, I can’t be happy. I can’t laugh. I can’t smile. I’m okay, and I’ll be fine … but I think I need to let myself cry. I need to let myself feel this, because in the words of John Green, “That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.”
So, today I am not battling my depression quite so gracefully. I am crying over the loss of your friendship, the loneliness and isolation I find myself drowning in, the memories of a life I once built years ago that I had to walk away from, the child that died inside me before ever getting a chance to live, and the fear of having to go through everything alone because even if people try to be there for me, I can’t let anyone in … because if I *really* let them in, they will walk away.
I’m crying because sometimes I wonder how Heavenly Father must feel, when he holds onto us so tightly – loves us so much – and we just walk away without so much as a word. Your silence kills me, and I’m only human. I wonder how much our silence – my silence right now – hurts our Heavenly Father.
Serendipity Minds 