lost at sea- reaching out

It has been too long since I wrote something here. Perhaps I felt too raw, too resentful. perhaps I wasn’t sure what to say. Perhaps I didn’t have words.

We all know that last wasn’t true. I always have words. Too many words.

I am missing the space to reflect and process. I am missing intentional community, however dysfunctional it might have been. I am missing being forced to look inwards. So I am forcing myself.

I can’t speak in specifics about what I caption, but the loneliness sometimes echos my own. I feel for those who rarely see those they care about. I feel for those who are aware that death is not far off. I fill my time when not on calls coming up with ideas that I’m not fully sure I have energy for. I take on more work hours to try and outfit a room with furniture so I can stop taking on more hours.

Right now I am missing feeling called to anything. I feel like my job serves a purpose, yes. But I miss that sense of fulfillment from before. Like a waxing strip that was too hot and tore off a layer of skin right over my heart and with it took a piece of my soul.

My roommate is nice enough, but I have grown so used to community meals and had been longing for that all year when it wouldn’t happen and I still feel it. I spend most of my days in silence unless I’m repeating what other people say right now. I have a few friends at work, but there isn’t much time. The bus ride is long.

I find myself questioning so many things, asking God why. I pray a lot. I struggle, I cry, I get up, I try again. I search for things to do that fit my schedule and the bus schedule and my budget. I seem to find nothing. I feel more alone.

And so I’ve avoided writing it down. Because it feels like writing it down makes it infinitely more true than just struggling with it. Putting on a good face and toughing it out. I have to realize that this is not true. Either way it is true but perhaps this makes it more bearable.

I have realized in these last two months out of the program that my problem was not program commitments, it was that for all I tried, community still wasn’t there. And I think now that my struggle and feeling still remarkably unhealthy is that I am so divorced from my community because my life is so busy with work so I can live.

I feel like a tiny boat out at sea in rough waves, not a lighthouse in sight. For an extrovert, the only sporadic human contact is a real struggle. For someone who really pushed into opening up and forcing themself to reflect, the lack of it makes me feel overwhelmed. Self-reflection is one thing, but actual work with others in that manner.

I have had many transitions in my life where I have had to struggle, but I don’t know that I have ever felt so alone and cut off from everything that was making me actually happy even in what was difficult. I’m trying to figure it out. I could use some help.

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