Honest Reflections

Tonight I saw a falling star. I’ve never seen one before. It was absolutely beautiful-like a burst of fire in the black sky amidst the backdrop of a full moon. I made a wish, a very simple one, but I did make a wish.

I guess I’m struggling. One of my best friend’s was in town at her family’s house. I was able to go over and see everybody-her and her husband, her parents, her brother and wife, and her friend and child. She doesn’t know this, but it takes all my strength to go over and visit. See, it’s not that I don’t love these people and want to be with these people, but being with these people remind me of what I don’t have.

Ever since I was a teenager, her family stepped in and made sure that I had somewhere to go to on holidays and such. They are wonderful people; generous, kind, and prime examples of God’s grace. But we grow older and we become more independent, and people get married and such. And that’s the hard part. Going over reminds me of what I don’t have and as much joy as I gain, I also come away with sadness in my heart.

I often feel so alone-what family I have isn’t exactly close at times and quite fragmented. And, as satisfied sometimes that I am with being single, it’s also very lonely, and more so now than ever. I feel like I’m against the world some days, and lately it’s me trying to figure out where the heck I fit in. I truly don’t think I do, and I don’t think I’m meant to. In many ways, it’s a lot more fun not belonging, but it’s a lonely path.

I’ve had a super amount of change in the last year, and for the most part, it’s been in the positive direction. But change takes its toll, and can weaken the body. I came home tonight in a mixture of emotions. I hated even having a smidgen of sadness in me. I wrote in my journal, and still feeling out of sorts, I smudged and prayed.

I’m doing okay, despite crying a bucket load of tears while writing this. My chin is wet, and I even have tear stains on my tank top. Right now, I need to figure out where my place is. I was sure of myself at Sandy Bay last year-and honestly, I feel like I’ve been picked up and moved to another world this year. It’s not bad, but it’s change, and change isn’t my forte. I’m struggling, but I’m okay. I am a survivor-I’ve always been. It’s continued self reflection, journal writing, and a lot of praying. I smudge at least once a day (providing I can), and it brings me comfort. It reminds me that there is something greater at work, and that everything has purpose.