Blog Every Day August: 8/8

I am in a surprisingly good mood at the moment. Surprising for general reasons, but also for the fact that I have suddenly found myself at the bottom of a great rut since yesterday evening. I make a lot of fun over it, which keeps me from crying about it (see "and if I laugh at any mortal thing, tis that I may not weep"), but I reread a bunch of old IM logs Dobbin and I kept and it started to eat away at me again. All those promises, all those glorious things he said. I didn't always believe them. In fact, I usually didn't. But they were still there and it still kills me that he said them so earnestly and then took them all back. I never lied, as I mentioned. When he told me he loved me a mere week into our relationship, I didn't answer as if it were call and response. Instead I thanked him and said I hoped he could wait until I knew exactly how I felt. Even upon repetition, I withheld and kept my wits about me. Mature, right? But I'm getting off track here. As I say, I'm in a much better mood at the moment. I can't pinpoint exactly why.

We went to Sunday school with the youth group I've mentioned previously this morning. As it's a bit of a drive, we've only been going to Sunday school, which is during the second service. It works out well because we aren't fond of the pastor at all. He rubs me completely the wrong way, and I'm always left frustrated by his sermons. So instead we go to Sunday school where they pick a topic and go from there, usually wandering off tangentially in opposite directions. This is something I can personally relate to, and while we sometimes cross subjects that can be controversial, I can usually find common ground somewhere--even in just "well, we aren't really sure, are we?" and "it can be interpreted in a lot of ways."

And don't get me wrong, I often do not relate to them, but I have yet to witness complete catastrophe. Always preferable. Some of the members are really nice, but others... I don't know them that well, or they rub me the wrong way. I'm sure they have many redeeming qualities, but sometimes I feel as if I'm in a room of eight year olds. But who am I to say and some are nice and it isn't all that bad, sitting at a table with them for an hour discussing topics we--let's be honest here--don't yet know much about. I was especially inspired by the words of one really, really nice girl today. We were almost finished and discussing one aspect of belief, whether we believed in it or not, and she theorized that she could see herself accepting it. "But," I asked, "if you did believe it and turned out to be incorrect, would you be wrong or unrighteous?" She smiled warmly. "No," she said. "No, I don't think so. I think that as long as you have the core, as long as you mean well and seek Him earnestly, that is the important thing. And the core," she said, clasping her hands together, "is love. No matter your religion, be you Jew or Muslim or whatever, the core is love and if you are heartfelt..." She grinned again, that infectious smile, and I agreed. And I'm only just realizing now how much hope her words bring me, because I feel so much the same but cannot truly express it.

But still, once I got home I went straight to bed again. I felt gloomy, mostly about Dobbin but about just everything and how little I'm getting done. Even amidst this summer of doing nothing, I haven't truly given myself a break. I haven't given myself permission to enjoy myself. I may have gotten little done these last two months, but this doesn't mean I let myself go. I'm realizing this two weeks before school starts. It's unfortunate, yes, but a large part of me is glad to be heading towards something different. I'm coming to realize that, though I hate being overwhelmed, being busy is something I'm good at. I'll probably reread this a couple of months in the future and disagree rampantly through the whelmingness of all I'm supposed to get done, but the thought does occur to me. I don't properly know how to "have fun." That's another thing I'm realizing, how little room I give myself to breathe and exist without internal guilt and what-have-you. I don't know which is right, or whether there is a right, but there you go. More self discovery for you.

But amidst this gloom, an online friend of almost four years came to my rescue. Knowing the details of the Dobbin situation from the beginning (and I of her own story), she beckoned me to IM and let me rant at her. We talked about it and agreed to the stupidity of both our situations and chose our weapons against the offenders. It feels so nice, like I actually belong somewhere, when I speak to her. This isn't just "online friendship." This is FRIENDSHIP, and I am grateful. I am grateful for all of you. I am coming to realize that I am making lasting friendships on the internet, and though I've never met any of you... no, throw out the 'though.' Sometimes I feel like online friendships can be a lot more meaningful than those friendships you form on your own turf. I'm not friends with you because you exist (though, well, you do) and are conveniently located. I'm friends with you because I genuinely care, I genuinely hope the best for your wellbeing, and I do want to be there for you. Sure, sometimes this tiny little isolated town is lonely and I feel hopeless, but I have found absolutely real meaning in friendships formed online. And I am so, so grateful.

It was this, a few other conversations (I'm still all a dither over having multiple exchanges of words in one day) and reading that have lifted me closer to extricating myself from this rut. I have begun reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and it is just so beautiful. I lived ages eight to fourteen in Italy, and the author's words pertaining to it are making me homesick (something I never would have guessed could happen, save for my longing for the food). But it's beautiful. Just lying here in bed and reading on a summer evening, my alarm clock ticking beside me and resting my chin on my stuffed zebra, is... new. It is feelings like this that I long for. One thing I'm enjoying about exercising is that, while I'm doing it, it is acceptable not to be doing twenty other things. Allowing myself not to think or worry or panic all the time is not a natural state for me. It's something worth pursuing, even if it just means setting aside an hour on a Saturday evening. Something whole and set, something to allow me to unwind. I need to try. Also, I'm garishly behind on my reading, but then I shouldn't be worrying over that now. Worry, the constant companion.

My mother came in earlier and assessed my clothes so she can take them in. My mother has magic sewing skills. So that happened and I helped start the pizza she's making and now I'm back in my room with my book and fuzzy light waning outside my window as I write this without the help of my glasses. I keep waiting to crawl back into my hole of terrifying depression and confusion. I'm scared for it. But right now I'm writing this with more reading time close at hand and that summer sun drifting off, and I have hope. Hope gets me through a lot of times. Sometimes it is all I have to hold onto as I self-destruct and worry. I'm a work in progress. And guess what? Even when it is supremely uncomfortable, that is okay.

I walked home that night feeling like the air could move through me, like I was clean linen fluttering on a clothesline, like New York itself had become a city made of rice paper--and I was light enough to run across every rooftop. (25, Eat, Pray, Love)