Timing is everything.
All it took was one conversation. And life got really real, really fast.
It took me almost a decade to come around. And when I finally came around and was at peace and open to it all, he was gone. I didn’t expect him to wait for me—to wait for me to maybe change my mind, or get my shit together (whatever that really means because it’s all subjective), or figure out all the life things. Because I know myself and I am a late bloomer a lot of the times. I process slowly because I need to think things through in depth. And it takes me quite some time to get from square one to square two because I am constantly wrestling through the steps. Some people leap and fly, and they leap and fly quickly without second-guessing. I need a running start, then maybe I’ll hop, and skip, then jump.
I’ve spent the last couple of days sleep deprived with my heart completely wrecked, pouring out tears with enough questions to write a new Harry Potter series. I haven’t been given answers to any of my novels and it really is quite frustrating because all I am really trying to do is understand what life just served me on a platter.
I don’t care what anyone says: un- friend zoning is a real thing.
Just because you get put in the friend-zone doesn’t mean you’ll stay there forever. I should know because it’s happened to me. Multiple times. And by “happened to me” I mean that I have put people there and found myself asking why I had put them there years later. The truth is: no one is perfect. No one will ever be perfect. Everyone is broken and dealing with their baggage. Every day is a battle. You have to work at being better and believe it or not, people grow up and mature in ways you’d never expect them to because God does work in them. It’s a real thing.
I saw the signs. All of them. My closest friends saw the signs, and I just disregarded it with chuckles and quiet laughter. But I’m beginning to realize that sometimes you do that (put people in friend-zones, situationally of course) because you’re setting up walls around yourself. You do that even though you realize how great someone is for you—how much they challenge and strengthen you and make you better, how they are your number one supporter, and how much they actually care about your well-being. You do that even though you can talk to them on the phone about anything for hours and you actually very much hate talking on the phone. You are comfortable around them more than a lot of people, and you secretly in the back of your mind know that you would make a seriously kick ass team. And when you are uncomfortable, it’s a good kind of uncomfortable that urges growth. But you’re spending a hundred and twenty percent of your energy plus some making up bullshit excuses and running as far as you can because you are afraid. You’re pushing them away, ignoring text messages and dodging opportunities to hang out, unreceptive of their love because of the insecurities that are boiling inside of you.
All my life I have been taught to be kind. Be kind. Always give more than you take. Give, but don’t expect anything in return. Give, but don’t receive because you don’t deserve whatever it is that is being given to you. YOU DON’T DESERVE WHATEVER IT IS THAT IS BEING GIVEN TO YOU. That one lie—that you’re undeserving. That you have to prove yourself and your worth and value in order to gain something. That one lie has followed me around like a ghost for a very long time, and now I am reaping the consequences of believing in those dreadful words. I still remember the first time he gave me something super nice, just because. I freaked. Completely freaked and shut down. That was probably eight years ago.
Insecurity and fear will always be the enemy.
Hesitation is so strong right now. But I’ve come this far to pour truth onto these pages that I might as well keep going. So here we have it. The most honest of honest moments: I’ve been telling people recently that I have no desire to be in a relationship during this season of my life because I’ve been needing to focus on other areas that require more attention. I’ve said it so many times that I’ve actually convinced myself that it was true.
The real truth is that relationships scare the living crap out of me.
There is nothing that gives me more anxiety than knowing someone can walk away, even after twenty-five years of marriage, two grown kids, and a grandchild even if they are both following the Lord. There is nothing I find more frightening than knowing someone can just decide one day that they have nothing left to give to a relationship; that they no longer want to fight for it and struggle through life together to make that relationship work. I am afraid that all my brokenness is a little too much to handle so I’d rather truck through it alone because I know what it’s like to carry the burden of someone else’s struggles. I’ve also seen so many people fall out of love. I never want to be that person to fall out of love after I’ve chosen to commit my life to someone, and to walk life out with said person through everything and anything. But the fear is: who am I to say that it can’t happen. I’m so afraid that I’ll disappoint. Because at the end of the day, we’re all still very human.
Maybe those aren’t valid reasons. Maybe they are. But I’ve chosen to be where I am because that way, nobody loses. But if we really think about it, the person really losing is myself. Because I am keeping myself from experiencing the goodness that could come out of God weaving two peoples’ lives together with one vision to pursue His kingdom.
God has been shifting my perspectives. Slowly, But He’s doing it.
Six months ago, someone very close told me that I really deserve to be with someone who could reciprocate the kind of love that I give out. Just yesterday, one of my best friends blatantly scolded me about how I needed to be with someone that treats me with the same kind of love that I’ve been known to give to guys that I’ve really liked, and that it is okay to be taken care of and loved on. And my mom constantly tells me that I don’t need to be so strong. I’ve been telling her for years that I’m not trying to be, but that’s also a lie.
So I have been starting the process of letting the walls fall. Actually, it started a while ago, I just wasn’t very aware of it. Because, maybe it looks more like the toppling over when my friends and I play Jenga, rather than the demolition of an old Las Vegas strip hotel. But it’s progress, and I’m no longer resistant. God’s timing is God’s timing, and He is working hard on me.