I've had a difficult last several weeks.
Then this morning I stumbled upon this post.
Sigh . . .
I stink at being 'real'. I mean - I'm not 'fake', what you see/read is what you get. But really 'real' stinks. For the first 30 years of my life I managed 'real' by icing down and sucking up anything that hurt. Let it go/don't allow it to impact you and it won't exist and off you go. (While half of this is genetic, the other half is my own twisted take on the first half.)
Long about 30 I started experimenting with feelings. Boldly going where I had not gone before. Acknowledging I was feeling something, figuring out what it was called, and then graduating to figuring out what to do with it. No easy task, these buggers are the pits. Twists, turns, rarely a clear target, and they tend to travel together in mixed groups of yick.
I still stink at this. Striking the balance between being honest about whatever is going on and trying to look at it through a biblical worldview is still a challenge. My faith says to hand it over to Christ. If I was really doing that, would it continue to hurt? Seemingly no. I wonder if this is all a lesson in obedience?
Gibberish is probably up next so I'm going to stop. Being real is one thing, but is there anything much edifying about gibberish?