[lonely but not alone]
I have felt alone for a really long time. And it's in no way, shape or form because I have no people around me. In fact, it's exactly the opposite. I have an amazing couple friends, a fantastic family, and now a new group of people around me in my new school.
And, to be perfectly honest, I think this is the scariest shit (excuse my language) there is.
I'm not depressed. I don't suffer from anxiety. I'm don't have ADD or ADHD. I'm average height. I have blond hair and blue-grey eyes. I dress classy (on sometimes lazy). From the outside, I look like I have everything together.
But I don't. Right now, nothing feels together in my life.
Like I said, I feel very alone.
I've explained this before, but I'm going to do it once again. So bear with me.
--
For the past year, I've been struggling. I haven't been able to eat almost anything. I felt like I was starving myself, only because I didn't ever have an appetite. People noticed, and it was awkward and uncomfortable trying to explain my strange dietary habits to everyone I came into contact with. So, naturally, I just stopped trying to explain it. I say, "I just don't eat. Like ever," and I let people decide how they want to proceed.
Within the first couple months of this happening, my mother and I tried everything we could think of to try and fix this weird "disease" growing in me. But, because she didn't know what was wrong, I had to explain.
And let me tell you something: nothing, I repeat, NOTHING makes you feel more alone then trying to explain what's going on with you over and over, and yet nobody ever understands. I truly believe that's what will happen in hell.
I had never been depressed before (and I don't believe that I actually was depressed ever through this process), but I found myself slipping into a pit of fear that nobody would ever know what it was like and that I would never be cured. I honestly believe (and still believe to this day) that I'm dying of cancer.
Then, finally the clouds started to part. My chiropractor understood me, and I went on a health supplement that started to push away my terrible stomach pains (and all over pains), and I was finally able to eat full sized meals again. This kept working for a while. My pains were gone for the most part, and I was able to start living a mostly normal life again. I even went off the supplement and I was still doing fantastic.
But, at the most inconvenient times, life decides to be a slut and screw me over. I started feeling worse again -- sometimes even more so than I did before. I wasn't eating again, never mind my weight started to go down. Again. I was only roughly 110 lbs. to begin with.
Then, and I don't blame her for this at all (so if by some odd chance you're reading this mother, please do not take offense at this), my mom would start getting angry at me. I would tell her I felt bad, and she would ask when I ate that day. My response would almost always be nothing. And she's get angry. "You have to take better care of yourself!" she'd say. "Make sure you eat something," she'd remind. But how am I suppose to eat when even the thought of food makes me want to die? How can I force food down my throat when chewing it makes my stomach acid threaten to force it's way out of me? How can one possibly starve themselves and yet want to throw up at the very mention of food? It's a paradox that I will never understand.
As much as I've been alone, I've also been angry. Angry at my mom, for not understanding me, and for always telling me to eat even when I don't want to. Angry at the people around me, for even looking at me when I shamefully throw away a plateful of food I thought I wanted.
But mostly, I was angry -- pissed even - at God for making me feel all of these shitty things. For making me constantly feel pain and making me feel malnourished, underweight, and ashamed for it. And if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I still feel these things. And I think that's what's making me feel so alone.
Tonight, I had some quiet time to myself. Just me and God, sitting alongside the seminary pond at Calvin college. It was the last activity of Quest, our right before school orientation. We had lit candles representing our fears to put the on the lake and watch float away, and we had lit lanterns representing our hopes to take flight. It was absolutely humbling and beautiful.
Then it was alone time. Almost the whole group was sitting there, just worshipping and reflecting on who knows what. I was sitting on the edge of the pond, watching the lanterns go back and listening to the worship around me. And then it hit me, and I only just realized now what it was. It was God. He was reminding me that He is good, and that He is in control. These terrible thoughts that I've been thinking, and these terrible pains that I've been feeling, aren't from Him. They're from the devil.
It was so sudden that I didn't even know what had happened (I honestly only realized this in hindsight). I started crying. It was a few tears at first, and then they were covering my face. A wave of either understanding or relief or both came flooding through me. And I needed someone. So, I prayed that God would send me best friend around the pond to find me. Then the sprinklers came on and ruined that prayer. So I got up to start walking back to my dorm. And I kept praying that God would send her to me, so I could just cry and hug her and be with someone who wasn't going to ask questions if I didn't want to talk.
I made it part of the way to my dorm, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. And I was afraid. Very afraid that it was going to be someone that I had only just met. That they were going to ask what was wrong. That they weren't going to be able to comfort me simply because it was going to be awkward. But I turned around, and there she was. My amazing best friend: my first prayer answered so vividly and fully. I couldn't help but stop and start to cry again. And I pretty much exhausted my tears on her shoulder. And then we kept walking, her only asking if I wanted to talk, and taking "no" as a perfectly acceptable answer.
I don't know where to go from here. Obviously, I can't keep being mad at God, especially because it's not His fault. I can't keep living the same way I am, or I'll never be able to eat. I have to keep praying, and believe that my prayers hold weight and can actually come true. But it's going to be small steps -- VERY small steps. I have goals for myself. I just hope that I can start to reconcile the relationship that I lost with God -- one that I didn't even know was broken.
So go with the understanding that can only come from God the father,
Carly
And, to be perfectly honest, I think this is the scariest shit (excuse my language) there is.
I'm not depressed. I don't suffer from anxiety. I'm don't have ADD or ADHD. I'm average height. I have blond hair and blue-grey eyes. I dress classy (on sometimes lazy). From the outside, I look like I have everything together.
But I don't. Right now, nothing feels together in my life.
Like I said, I feel very alone.
I've explained this before, but I'm going to do it once again. So bear with me.
--
For the past year, I've been struggling. I haven't been able to eat almost anything. I felt like I was starving myself, only because I didn't ever have an appetite. People noticed, and it was awkward and uncomfortable trying to explain my strange dietary habits to everyone I came into contact with. So, naturally, I just stopped trying to explain it. I say, "I just don't eat. Like ever," and I let people decide how they want to proceed.
Within the first couple months of this happening, my mother and I tried everything we could think of to try and fix this weird "disease" growing in me. But, because she didn't know what was wrong, I had to explain.
And let me tell you something: nothing, I repeat, NOTHING makes you feel more alone then trying to explain what's going on with you over and over, and yet nobody ever understands. I truly believe that's what will happen in hell.
I had never been depressed before (and I don't believe that I actually was depressed ever through this process), but I found myself slipping into a pit of fear that nobody would ever know what it was like and that I would never be cured. I honestly believe (and still believe to this day) that I'm dying of cancer.
Then, finally the clouds started to part. My chiropractor understood me, and I went on a health supplement that started to push away my terrible stomach pains (and all over pains), and I was finally able to eat full sized meals again. This kept working for a while. My pains were gone for the most part, and I was able to start living a mostly normal life again. I even went off the supplement and I was still doing fantastic.
But, at the most inconvenient times, life decides to be a slut and screw me over. I started feeling worse again -- sometimes even more so than I did before. I wasn't eating again, never mind my weight started to go down. Again. I was only roughly 110 lbs. to begin with.
Then, and I don't blame her for this at all (so if by some odd chance you're reading this mother, please do not take offense at this), my mom would start getting angry at me. I would tell her I felt bad, and she would ask when I ate that day. My response would almost always be nothing. And she's get angry. "You have to take better care of yourself!" she'd say. "Make sure you eat something," she'd remind. But how am I suppose to eat when even the thought of food makes me want to die? How can I force food down my throat when chewing it makes my stomach acid threaten to force it's way out of me? How can one possibly starve themselves and yet want to throw up at the very mention of food? It's a paradox that I will never understand.
As much as I've been alone, I've also been angry. Angry at my mom, for not understanding me, and for always telling me to eat even when I don't want to. Angry at the people around me, for even looking at me when I shamefully throw away a plateful of food I thought I wanted.
But mostly, I was angry -- pissed even - at God for making me feel all of these shitty things. For making me constantly feel pain and making me feel malnourished, underweight, and ashamed for it. And if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I still feel these things. And I think that's what's making me feel so alone.
Tonight, I had some quiet time to myself. Just me and God, sitting alongside the seminary pond at Calvin college. It was the last activity of Quest, our right before school orientation. We had lit candles representing our fears to put the on the lake and watch float away, and we had lit lanterns representing our hopes to take flight. It was absolutely humbling and beautiful.
Then it was alone time. Almost the whole group was sitting there, just worshipping and reflecting on who knows what. I was sitting on the edge of the pond, watching the lanterns go back and listening to the worship around me. And then it hit me, and I only just realized now what it was. It was God. He was reminding me that He is good, and that He is in control. These terrible thoughts that I've been thinking, and these terrible pains that I've been feeling, aren't from Him. They're from the devil.
It was so sudden that I didn't even know what had happened (I honestly only realized this in hindsight). I started crying. It was a few tears at first, and then they were covering my face. A wave of either understanding or relief or both came flooding through me. And I needed someone. So, I prayed that God would send me best friend around the pond to find me. Then the sprinklers came on and ruined that prayer. So I got up to start walking back to my dorm. And I kept praying that God would send her to me, so I could just cry and hug her and be with someone who wasn't going to ask questions if I didn't want to talk.
I made it part of the way to my dorm, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. And I was afraid. Very afraid that it was going to be someone that I had only just met. That they were going to ask what was wrong. That they weren't going to be able to comfort me simply because it was going to be awkward. But I turned around, and there she was. My amazing best friend: my first prayer answered so vividly and fully. I couldn't help but stop and start to cry again. And I pretty much exhausted my tears on her shoulder. And then we kept walking, her only asking if I wanted to talk, and taking "no" as a perfectly acceptable answer.
I don't know where to go from here. Obviously, I can't keep being mad at God, especially because it's not His fault. I can't keep living the same way I am, or I'll never be able to eat. I have to keep praying, and believe that my prayers hold weight and can actually come true. But it's going to be small steps -- VERY small steps. I have goals for myself. I just hope that I can start to reconcile the relationship that I lost with God -- one that I didn't even know was broken.
So go with the understanding that can only come from God the father,
Carly
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