And I can’t tell you why…

Today something really sad happened to me, something that had never happened before. A friend who had previously been very close rejected me, with absolutely no chance of redemption. It felt so terrible that I would wish it on nobody, not even the worst person ever, and I only pray that I’ll always remember how it feels solely so I never treat another person in the same way. I did something similar once to someone I loved and haven’t been able to even find her since in order to reconcile and ask her forgiveness, ten years later. I miss her, like, every other day. Being rejected is not going to sour me on relationships, however, even with this friend. I’m still going to put myself out there and be vulnerable and real and all the me I can be, because that’s so important. I won’t pretend I don’t feel like suck, though. You just feel so helpless.

Apart from that, life is actually good. Which is incredible for me to hear coming out of my own mouth because some of my circumstances are utter crap and people would not believe that even one tiny little good thing could ever be involved in them. But I was sitting in my prayer chair (because it rhymes) today, meditating quietly by looking around the room,  when I suddenly felt an amazing and incredible peace flow over me regarding the fact that I have zero self-confidence left. Zed. I can’t get a job, can’t keep friends, and for some reason even the strangers at the local college are refusing to return my calls. Yet, I know beyond a shadow that I’m right where God wants me. In his little pocket, riding around in her little purse. And that I’m everything God wants me to be. That everything’s okay. I haven’t felt like this in forever, and I even sang a spontaneous little song to God from my cloud of joy. It went like this:

“Ho-o-oly… ho-l-y… ho-o-l-y…

“Submi-i-ission… subm-i-i-s-s-ion… etc.”

You can’t tell from that, but it was really pretty and meaningful, and I sang it into the carpet because where I was staring looked like the eye of God. You’ll just have to believe me that it was a Moment. Our church has three, count them, three choirs and I’m thinking I might get my voice back in shape so I can audition for one of them. They sing songs in Swahili and Italian and two weeks ago sang a Requiem accompanied by a real chamber orchestra. They’re so classy.

You guys, listen to my favorite Late Great Harry Chapin song. It’s really beautiful. Ignore the weird accompanying crop circle video unless you’re into that. Thanks for being here! kiss!

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2 Comments

Filed under God I'm depressed, Hope, Hug it out bitch, Woo-woo

2 responses to “And I can’t tell you why…

  1. Kel, that sounds like an amazing moment. I miss those. Maybe I will have them again one day. I wonder…does it take faith? Must.

    I’m glad for you, though. Because I remember how much joy a moment like that brings, joy that runs deep, that brings tears, that silences the inner clamor for a minute. I remember moments like that bringing such a sense of connection…which makes it even more meaningful that you had one after the loss of relationship.

    I’ve been rejected like that, too. I had a dear friend that I’d been in relationship to for over a decade but it had gotten unhealthy. It was a give/give deal and I realized we needed to re-examine the parameters of our friendship. When I tried to talk to her about it, she flipped. She was so mean and ugly…stalked me on the internet, told horrible lies about me to all of our mutual acquaintances, stuff like that. It hurt. I was so tempted to rush out and defend myself, but I didn’t. Even now, sometimes I miss her. Even with all of the hatefulness.

    I also had a dear friend that I let go of without a clear goodbye. It was right as I was coming out, divorcing, and becoming an agnostic. She was moving and I just couldn’t get my shit together for a last visit. I will always regret that. She was an amazing woman, young but wise, fun and smart and I wish she could know how much her friendship meant to me. Ah, regrets.

    I’ve also had a couple of friends that I had to let go of because they were sucking the life out of me. I’ve come to the point in my life where I realize that I can’t save anyone, I can’t be friends with everyone and that’s okay. Life is too short to waste it trying to please, fix or accommodate those who aren’t meant to be in my life…

    • Hello, honey. I can’t even describe (but know I don’t have to, to you) how wonderful it is to have faith again after being so dry and angry for years. I was searching for a sense of *home* and suddenly found it, not really inexplicably, since I had been looking my butt off for it by various and sundry means, but gratefully… and I think, I hope, even FINALLY. My belief in God, this time around, feels truly unbound, totally free, and my spirit feels happy and like flying around all over the place. I can finally trust again. It’s the most exhilarating feeling when I’m in the midst of it, which again, I know you’ve experienced yourself. I know you’re coming to it again, Twi. I know it. We all have our own space and time.

      Regarding the rejection, my friend couldn’t have been kinder, thankfully, which does soften the inexorability of it a bit, but in another way it makes it harder. I understand the reasoning behind it, which I won’t get into out of respect, but I don’t agree with it. It’s in the same family of reasoning I used with the friend I rejected years ago. Now that I’m older and have come to see things a little differently, I am so full of regret for her. She was such a good friend, my best at the time, and so fun and loving and beautiful and encouraging and we rode the same wave of thought. I wish so much I could tell her how I feel now.

      It’s hard to know how to deal with energy vampires, especially when they’re genuinely hurting and in need of help. I want to be there for them, but you’re right, it’s impossible to be available for every-single-body. It’s kind of interesting, this concept of energy. The other day, in church, I stood next to a guy who was clearly struggling with a mental illness: among other things, he was constantly twitchy and restless and unable to settle at all. At one point, during the singing, he moved a little too close, infringing on my personal space, and my first instinct was to quickly scootch away. But it occurred to me that maybe I had something that he needed, because my personal presence is generally very calming (maybe even somnambulant! :), so I stood still and let him impinge. I believe that was a loving decision for the moment, BUT, there are other times you simply can’t let people do that to you. It’s a case-by-case basis. You know what’s awesome? Being conscious enough to make that decision. That doesn’t happen often to me, so I’m always extremely pleased when it does. xo

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