March "Forth"

I've been a little dry lately. Of course, my blog has developed into not much more than a bitch-session, me being the bitch, and in the bitching I can usually find humor, a little relief, and occasionally a little love from a helpful comment. But in the last few weeks, I've lost my irritability that made me so darn interesting (I can hear some of you now - "Don't kid yourself! You're a pain in the ass!" - said with rolled eyes and a "bless-her-heart" sort of patience.) But I feel like I've let people down - I've become boring and pseudo-content, which could be a good thing if I were a little more joyful rather than complacent.

Complacency is a deceptive thing. It feels comfortable, and you can really just be "you" when you're being complacent. You don't have to try very hard at anything, because you're not allowing yourself to strive for more than what you have; not even entertaining the thought of what that more could be. Complacency tricks you into thinking you're OK, that you're content, when in reality, you are living a sub-par life. It's not quite a "rut," but it's a step or two away. Can anyone get what I mean here? I know I keep saying "you," but of course I really mean me. I drove in to my apartment complex tonight and had a deja vu of living in my old apt. in Parker. And the thought came to me that I have traded the same life I had there for the same thing here. Teach, occasionally hang out with people I love, sleep a lot, live in an overpriced apartment, and do, well, really, not much else. Tonight as I had that numbing thought, I walked up the three flights of stairs racking my brain with "who should I call?" because I felt tears coming on, and as Sonja knows, I RARELY cry (strange for a girl, I know) and I scrolled through my phone list, and I started to feel really resentful to God that I didn't have that one person that's my backup - that I know I could ALWAYS call, and I know there are people in my life that would say they are that person, and they're sweet to think it, but the reality is that, well, four of them did not answer when I called, and you know, it's not anybody's job to be on-call for me, but it was just one of those moments where I felt the weight of truly being alone. The spiritual voice in me says I'm not made for this world, that I'm not meant to find completeness in anyone or anything this side of heaven, that my identity is in Christ, that I am never alone. That voice has some foundation in scripture, and that's all good, and I do believe it. But I'm still feeling lonely, and frankly, it just feels good to write about things that don't have to do with snippy notes on my car or ways that my colleagues make me crazy.

I don't want to be complacent anymore. I want to be like my friend Cynthia, or my friend Annie, who can feel deeply and articulate what they feel and what they need, being honest with people and with God about what's goin' on. I've always struggled with being a little too "real" with God, a little on the verbal and argumentative side (gee, can you tell?), but I think that's OK. He can handle it - and I think I just needed to acknowledge my sadness and articulate that though it may not look like it, I'm trying to be a better woman. I'm gonna figure this out one day, and there will be much rejoicing throughout... well, me.