Rocky

I lost my best friend and confidant a little over a week ago. And while it seems like it was just moments, it already seems like a lifetime away. He had walked through life’s struggles with me, sat and cried with me and let me cuddle with him when the world outside seemed cold and dark. He never judged me or scolded me for over reacting. He didn’t care that my mascara was running or that I was wearing my comfy pants for the second night in a row. He loved me unconditionally.

I had always said that no one else would love that pup like I did. He was in many ways my heart and soul. He saw me at my worst, brought out my best and no matter what he always wanted to be near me—even when I couldn’t stand myself.

He was my first dog and I was surprised how much my heart could love him in the short seven and a half years he was a part of my life.

He was my best and longest relationship with the opposite sex and while to some that may sound sad, I think it’s much to be expected. He never let me down, never broke my heart (until a week ago) and at every turn wanted to know how I was or where I was (and yes, apparently I still can go to the bathroom without him in the same room, but it doesn’t seem the same).

Rocky was there when things hit the fan. He licked my tears, laid with me when I couldn’t move and listened to me yell at no one in particular. He was a godsend, a major player in me making it through the past five years and in many ways the tangible version of a God who I can not touch.

Now he’s gone.

It has been 8 days, six of those have involved tears, but I'm always sad and I miss him constantly. I talk to him, sleep with his toy clutched to me (the ones that I refused to pick up after he slobbered on them-those seem the most precious now). I added his dog tag to my keys and find myself rubbing it mindlessly. I’m constantly sad, no matter what my face may be showing. My whole body knows that something is off.

And it doesn’t just end there. The house is quiet. It makes sounds I’ve never heard before and things spook me easily. I can’t watch a scary movie because who will comfort me? I give directions to my house and get sad as I drive our walking route. I see remnants of him and my heart weeps a little. How am I doing? I’m holding on. Outside is one thing, inside is another.

I get concerned easily. I'm nervous to answer the phone--feeling like something tragic is coming. A number I don’t recognize could mean an accident or answers and each one holds it’s own set of fears.

So much tragedy, so much pain in 29 years. There has to be a reason for all this pain. Other pain I’ve gone through I have seen the other side and I see Him at work. But, Rocky?!!? He was so much a part of me. How can his tragic and horrible death come from a God who is supposed to love me? I don’t see it and I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m confused.

So, no, in no way am I back to 'normal,” no matter what you see on my face, but I’m hanging on the best I know how without him.

Deafeated and Depleted

Do you ever feel like God totally showed up when you needed him to? That is how I feel right now, like this little ray of sunshine can be enough to keep me going for a little while longer.

It shouldn’t surprise me when it happens, because time and time again he has done it. Yet, each instance causes me to just stop and marvel in his grace, mercy and love for me.

I wasn’t feeling exceptionally loved waking up today and was feeling defeated and depleted on many playing fields. Worry about what other people think and putting my identity in the hands of others had caused tears and frustration. A criticism from someone I didn’t even know seemed to be the icing on the cake.

So, I started to do what I should have done way earlier and I just asked God to remind me of my identity. To help that insecure little girl inside my head fully understand how wide, how long, how high and how deep is the Father’s love for me. That I would find my value in the fact that I am his treasured daughter. That these truths would just take root in my soul and I would stop struggling with this concept.

And then He showed up.

And I’m still sitting here in awe. It was a simple thing really, but in one night he tackled three fears. It’s like He was saying, “I want you to get this, I know you’re hurting and I so want you to grasp this. I can’t stop until you really get it. Because until you do, you won’t fully live the life I have for you. But see here, in the midst of this pain, I’m reminding you that I love you.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that He showed up. But I am. I walked in faith, out of my comfort zone, to do what He wanted. There have been attacks, but tonight was reiteration that this is where He wants me. When I put my trust in me or my ability, I will fail and I will fall. It’s not to say that it will be easy or that I won’t struggle, but I’m marinating on how wide and long and high and deep is His love for me. I AM his treasured daughter!

Artistic View

I don’t know how people view me. For most of life this doesn’t really matter. Oh, the ideas enter my head as fleeting thoughts pretty regularly, but they don’t prohibit my ability to move, think, act or grow. Then something happens and I’m stopped in my tracks. A moment where I’m suddenly confronted with the reality that I don’t know the impression I’m giving and I don’t know if it’s the one I want to be espousing.

Is my body language showing how I truly feel? Are my actions and efforts being mistaken or misread? Do my insecurities and issues shine through the facade I’ve placed in front to protect myself? Do people like me, am I making them comfortable? Do they view me as awkward as I see myself?

I get caught in this mind game of trying to figure all these things out, but the reality is that many times I may never know. People fly in and out of my life and I may never truly understand what they felt about me and it’s probably best that I never broach the subject.

In talking to those close to me, I realize that many people in my inner circle have opinions that, while similar, do vary to some degree. I begin to see patterns in what they view and what I tell them. How close I let them in and the stages they see me on. The places we’ve met or the pretenses we have operated under.

Don’t get me wrong, I am myself through and through- take it or leave it. But, one person probably said it best that I am guarded. Silly it seems as I place this out there for all of cyber space, but I am guarded. Myself with a different rating-- depending on our relationship. Some get certain parts of me while others see a completely different set. Levels that, I guess, are determined somewhere in my own head.

Comfort? Safety? Trust? I’m not sure how I make those determinations, but I do.

I guess the most important question I should ask is how do I see myself? Do I like what I see? Does my view match up with the version I’m showing to the masses. And how do I change if I need to. I don’t know if I have the answers to all those questions, but I’m trying.

Trying to determine what it means for the parts that don’t quite align. Why do some people see me as more outspoken while others see my more introspective side? They are both parts of me that come and go. They ebb and flow at times depending on situation, circumstance, attitude, comfort level and a whole slew of factors I may not even realize.

I am multifaceted, not just a simple piece, but a tapestry made up of many fabrics. So, why do some see only yellow while others view blues and greens more readily? And who are those people that can see the final artwork? They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe I just need to come to peace with the fact that we are all art critics and those who are meant to see the magnificence in the tapestry will. Those who are not will walk away either feeling slighted or no worse for the experience.