Christianity Unraveled

February 29th, 2020

I've tried to write three different times, and I've deleted them all. It feels like I can't find the right words to say (or write, I suppose), though I have absolutely no idea of what I want to in the first place.

I wish I had words that were profound.

I wish I had words that pierced the very soul and minds of the people who hear me. I wish I had words that healed, that felt, that cared, that made a difference. I wish I had words to begin with.

I wish I had less anger and frustration. I wish I wouldn't be bothered so much by people insisting they know what the right way is. I wish I were better at having civil and open conversations with people who think the way I used to, and I wish I had less frustration when I want to say something but no one asks me. I wish I could express words when no one asks me if I wish to express them.

I wish I had more patience and peace. I wish I could sit down and stay in silence without feeling compelled to either distract myself or take a nap. I wish I could go about my day without feeling the weight of time on my shoulders, without checking where I have to be next, without feeling like I am not doing enough. I wish I could talk with people and be an actual calming and peaceful presence like I used to be. I wish I were better at listening and not interjecting. I feel like I have been hearing myself talk over or for people way too much lately.

I feel like I have been talking too much lately. I think that some time between this summer and this current day I turned into this person who is unable to be actually present whenever I listen to others. I turned into a person who wants to interject my thoughts and feelings and overpower others. I no longer feel like I am listening to listen. In fact, it feels like I'm not listening at all.

Maybe it feels like I don't care.

Honestly, I feel so fake and real at the same exact time. I feel as though I am split into at least seven different people and personalities and each changes according to who I am around and what I am feeling that day. I feel utterly ingenuine and prideful, and I absolutely hate it. I wish I could just stop feeling like I am hurting others by not being the person I expect myself to be. It feels as if I have this person in my head – this ideal lady who reaches out to others and genuinely listens, asks questions, and is vulnerable without an agenda – and yet I simply cannot reach this ideal. The more I learn about the human psyche, the less it feels like I am being a person and the more it feels like I am being a calculating predictor of how to interact with humanity.

And with that comes a disconnect.

I know what to do and how to do it, but because I know how to and because I can, it feels like everything is manipulative and nothing is genuine. It feels like I can never fully listen or be genuine when I am trying to because I have this constant dialogue in my head dictating what I say or how I say it or if I should even say anything. I am this probing, digging, 'aspiring counselor' I suppose that feels as though I am filled with both meaning and none at the same time.

It feels like I both overshare and undershare at the same time. I feel like I am not vulnerable enough, but it also feels as though I am much too vulnerable. I also hate the question, "How are you doing?" I feel like I need to either fabricate something or tell the truth that I am not entirely sure is the truth. I say life has been a bit hard and I share why that was (perhaps my partner had to leave for his home again, or perhaps I didn't do as well as I was hoping to on an exam) because if I share a small detain of 'vulnerability,' people will be more apt to talk to me about their lives.

I wish I had words.

I wish my words could be once again filled with kindness, genuinity, hope, love, care, patience, and peace. I wish I could listen like I used to be able to. I wish I weren't as frustrated with the people and the world as it feels like I currently am.

But more than that, I wish I knew if my words were real.