Rescuing

This is actually a hard one for me to type tonight. I am putting myself on the line, my fears of who I am.

Sometimes I wonder at the types of stories I am drawn to. There seems to be within me a deep need to have a story of survival. Which, is actually kind of funny if you ask the people who know me best, because they will tell you (and me) that I have that kind of story. I guess to me it seems very surreal. Like it's somebody else's life. Like it couldn't have really been my life. Anyone else's life and it would be traumatic, dramatic and horrid. The kind of story fairy tales are made of, the damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm really someone else. If my story doesn't truly belong to me. It's as if it happened to someone else. Perhaps that is because I WAS rescued and when I was young; not by a flesh and blood person, but by God.  Does it make sense that I feel as His protection and strength that sustained through the worst things has left me feeling less whole?

That can’t be true… so, if that’s not true, then perhaps it was not wholly His strength that carried me through. Perhaps there is a large part of me that is completely dissociated from my personal history. Perhaps because most of it was not my fault, that there was nothing I could do to stop it, escape it or change it I cannot fully accept it. That should be a good thing too.  At least I recognize the truth of the matter, but….

I made some pretty stupid mistakes too. Those things I am responsible for. Some, when I was a child done out of ignorance and a cry for help, some as an adult done out of a desperate need to feel. To be loved. To be wanted…

I feel lost within myself. I love the TV shows, movies and books where someone comes in and saves the day. Where the police catch the bad guy, where the stranger sweeps in and rescues the hurting person – be they child, woman or man, where good triumphs over evil. That’s not a bad thing.

I find it hard to believe that someone will want me for me. That I can or will be loved because I exist, because I am enough. Too many have rejected me, too many who were supposed to, or promised to have caused the most damage to me.

I am strong. I don’t NEED to be a part of a couple to be whole, I acknowledge that, but I yearn for it. Just because it is necessary doesn’t mean it isn’t greatly desired. I believe it is part of our make-up, part of our humanness to want to share life with someone else, to not be alone. In the beginning God said “It is not good that man should be alone” and made him a wife, a helpmeet. I want to be a help meet. I want to be a part of something bigger than me.

I waffle between feeling like a giant, something so big it’s untouchable and feeling like a tiny grain of sand, beneath notice and walked on. Both leave me feeling lonely, unnoticed and unwanted.

Where do I go from here? How do I learn to be satisfied with what I do not have, what I (seemly) cannot have? I love my life. I love what I have, but I’m starting to desire more…. How do I balance contentment with that desire? How do I push to have the “more” in my life without losing the appreciation for what I already have? How do I fit more in my life?

Lots of questions today. Very few answers. I do know that I’m going to keep dancing, keep singing and keep searching. Life’s a dance, we learn as we go. (Garth Brooks)