Some Kind of Fear

I am not sure when it began, but at some point in my past I began to fear being clingy. It may have started when I was in high school and saw how emotional and illogical I was. With all the mistakes I made, with the high standard others held me to, and with the scars and shortcomings I saw so plainly, I developed this fear of being one of those people who unload all of their crap on others and walk off with a grin because (temporarily) their shoulders are lighter. There is a time to unload and a time to give the sparks notes version and, finally, a time to keep quiet. I have always preferred the quiet approach or sparks notes…

Apparently I have a problem with talking about my problems. I have noticed this lately; my tendency to always present things in a way that makes it seem as if, as bad as things may feel or be, because I am a Christian, I must have a great attitude about it. This weekend I went on a retreat with my small group from church. The night after the first service we talked about what most stuck out to us most during the sermon/talk. As everyone was going around, I felt this anger just swell up inside of me, and it scared me. Being emotional is one thing; being emotional and feeling like you have to keep it all in is… frightening.

"What about you, Alex, what did you get out of service?" I was honest. After the three hour session, what hit me the most was the brief discussion that was had concerning anger. I had realized that I was angry because I have come to believe the lie the enemy was telling me that I had to be there for everyone but no one would be there for me. That was not true at all; I could think of two wonderful people who I talk to about the majority of what goes on in my life. I told my small group about one in particular.

"But do you tell them everything?" Of course not! Why would I tell anyone everything!?

"Well, everyone needs someone they can tell everything to, who they can go to and just unload." Yeah, duh! His name is Jesus. Heard of Him? Well, I didn't say that because I knew they weren't going to take that. Everyone seemed surprised that I did not have that one person whom I could go to to tell everything to. Seriously, what human being can anyone go to to tell everything to? So I was honest.

"I don't want to be clingy." You should have seen the looks of incredulous disbelief at my reason for why I choose not to divulge my life story to anyone in particular. Seriously.

"Alexandria, you are the farthest thing from clingy." I can't tell you how many times I heard this that night. It made me feel very good about myself. It also made me realize that in my attempts to not be clingy, I inadvertently made myself kept more than I should.  But I tell so and so this and I talk to so and so quite often, I tell myself and God. And I do. But to tell everything I feel, everything I go through to a human being? Um… what? If I did that to a human being, they would run away in horror. They can go to bed that night and realize that I am too much for them to handle. Yeah, I don't think so. What human being can handle all of me?

What took me by surprise was that this was not just the high school girls who were voicing their concern at my confession. There were also my college friends and 40 year old small group leaders. One in particular voiced a realization she had just had in the midst of our talking/my therapy session.

"I'd always admired your ability to talk to God so honestly. You would argue with Him and just be real and now I know why." At this point, I had no idea what this had to do with my telling my life story to another human being and then continuing to let them in on my mess as time wore on. "You know that He will never leave you." Ah… connection made.

And that was exactly right. Of course I can argue with, wrestle with, yell at, curse at (not curse, but curse at, like, "Heck no I'm not going through this cow poop") God; He's God. He is Love, He is perfect, and He is strong enough to handle my cow poop. But what human being is able to handle it? What human being would willingly handle my story, and then stick around to find out what else life has for me as the years go by?

I am so scared. Not because my small group said I need to have someone to talk to and be honest with or because I am considering the fact that they might be right. No, I'm scared because while all this conversation was going on, God was speaking. And I was not comfortable with what He is saying.

I have spent the last… let's see, how old was I in Kindergarten? I have spent the last 16 years wanting a guy to notice me. Yeah, I started young. Ever since prit and prat walked around the kindergarten classroom with hunky boy in between them and prit told me that I liked him but let me know that I was wasting my little emotions on someone who could never like me back… I have been longing to be liked back. In fact, it has probably only been in the last two or three weeks that I have had a stable desire to not date for such an extended period of time. Not because I have given up on hope but because I have found a much greater, stronger, and more stable Love than the kind I had been seeking since I was 5. However, if this is true, why do I not just trust this greater, stronger, and more stable Love when He tells me He has someone for me? Honestly, because the possibility of that coming true does not look too good. I am not saying that the second God brings this person in my life that they will hear my life story from conception til the now. However, I am not sure I can wrap my mind around how this person can handle me on the whole… I am not sure I can even handle myself.

I've spent a good portion of my life afraid of being too much, and have succeeded in not being so (most of the time). Oh, I know when I've made someone tired; I've seen the look in a family member’s eyes as I have let go of my burden with them and watched them feel the weight. I have called my dear Grandma two days in a row and promised myself the third day I would not burden her with my mess until I got a handle on things. And I have had others lay their burdens on my shoulders without caring how their weight has greatly increased my own. I just don't want to be a burden. I don't want to be a weight. I don't want to be left alone.

But you know what? If I'm going to survive, I'm going to have to be vulnerable. Whenever God brings that person into my life, I am going to have to be a weight, a bother, a me. And, in turn, I pray that they are that to me. But, even more, I pray that, after we unload, we turn to our Heavenly Father, our great, strong, and stable Lover of our Souls. And I pray that, everyday of our lives, from now until forever, we grow deeper and more grounded in His great, inexhaustible Love for us. Hallelujah.