Sunday Morning Coming Down

Do you know that Johnny Cash Song?

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,

I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.

'Cause there's something in a Sunday

That makes a body feel alone.

And there's nothing short a' dying

That's half as lonesome as the sound

Of the sleeping city sidewalk

And Sunday morning coming down.

A couple Sundays ago that’s how I felt. Lonesome. Spent. Alone.

I had spent the better part of Saturday afternoon and evening self-medicating.

Despite the cancellation of a joint bachelor/bachelorette party, we awkwardly invited all our friends out to party with us instead. Or perhaps to witness the downward spiral as we laughed and drank and talked and hung out like nothing had changed.  

My old coping mechanisms don’t work anymore.

I woke Sunday morning with a headache that can only be cured with sleep and more sleep. I woke to an upset tummy and a heavy, burdensome heart. It’s funny how the things that you think will make you feel better just end up a temporary fix for a remaining affliction.

I slept intermittently. Getting up once for a painful trip to the grocery store and then only to use the bathroom, get more water and eventually eat my first meal around 3 PM. I had felt better after sleeping till almost 1 PM, but then the weight of recent events kept me stationary. Almost immobile in my grief and anger. I kept trying to sleep more. Forget. Probably in hopes that I would wake up in a different circumstance. To a different life.

Instead, I got up. Showered. Watched some TV and let my mind wander. I went over and over our conversations in my head. Trying to pinpoint where I failed to notice he was no longer next to me.

After a strange conversation Wednesday evening in the town we got engaged in, I had been restless nagging feeling that something just wasn't right. Thursday night he told me he didn't want to get married in November. Or move in together. He’s just not ready.

It was a shock.

I was hurt, angry and confused.

I was up down and all over all weekend. 

I wasn't entirely sure what or how to feel about it.

I still am these things sometimes. 

Sometimes it feels like I have to separate my feelings from my body. Let them float outside of me in order to view the situation subjectively. My heart attached by a string.

We are still in this. Together. Bumbling through feelings and hurts and questions. Staying close. Trying to get back to a place of normal.

Everything has changed and nothing has changed.

I feel the tug. I feel the itch to run. To pack it up, settle my affairs, get my journals and my dog and get in the car and just drive. Start anew somewhere else. Be a new version of me. Reinvent myself once again.

But this time? I know that’s not the answer. I don’t need to reinvent me anymore.

I’m already the me I want to be. 

Right here.

I had two different friends say to me, Have you ever heard that saying ‘Man plans and God laughs’? How true this is for me. I constantly strive. I like knowing where my life is headed and I try very hard to control my path sometimes.

But things don’t always work out the way you plan.

And it can really suck.

I try to ignore that familiar ache to get away- the temptation to just quit being a much easier option it seems. 

But I won’t run away this time.

I’m staying. Digging deep. Listening and empathizing beyond my normal capability. Trying really hard not to blame and be angry. Forgiving.

To me, to love is to love without condition.

I know it deep in my bones that I’m not supposed to flee.

I’m supposed to hunker down and do the hard things.

For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

Isaiah 55:9

I’m learning that despite my best efforts, life is more cyclical than linear. Despite the frustration of seemingly reliving similar disappointments, I’m not giving up hope.

I’m putting my hope in Jesus. 

He alone knows what is in store for me, for T, and for us.

I’m holding fast to the comfort I have come to know so well through prayer and Jesus.

I’m holding fast to friends and family, our community, to support and surround us.

I’m holding fast to the love I have for a man who loves me and just may need a little time.

I’m holding fast to love.

Dear Readers, THANK YOU for being supportive and reaching out when you figured out or inferred via social media that something was up. We appreciate all the heartfelt comments, prayer and support. Sometimes life is messy and we just have to admit it you know? Maybe it's weird to share this much on the blog but I don't know how else to be but to just be real. :)

And to Emily- thank you for sharing your courage in the face of adversity and inspiring me to do the same.