English: The Arcadian or Pastoral State, second painting in The Course of Empire, by Thomas Cole (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Counseling was supposed to help me find my voice, but it didn’t;  at least not in the way that writing has.  I have a difficult time sitting in front of someone and talking about myself;  the whole setup is fraught with anxiety and performance-driven psycho-babble.  Over coffee with a close friend?  Yes, maybe.  And sometimes a good session is like that, and I leave feeling lighter, and hopeful.  Other times, interventions feel more like accusations, and I feel trapped, and say anything just to get the session over with so I can get out of there fast.  It shouldn’t be that way, but that’s just how I’m wired.

God doesn’t always redeem our circumstances, but he uses them to redeem us.  He can’t make the other person be willing to forgive, and restore a broken relationship.  He sends a Redeemer;  someone who can advocate for us, and plead our case.

Common sense and loving-kindness both require dealing with issues and facing the risk of a broken relationship.  Speaking up can be terrifying, and the consequences can be devastating.  Writing is so much easier.  Being a very passive person, I prefer avoidance, but maturity requires otherwise.  Communication is difficult;  it’s time-consuming, and often frustrating.

I don’t handle confrontation well.  Counseling was supposed to help me learn to be more assertive;  less timid, less afraid. My counselor assured me over and over again that I would become stronger, and not so insecure.  That I would learn how to handle situations that seem out of control, and terrifying.  I’m still waiting.

Someone told me once that I seem to have “an awful lot of angry people in my life.”  I didn’t know what to say.  He was right.

I miss my old friends.  I’m not good at phone calls, or actually getting together with people.  I am in my head, just not in reality.  I tend to seek out a safe person, and hide behind them.  I don’t mean to do it, I just can’t seem to help doing it.  Those who aren’t bewildered by it are irritated by it.  I’ve heard everything from “What the hell is wrong with you?”  to “Who do you think you are, one of us?”  Neither of which is helpful, and ultimately makes the problem worse, not better.  My counselor got tired of having to “prove herself” and that relationship also ended in an angry outburst, and hurt feelings and broken fellowship.  So much for that.  Can God redeem me?  Yes, of course.  Can the past be healed and restored?  I don’t know.  I only know that He who has promised is faithful.   And so I wait.  Worship and wait.

Be blessed, people.