Photo Credit: Denise Valle
I've just rediscovered the trigger on the gun.
Nothing new, but something quite familiar.
Social media.
We joke about how consumed our lives are with it, but today, I set myself up. It was dumb, really.
I called myself a martyr of some sort before I did it. I needed to face my fear.
So I walked up to my proverbial cliff. And I jumped.
But the water wasn't as deep as I thought it was. And I was knocked a bit unconscious. I know. Unfortunate.
Let me give you a bit of backstory.
So back in late November 2012, early December I was beginning to process my 2012. The highs, the lows, the mediocrity. And I couldn't shake this overwhelming fog. Things were not as clear as I knew they could be and should be. How did 2012 get so weird?
How did I miss it? Yes, romance was big on my heart. At the tip top of the year, I had met someone who I thought was as close to husband material as I'd ever met. We're talking a 9.99999 on all scales. Faith, Looks, Intelligence, & Humor. I was in utter shock that someone on the planet existed like this person. And our paths had crossed. Surely, that alone was confirmation that he and I were meant to be together.
And then, on my birthday, I discovered he had chosen another over me.
A pattern I know all to well.
Needless to say, I spent half of my birthday crying like a baby. Asking God, the tried and true, "Whyyyy? But Whyyy? And how could this happen again??"
What was I doing wrong?
The culprit of my discovery, which is quite important, given the subject matter of this post, was none other than Instagram. Yeah. I said it.
Attention:
Nothing you post on the Internet and social media is ever truly private.
Guys: We as ladies, basically use social media as a means to background check your butts, and to constantly gage the temperature of our relationship/friendships with you. I know. It's a bit sad. Like you need another hurdle to get over, in the ever expansive landscape of female behavior. But sometimes you don't communicate with us, so we're forced to do some digging around to see how you're really doing.
Yes. This is quite shameful. And yet a hard habit for us ladies to break.
Can I digress for a moment.
I'm having trust issues.
It's dawned on me that people are not always as trustworthy as their smile would make them appear to be.
You didn't have time to message me back, you've been so so busy you tell me, yet Facebook and Instagram are telling me that you just liked 5 of "Carla's" pictures and had time to leave a comment on her Facebook page and Instagram picture in the last 30 seconds.
Well, guess what that tells me.
I just got played. Or worse. Forgotten about.
Rejection is never pretty--subtle or blatant, but it's uglier when drawn out.
You could have just been honest with me in the beginning. But now, I feel doubly worse. And this stirs up my trust issues. You must be a sweet talker. "Also known as a liar," quotes my heart. And now we're at ground zero.
It's true, our secrets eventually get exposed, it's just a matter of time.
Why do people still think that they'll never get found out? I always find this astounding. I mean, is your ego so solid that you think you'll never trip up and make a mistake? Mmmmk.
It was ingrained in me at an early age that "God sees everything, everywhere, all the time. Plus, I had intense family members who worked for the government reassuring me that nothing of our lives was really ever private in this country. Talk to me about some conspiracy theories. I got you.
So, growing up, I suspected my whole life would be on display somehow, it was just a matter of time. Therefore, it would be most beneficial for me to be honest in the dark and in the light.
Granted I didn't really catch this revelation until about 19. But at least I caught it. Ha.
So the above section basically sums up the cycle of my 2012. A deep seated feeling of rejection and feeling as though I had missed the mark somehow. I had let my heart down.
And then it became 2013.
And 2013 becomes my year of Singleness. Because somehow along the way in 2012, I've picked up fog. I'm not talking cute fog, I'm talking that dense fog that makes your heartbeat get a little funny when you're driving through it, only able to see 11 inches in front of your vehicle.
Consequently, by the end of 2012, the dreams of my heart were so shattered regarding career, ministry, and romance, like glass spewn in front of my feet, I didn't know which piece belonged with what piece.
So I needed to take myself out of this mind game. I had to. If anything different was ever going to happen...
And so I held my breath. And I told my heart that I would not give it the very thing that it has been craving for oh-so-long.
And I took my heart out of my hands, and told it, "Everything is going to be okay. I promise. I promise."
I slipped my heart nervously back in the Hands that seem to hold so many other things with such care, love, and grace.
But somehow it wasn't all settled for me.
Yes. I'm single and will remain single all of 2013 on purpose...and perhaps indefinitely, but--
What gets tricky is when you find yourself still loving someone despite their untrustworthy nature and the rejection experienced at their hand.
And this is when I decided to jump off my cliff.
But how will I do that?
Duh.
Instagram.
Sometimes, just sometimes-- when you want to find something, you actually do. These are the moments that I don't really want what I think I want, but I act like I do. I soldier on, with my gun by my side and my hand on the trigger.
Literally. No joke, it took less than 5 seconds to find the incriminating evidence that I needed to make me cry. Thank you, Instagram "Following" button, a.k.a. Possibly the Devil.
But I kept telling myself this was all necessary, face the cold hard facts, so that he'll be dead to you. Completely.
But the only person that felt dead was me. Concussions have a tendency to do that.
I look around. I'm not dead. That's a good sign.
To be continued...
Wisdom's Knocking:
"New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings..."
-Lao Tzu
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