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I had one of those weeks… where you’re just angry… and it’s so frustrating.

I think a lot of it is that my folks have been gone on vacation, and I’ve had to do all those extra things that they normally do.  The biggest time sucker being that my sister doesn’t clean up after herself.  So I get home and there is a sink full of dishes.  And I wake up and there are more dishes.  And it’s not my mess.  She doesn’t contribute.  These are things that make me feel utter fear at the idea of ever being married.  Because thinking of the stereotypical guy, combined with societal gender expectations, who do you think the cleaning would fall to, regardless of work situations?  Me, the woman.  Screw that.

Anyway, it made me irrationally angry at times.  Or I’m just angry.  I’m not sure.  I think I broke one of our vacuums last night (unintentionally).  I’m not sure if it’s all the way broken or it just needs a little TLC.  But I was in no mood for it.

And the cats have ripped three holes in the bottom of my box springs and have enjoyed frolicking inside it.  Last night a friend suggested pinning a sheet on the bottom of it, so I am trying that, and I hope it is successful.  It’s so irritating that they’re ruining my stuff.  And in particular, I’m fairly certain it was my sister’s cat who created the holes, not that my cats aren’t above enjoying the destruction.  Damn cats.

And I’m lonely.  So entirely lonely.  I’m lucky if I manage to see or talk to one friend a week, and have often gone much longer than that without any significant interactions with friends.  And it is not for lack of trying on my part.  Although, I have recently decided that I’m done trying.  I’m not going to reach out to friends anymore–none of them–and maybe then I’ll feel better about being rejected.  Because I won’t be being actively rejected, just passively.  Which is always better, right?

God.  I just need to move and start over in a new area.  New friends.  New life.  New routines.  New, new, new!

I was thinking I’d try to go to church when I move.  Because I was feeling friendlier to communal faith again, but now I’m just not sure.  Maybe I should just give up and accept my fate as a lapsed Christian who lives a private faith.  I can get into heaven by the skin of my teeth, to quote whatever verse that is from whatever gospel it’s from.  If heaven even exists.  (That’s not anger speaking, that’s a true doubt.)

And my ex-work-crush (henceforth called “J”) is one of the kindest and caring guys I have met in a long time.  And I can’t help but think that if I had a good network of friends still, that I wouldn’t be so attracted to him.  Because I think one of the most attractive things about him is that he is kind and pays attention and enjoys my company.

So life is basically just discouraging at the moment, although I still have hope for the future.  if I can just find an apartment in a kind of bad part of town (i.e. where I can afford to live), then I’m set.  I just fear finding a place in my price range.

Damn you married folk who have two incomes. The only benefits I see to marriage are pragmatic.  Because I think I actually believe that the majority of people get married not because they don’t want to live without the specific person they married, but because they wanted to be married.  So they settled and compromised and got married to a person.  Not to any great love of their life, but to a warm body, essentially.

Perhaps I am just jaded.  J seems to think so.  But he has hope that eventually I’ll get better.


I am angry.

I am angry at the ever present, ever influential, ever toxic he that infiltrates my life and thoughts despite a lack of permission.

This he is not just one, but all.  All who have ever taken advantage of me, who have abused me, who have betrayed, injured, not cared for me.

The he who molested me when I was 3.  Everyone who knew but did nothing.

The he‘s of high school and college who said/did/attempted unwanted things and got away with it.

The he who was a trusted mentor, who betrayed me from the first, yet tricked me into trust until years later when he (a married Bible teacher with a child, whom I viewed with complete naivety and completely platonic) propositioned me, and yet still got away with it even though I did everything right, through all the right channels.

Every he who has not protected me but has either hurt me himself or watched as others did.

I have physical memories that I do not consciously remember but which prevent me from physical intimacy.  Worse, I have spiritual betrayal that has destroyed my trust in men, in Christian men in particular.  Betrayal that has left me bereft and empty.  Betrayal that still makes it hard to pray, read my Bible, desire to grow in faith.  I feel distant from God, but it is not God who is distant.  It is my own inability to allow Him to be close.

And I am angry about it.


In many ways, I am better than I was.  I’ve found a new church and have gone three times.  And you know what made me go back after the first time?  The week before, one of their pastors was arrested in a police sting as he attempted to solicit an underage prostitute.  This is not good, obviously.  I did not know about it, but when I showed up, the service was the main pastor talking about it: how you had to be in the middle of truth (stone him, the heinous man) and grace (forgive it all).  How the Church is made up of sinners, each of us is capable of doing awful things, but none of us wake up one morning and decide to do those things out of the blue.  We take small steps of compromise, and instead need to ensure we are walking in the Light of Christ, in the fellowship of other Believers, being open and accountable to each other.

This pastor handled it exactly as it should be: honestly, openly, truthfully.  He did not hide it or minimize.

And so I went back.  I sit by myself (surrounded by strangers).  Sometimes I sing, but mostly I just listen.  I leave as soon as service is over.  But I’m there.  I view every man in the congregation as suspect.  But I am there.

It is a step, perhaps small to you, but huge to me.

I want to be well again.  I want to believe I might be able to trust again someday.  I want to know I can approach God with an open heart.

I don’t want to be angry.

But I am.