So blessed, I couldn’t take it
So much I gotta give it away
Your love has taught me to live now
Your love is more than enough for me

Beautiful beautiful lyrics. I’ve always loved this song. Thought came up in church today. We weren’t singing it, but I was singing it in my mind. And singing always makes me feel so much better.

Okay. So, tonight at church, we read I Peter 3. The part about the man and the woman and all. And the main point that the pastor was making (well, in that section of the sermon. If sermon is the right word since we were exactly sixteen people and we were sitting in the conference room ) set me thinking. I mean, you don’t just get married to someone because you’re bored or for the sake of doing so. It’s a really serious thing. Especially (if not more) so for the woman. And me, being quite liberalistic, had better think about this. (I repeat) It is a really serious thing. You are doing it because you trust and care for the guy. Incredibly much. And you have to trust this guy so much… you are giving him everything and you are willing to give everything. You have to stop living off two-minute noodles and toast and learn to cook (argh). You have to respect him and what he wants you to do (because he is the master of the house after all. He must respect you as much as you respect him, but he is still the head of the household, you know. And ‘you’ refers to all you non-existent readers). You’ll spend the rest of your life with him, all the parts that makes him incredible as well as the things he might do like leaving the toothpaste open . It’s not something you just do. You give him your all (physically, emotionally, mentally). You make yourself so incredibly vulnerable, so incredibly unsafe and away from anything that protects you. You give him your body, mind, thoughts, dreams, fears, feelings; your life. You are giving him your life to do with as he pleases. Because you love and trust him.
And, as I mentioned, I am a very liberalistic and, at times, feministic person, but somehow, I don’t mind the thought of doing this. I always guessed that I’d marry someone and eventually do all of this stuff, but I tended to skip the thought of this part as far as possible. I tend to scorn the idea of fitting ‘the mold’ and being a good, quiet wife and all. But, right now, I don’t mind this thought. It used to irritate me endlessly when guys referred to woman as ‘theirs.’ But I don’t mind being his. I want to be his.
Yes, this is a weird topic. Especially for a teenager to be thinking. But all you non-existing, regular readers know that I don’t just jump into things, I think about them very seriously in advance and question and analyze everything I do. Everything. But, I was thinking about this last night. And we kinda got on the topic today (me and him sort of). And then church. So that’s why I’m blogging my thoughts.
I’m afraid that I’m still not willing to stay at home barefoot, cook and clean all day, etc. That is not me and I would slowly be killing myself that way. But I will make sacrafices, I will learn to cook, I will change and adapt to what he wants (to a reasonable extent, certainly. I am a practical person and I’m not about to get into/do anything stupid. I’m not here  for anyone to step on me (but he wouldn’t do that ) but I am here to love and be loved. And I love him so much. And I trust him. To take care of me, not to take advantage of how incredibly vulnerable I’ll be making myself and to love me).
Doing what we plan on doing is so incredibly dangerous to me. Makes me so incredibly vulnerable. So incredibly hurtable. But I want to. Because I love him.

I got some inspiration for a poem today. Well, inspiration for one and motivation for another that I’ve been meaning to write for some time now.

Today at church, we went and did our little drama at some or other mall. And, before we went, the congregation prayed for us. And they anointed us. Which was really cool. I don’t recall being anointed before (probably have, but can’t remember). And, weirdly enough, as I was just finishing off, this one man (really sweet guy. He plays drums and whenever the rest of the band is somewhere, he asks me to play keyboard with him so we don’t sing off a cd for praise and worship. I haven’t had the courage to accept though. Not yet) leaned closer to me and whispered randomly “Salwing verbreek alle jeukke.” Which, roughly translated, means that anointing breaks all yokes. Which is just seriously cool, because I’ve been needing that lately. Completely randomly. God works so spontaneously
Now, in this drama, I (the messed up, crazy, depressive, faker) play Jesus. And I’ve been wondering for quite a while now how they would react if they knew half my thoughts. I sometimes hated practice because I felt so fake… they picked me for the role because I’m so quiet and because they see me to be so filled with the love of God. I really don’t feel like that most of the time though. I don’t know why people at church respect my opinions and think that I am wise and know the Lord so well, because I really don’t feel like I do. I try, I mess up and start over again. Try, fall, get up. Try, fall, get up. I don’t know. I know that He is so incredibly real, whether you feel like it or not. I know from bitter experience that you’re not alone, that He’s always there and will never leave you in the fire for too long. But I still mess up so incredibly much.
But anyway… today when I was acting though, it felt like all that didn’t matter (I felt like a hypocrite all through praise and worship. There I was, enjoying God while I had been wanting to cut myself a couple of days back. So incredibly ashamed. And kept wondering what that lady thought. Until I told myself to leave them all alone and just be with God. That worked mostly). I got onto stage and was more real up there than I ever am normally. Apparently I made people cry, because I looked so loving. And, you know… up there I was loving. I could love. I could feel (something good) and I could just radiate love. Somehow, I wonder whether God’s purpose for the play was really for the people who watched or whether it was more for me. Both probably. But, it’s like… like no matter what I did, it doesn’t matter. Because I’m forgiven. Now I just need to forgive myself and get it together again. So here goes:
I forgive myself. For all the stupid things I’ve done, for getting upset, for losing control, for wanting to cut myself, for wanting to give up, for wanting to burn and hurt myself. For enjoying getting hurt, for letting myself get into this mess in the first place. For blocking my emotions and making myself numb, for making wrong decisions. For not being able to think, for not always doing my best, for being tired. For feeling like I’m talking to empty echoes and blank walls. For faking half of my life, for lying to myself for years. For crying myself to sleep, for torturing myself with my own thoughts. For letting myself be a victim (while hating being a victim. I’m impossible to understand). For nearly giving up. For nearly breaking down. For coming this close to not making it. For not being strong, for doing stupid things, for not being able to look at my arms and for feeling like I should be hiding scars that aren’t there. I’m sorry. And now I forgive myself. And I’ma be okay.
And, of course, the love of my life helped so much. He’s always sorting me out and explaining me to myself. And telling me that I’m going to be okay and that I am okay. And making sense of all my nonsense. He’s probably the one that started this whole post.. or the idea of it. And woke me up again. And you know… I don’t know how I’d live without him. I know that I’d live, but I know that I wouldn’t be alive without him. I need him so much. And I love him. And it’s just totally amazing that I can say that I love someone without second-guessing myself. And that is also thanks to him….
I’m so sorry. That this is all I have to give him. All I have to give him is me. All my flaws and faults and fears.  I’m so sorry that he’s always having to go through trouble for me. Climbing my walls, sorting out my life, trying to rub some feeling back into me. Pulling me out of my slumps and emotionlessness.
And all I have to give him is myself. Even if I give him my everything, it’s still just me. I’m so sorry.

I dont even know whether or not to publish this post. This is so incredibly personal (yes, incredibly is my word for the day)…. Maybe I should cut some bits… on the other hand, no-one reads this so whatever.

~ by cravingoxygen on November 16, 2008.