Zmobeis.

Kinda like zombies... but scrambled.

I'm not depressed, as in walking through darkness. I'm depressed, as in a depression in the ground. Like, below the normal level of functionality. It's really interesting being here and knowing it and accepting it, because most of my life I've been totally out of touch with myself-with my body, my emotions, my thoughts... everything. I've lived a very reactionary life. No understanding of the causes or roots of things. For instance, being sick. I never realized I was sick until I couldn't crawl out of bed, or until I lost my voice, or until I was burning with fever. Now? Now I can feel sickness encroaching, and I know more of how to keep it at bay.

Anyway, now I'm "depressed", and I can recognize it as the result of a.) battling an illness and b.) a heightened state of emotions (occurring concurrently). It's a letdown, that's all. It'll be over soon, and I'll be back to my old self.

I just thought it was neat that I am able to find the cause of my depletion of motivation. That's a new thing for me.

Another shocking realization on the way to work yesterday...

First, background. I've prayed that God would heal me from my relationship with C. It still haunts me, and I can't seem to shake it. But I realized that I have never actually asked God to heal from this specific thing... I've never "given him permission" to touch that aspect of my life. I've prayed for general healing, but anyway, I just thought that I needed to talk to him about that specific thing. So far, so good.

Well, that was rolling around in my head on the way to work, and I was just thinking about how people operate out of their brokenness, and hurt other people... and I remembered an instance when C shared the source of his pain with me, but I was too immature to do anything with it.

It was one of the times we had broken up, and he drove me out to the Territorial Prison (it's not a prison anymore, it's a state park) where we talked and cried until our tears lost their saltiness. (For a time reference, we broke up several times after I went canvassing, but then a year later we moved in together... where we broke up again, then got back together... then I left for good and went to SOULS.) The reason I broke up with him was because it was hard for me to live life the way I thought I should when the person nearest and dearest to my heart held a different set of morals and convictions, and was really, really good at talking me out of mine.

We were sitting at a picnic table in the dark, he on one side and I on the other. The tears still coursed down our faces, but by now they had lost their intensity. C explained to me an incident in childhood when, because of church, he was cut off from all his friends and not allowed to play with them anymore. It seemed.. almost insignificant to me at the time. I didn't understand what he was trying to communicate. All I knew was that he wouldn't listen to me when I said I didn't want to sleep together anymore, and that he didn't want to go to church with me. But as I thought about that incident on the way to work, I realize that he was sharing his pain with me. Even if I had recognized it for what it was, I would have had no idea of what to do with it.

As I look back, I see how shallow that relationship was, because I myself was shallow. I lacked depth, because I could not really let anyone into my heart. I wouldn't even look there myself, so how could I let anyone else in? I think I loved C more deeply than I had ever loved anyone else before, perhaps with the exception of my mom and my grampa and gramma, but romantic relationships are a whole different ball of wax. But I was still incapable of dealing with his pain, or understanding that conversation for what it really was. (Interestingly enough, now that I am finding depth and healing, I think the platonic relationships and friendships that I have now are a more intense love experience than even my relationship with C.)

C saw God as someone who cuts off and isolates. As I talk with his mom and realize what kind of home he grew up in (very abusive, but more of a subtle type, with outbursts of physical violence), I also realize that his friends were his release, his safety net. When he was cut off from that in the name of religion (thus plunging him back into the home world with no escape except church), he grew bitter and rebelled. And I don't blame him. It's no wonder he doesn't like God. He thinks he's like his dad! Arbitrary, isolating, demanding, brooding, inflexible, dictatorial... But, oh C... if you could only know that he is so, so different...

And I can't imagine that I gave him any different impression... because that was who I thought God was, too. So I served him, and C didn't, and neither of us could understand why the other one was doing what they were... And I can understand why C resisted my talk about God, because all I knew was the forms. I didn't know God heart to heart. All I knew was outward compliance. (Especially after canvassing.)

I'm thinking about writing him a letter apologizing for my selfishness when we were together. I was operating out of my brokenness, too... but I think he deserves an apology. I have no idea how I messed him up (and I don't think he does either, since he's not given to much introspection), but I do know that I caused him much pain, and that's not cool.