Healing From the Ceiling

The other night I wrote about how God turned from me when I needed him, and how I realized I was essentially talking to the ceiling. Last night, the ceiling–in the metaphorical sense; I am not hearing voices–talked to me. It’s funny how God has delayed reactions, isn’t it? Maybe heaven and earth are so far removed from each other that messages get caught in the void for a little bit.

Last night, right before bed, I had a conversation with an estranged friend. It would not be appropriate for me to go into details, but I can say that it poked something deep inside me. For the past few months, I’ve been distressed over some personal matters, and it has been painful for me to reflect on happy memories from a particular good time in my life. After the conversation, I closed my eyes. Something told me, go back to those memories and feel them. All of them. I didn’t fight it. I gathered all the sweet memories I’ve been repressing and let them all flood into my consciousness. For a straight five minutes, I cried so hard I could barely breathe.

Eventually the emotions subsided. I felt more purely free than I had in months. There was a new voice in my mind, and it was wise and comforting. I had a conversation with it. To an outsider, it would’ve looked like I was talking to myself, but I think that the voice–God–was using my voice as his. Honestly, I can’t even describe it, but the words that voice was telling me were far more mature than what I would always come up with my own mind.

After some time of talking with God, I am fully confident that I am called to be alone right now. This doesn’t mean that I’m going to cut myself off from people and become a hermit. I am talking about aloneness in terms of intimacy. My life has been lacking closeness lately. I don’t have a “group” or a “person,” and it’s been excruciating to see everybody else have one. God has told me that it needs to be this way for a time.

For the past few years, I’ve been hyper-focused on my relationships with others. My happiness, my lifeblood, my identity–every bit of it depended on my friendships. If a friend was upset, it would ruin my week. If I was happy, it was surely because I’d had a good time with friends. I only felt validated in the presence of other people. If anything went wrong in my interpersonal relationships, I would freak out and become desperate. It got to the point where if a friend was upset with me, I would cruelly punish myself. I could not assert myself in personal relationships at all; I constantly blamed myself. I had no idea who I was besides what others said about me. Honestly, it was extremely unhealthy.

I don’t need to hear, “Join clubs and find people who share your interests!” or “Try to spend more time with people so you can get closer!” No. I need to heal. I need to find out who I am and learn how to make myself happy rather than depending on others. I need to work on the abandonment and attachment issues that have sabotaged my life. Until I’ve figured myself out, getting into other close relationships will only be a repeat of the same old patterns.

Again, I’m not going to hide from the world. I’ll still be my same old sociable self, and I’ll still hang out with people every now and then. But I won’t chase closeness or try to find a “place.” I’m not in a position to be close with people right now. I need to finally, finally get close to myself and to God. It won’t be an easy feat for an affectionate, fun-loving extrovert like myself. But it will be done. In time, I’ll become so comfortable with my own company that I won’t need others so much. God will sustain me, and I’ll never go hungry with him. Yes, I’m hopeful that one day soon I’ll be at a point where I can maintain healthy friendships, but today isn’t that day. I need to be alone right now–and not so I can strive to be a better friend, because that would defeat the purpose of this healing. I’m trying to learn how to not center my entire life on others, how not to be obsessed with becoming a better friend. My end goal is to end this constant dependency and learn how to rely on God and myself for satisfaction.

I’m not scared anymore. In fact, I might even be a little bit excited. It’s going to be interesting, painful, and of course, lonely. But I have never been so confident in my life that I’m going to be fully healed soon…

Because God turns lonely into lovely. 

 

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