I feel hopeless. I feel like the world is closing in on me and I can’t breathe. I’m afraid God is never going to give me what I want. I’m afraid of being alone forever. I’m afraid no one will love me the way so many women seem to be loved. Adored. Cherished. Loved and not just lusted after. Loved truly and deeply and wholly. Loved unconditionally. Loved and built up. Encouraged, enjoyed, delighted in.I have a deep fear of being unlovable. Of not being chosen. I want to be everyone’s cup of tea, even though I know many people prefer coffee. I want them to choose tea because I believe the lie that it might make me feel better about myself. I can’t morph into coffee and I stopped trying to do that years ago. It’s excruciating to imagine that maybe I’m no one’s “the one” and that maybe I’ll be alone forever. I have an inkling that God wants me to accept that maybe that is true, maybe I can be ok being alone, and that the moment I do, my soulmate will arrive, right on time to sweep me off my feet and give me the fairytale love story I’ve only ever dreamt of and hope with every bone in my body will manifest. I’m not sure the God I believe in plays games like that. I’m not sure he’s waiting for me to say/do/be the right thing before he gives me the deep longings of my heart. I think maybe he put them there. I want to be a wife. I want to be a mom. I want to be a really good wife and a really good mom, but most of all I want to be real and I want to be present. I want to find what energizes my husband and I want to be the thing he can’t wait to come home to. I want to adventure together with youthful wonder. I want to help my children discover what they were put on this planet to do and help them do it with a smile and a servant’s heart. I want to pay attention to strangers and grow and travel and explore and impact the world. I want to be one of those people who really cares. I want to anticipate the needs of the silently broken and offer them hope. I want to be who I know in my heart I was meant to be. I’m not giving up on her. I’m not giving up on me. I’m not giving up on my story.
This is a journal entry I wrote in the wake of my recent breakup and I felt like sharing it in case I’m not alone. This is part of my love story. It’s my love story in a valley, in a desert. Our love stories don’t just start once prince charming rides in with trumpets blaring, but in those moments when our hearts long to give and receive love, long to find peace in the loneliness, and long to feel connected to someone, somewhere. The craziest thought is that there is a man out there who might be feeling the same thing as me, and we might cross paths one day and when we meet, realize we are who the other has been waiting for.
I think the reason I’m sharing this fear/dream is that if I share it, the fear loses power and the dream’s seed is planted. Maybe you feel a lot how I feel. Maybe we’re both not alone and maybe we’ll both get our happy ending.