Rambling silence

There's a one-panel cartoon about introverts that shows a stick figure with bulging eyes stating, "I'd love to hang out but I have to go sit in my house by myself."

And as terrible as that may sound to some, it's sometimes true. I like to be alone. I  will admit I have occasionally turned down someone's invitation because, honestly, I'd rather go sit in my house by myself. Of course I wouldn't pick that over friends every time, but a few quiet hours to read or just putter with a project can be bliss.

Matt's been out of town for 4 days this week, so I decided to spend my evenings sorting through 2 huge plastic tubs and various drawers full of papers, letters, and miscellaneous memorabilia that we've toted around from house to house over the past few years. (All of it is mine - he doesn't save things the way I do.)

As I sorted I found a lot to throw away: old brochures, cards that were torn or just not that meaningful, school papers that I know I have as digital copies. I threw out trinkets and ticket stubs and notebooks full of unorganized thoughts. I saved Christmas photos and discarded the cards; I sifted through programs and posters of plays I'd been in, saving one or two of each instead of a stack of six. Some souvenirs I set aside and vowed to actually scrapbook. Others I just threw out. 

But I saved all the handwritten letters from my best friend during his summer at boot camp. Letters and cards and colorful drawings from my mom and siblings during my 4 years at college. Encouraging notes written by friends. College brochures with our pictures in them. Half-finished journals, many pages still blank when they were discarded for newer, fresher ones (that would end up just the same). And try as I might, I couldn't throw away any card from my grandma, even if it just said, "love, Grandma" on the inside. It's been almost seven years since she's been gone, but...keeping them for a few more won't hurt.

Only one or two of the handwritten items were from my husband - most of our communication has been digital. After we first met we spent a lot of time talking through instant messaging (even though our dorms were only a parking lot apart). We emailed during the summers I spent nannying. We had a lot of relationship-defining conversations through digital media. Even now, if we're fighting or not communicating, often my first thought is to type up my arguments/issues instead of sitting face-to-face discussing them. I know this hasn't been the best way to handle things. I'll write it but end up keeping it to myself, and our silences fade back into every day life without actually being addressed head-on, which encourages them to rise up, worse, again and again.

Being an introvert, putting things down on paper is often easier for me than actually saying them. And the convenience of a computer means I can pound out words as quickly as they enter my head, be they angry, poetic, thoughtful or chaotic. Taking the time to write something by hand, or mustering the courage to actually say them, is probably much smarter. A couple of years ago I took part in a Bible study that encouraged writing out the entire book of James by hand. Writing it by hand makes you more involved than just reading it, stated the instructor. It takes time and imparts more meaning.

To bring this rambling introspection to a close, I will continue to sift through saved memories and attempt to create more for our future. More handwritten notes. More photos. More indications of things my husband and I will do together and apart over the years. But mostly, I hope, together.   

Unquiet

     Quiet time. 

     To most people that sounds like a very peaceful part of the day: early morning with a nice cup of tea, a devotional book with flowers on the cover and a big comfy chair.  Everything is right with God and it’s time to reflect on Bible passages you’ve already memorized and can instantly apply to life’s moments. But what if flowery, placating words only increase bitterness? What if conversations with God have been limited to “why?” Or worse – and more realistically – if they haven’t existed at all?

     I shared with a dear friend that I am going through a time of bitterness, anger and hurt. This dear friend recommended starting “quiet time” by shouting and venting to God – not AT God, not blaming Him for everything, but venting, sharing, releasing hurt and frustration. Just saying it to Him directly can begin the healing. Then turn on worship music, she said, and turn it up loud. Listen to words of praise for Him, even if you can’t say them yourself yet. Go to the Psalms. Read them even if nothing jumps out. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again. Do this every day, and God will begin to speak to you: through the music, or the words on the page, or the way your words to Him begin to change. Day after day talk to Him and read His promises, even if they mean nothing to you at first. Finding peace through God won’t happen in a day. And once it’s found, it won’t stay without work. 

     Last night I tried. I closed the door, pushed the coffee table into the corner and sat on the floor. I laid out my Bible and put on my playlist, a mere 7 songs. A lot of worship songs tire me with their repetition, so I tried to pick a few with lyrics I knew were personally meaningful. I closed my eyes and screamed. My husband was home so I didn’t scream out loud, but I screamed and screamed and screamed inside my head. Ranting about the past few weeks, the past 4 years, the years to come. Raving because I can go from loving my husband to despising him in mere seconds, and it is hardening my soul. Blaming myself for letting this cycle roll on and dig up pain I didn’t know existed. 

     Everything has turned to hatred. Even writing, one of the things I love, has become the enemy. He exists right now in a vast world of words and yet never asks or seeks out mine. Even writing this causes the bitterness to rise. Has he ever cared or encouraged my words? My focus turns away from God and inward into hate so quickly. Bitterness and bitterness and bitterness.

     Song lyrics told me of a husband’s desire to lead with strong hands, and I cried because I have no trust or respect for my husband. I want to be led and yet I deem him unworthy. We don’t agree. We don’t work towards the same goals. We exist alone beside each other. And I need God to show me how this will change. 

     A verse stood out that said as I cry out with my voice, He hears me from upon His holy hill. I wrote it down. I closed the book. Turned off the music. Got up. Went out. Made dinner. The bitterness remains.

      I’ll do it again. And again and again and again. It’s the least and the most all at once.