I did it. Guilty as charged.
I lost control. I lost control in the worst of ways.
In a Walmart parking lot I lost control. I could feel the waves of anger and frustration and sadness and hurt and guilt rushing through my veins. I screamed like the crazy woman that my inner self wants to be. I screamed so loud and so much that it made the passenger silent. I scared him.
He tells me I have a choice. That I can choose to be happy. But if you’ve never been in a place where that isn’t even an option, then you can’t understand. I try I try so hard when I’m feeling like this to be happy. And it’s a combination of the hormones running rampant through my body plus the depression that has yet to completely fade plus the inadequacies that I feel for myself plus the stubbornness that I’ve inherited from my family.
We’re driving at this point and I apologize and I’m thinking about this choice and trying to explain how feeling that way isn’t even an option. And I hear a voice telling me to pray. And yet praying is the last thing I feel like doing because I know that it’s not heartfelt. I have a hard time praying when this stuff happens because it’s like that part of me is shut behind a door. I can’t access it. I can’t find the happiness, I can’t find the love, I can’t find ME.
And yet cognitively I know that my behavior is wrong and I should be much nicer to the man who has seen me at my best and at my worst all at the same time, and yet I don’t. And I want to do this and this and this and yet I don’t. And then I get more and more upset.
So I go to the ladies room to get into The Word and I try to pray because I really feel that’s what I need to do. And I open my Joyce Meyer devotional for the day and it’s titled “A Willingness to Change”. My heart sinks to the ground in one of those moments that you know God is talking to you.
He, as always, has hit the nail on the head. The root of the matter is that I haven’t had the willingness to change. When I tell myself I need to start acting better, being nicer or whatever I hear – but I don’t want to. I should snap out of this – but I don’t want to.
And I read on and she talks about crisis points, not breaking points, crisis points. I stop and think wow – am I at a crisis point. If yelling and screaming at the top of my lungs isn’t a crisis point then I don’t know what is. But honestly – I don’t know how to handle how I feel or rather my lack of feeling any other way than yelling and screaming. It’s how I was taught and it’s what I do when I’m alone. It’s what echos through my head when I keep my mouth shut.
Joyce says that “The Bible says that we can “choose life”. God has provided you with the support and ability to change, but you have to be willing to…”
I start to question if I’m willing or ready or able to. Then I realize that I must be. God’s allowed this stuff to happen, he’s been convicting me of my actions and now it’s time to let go. Just let go. I can feel my heart melting, the doors opening. My crisis point has been reached. I’ve gone out of control. It’s time to go home and ask for help. I know it’s not going to be an easy thing, but it will totally be worth it. For my life and my marriage and my relationship with God.