August 19, 2001
9:34pm
Today my mood was as varied as the weather. The morning bought slate grey skies and fat raindrops smearing the windowshield. I drove to church squinting to peer through the mist being kicked up by other cars. I needed the security of an umbrella just to dash the few feet to the building without getting soaked. However, by the time I got out the sun was shining warm and bright. I stopped for a while and looked up at the endless blue sky and big puffy clouds. I must have looked stupid staring at the sky like there was something up there, but I enjoyed it. It was one of those rare carefree moments where you're inexplicably happy and all seems right with the world.
Jenna is one of the new leaders of the campus ministry at my church. We meet at her house after church every Sunday. This Sunday she made the most delicious jambalaya I've ever tasted. It exploded on my tongue with a burst of flavor and later melted into a kind of spiciness that made my mouth tingle. There was also some sugary sweet raspberry lemonade. It was a scrumptious lunch indeed.
Later on I took a walk around the block with Renae. Dark clouds were gathering overhead again, getting ready to have another go at an Ohio monsoon season. The fear of getting wet was a little distracting, but not very.
Jenna lives in an interesting neighborhood filled with large yet charming houses. Many of them have trellises of creeping vines and gardens of colorful blooms that weave organic tapestries on the front lawns. The nostalgic homes and streets alive with children at play give the neighborhood a quaint old character. Or perhaps I was just viewing it through my romantic mind's eye.
Renae and I talked about many things and she challenged me on many things. As usual, I had to choke back my tendency to make excuses for myself (though that strategy wasn't completely successful) and force myself to hear what she was saying without the wall of self-defense. She once again dug up issues that I've spent my whole summer in blissful ignorance of: issues of my shyness, timidity, and outright cowardice. A mere scratch on the surface of my composure caused ugly guilt and self-doubt to well up and wreak havoc on my emotions, exposing my lonliness and (even worse) my fear that I deserve to be alone. Again I'm faced with my usefulness to God and my fellow humankind, forced to ask myself why I continue to live and breathe, allowing fear to be an excuse to do nothing about it. Again I have to force myself to speak to strangers even though the mere prospect of doing so makes me weak with the same inexpressible terror that made me seek therapy in the first place. I feel forced into a task designed to show my gratitude to God, but that I unequivocally hate with all my being. If that sends me to Hell, so be it. I can't help the way I feel.
How can I force myself to do a task that drains all my being? Worse yet, I must do it alone because no matter what Renae says there's hardly anyone to help me. Almost all of them have moved on. And so my final year at school is one I face with fear and trepidation because it will be my lonliest one yet. How will I ever get through anything if I can't get through this? This was only a fraction of the drama going on in my head.
After that talk I was completely drained. I wonder if anyone will sign my little Slambook. I took great pains to post interesting, thought-provoking questions and yet they remain unanswered. If any of you have had the patience to read this far then you certainly have the time to sign it. I think it would feel much better if you did.