white light

Finally, there is clarity, and I can breathe more easily. The sun is coming out from behind the clouds, shedding light on the situation. God whispers, and I am able to hear him louder and louder, guiding me far better than I have guided myself lately. That He can do so should not be surprising, and yet I seem to forget it too often. And even though the truth of the matter is not necessarily what I want it to be, it is the truth, and therefore, it is good. I am beginning to feel as if things have worked out for the best, and so I am feeling better.

a solitary soul

I am just fine without him, until I think about him.

I had a dream that I drowned myself in the ocean. The most frightening thing about the dream was that it did not frighten me. I found a peace in the sea that I have not known for months. All I feel right now is fear, sadness and self-hatred. Death was easier than trying to come to terms with all that is wrong with me.

If only love could be simple. If only I had the capacity to love without always feeling like something is lacking. There are days when he is so adorable that I cannot help but feel as though I love him. Any woman loves being doted upon. But there are also days when he is so irritating that I just wish I were single. Much as I may want to, I cannot completely resign myself to this relationship, because regardless of how much I love being loved, there is something critical that is missing. He is so much of what I want in a man, but he is not everything.

The more I think upon it, the less I want to be in a relationship. And yet, the more I think upon it, the less I want that to be the case. I want nothing more than to want him, yet I am unable. For so long I thought that my good intentions would create the desired end, that wanting to love him would eventually make me love him. But they have only made us both unhappy. Every attempt of mine to feel what I feel I should feel has failed, and perhaps it is best to move on and to allow him to move on. I find myself wanting to try again, but I just cannot get over the fear that I will only break both our hearts all over again. After all the damage I have already done, I cannot bring myself to take that risk. A heart can only be broken so many times, and difficult as it is for me to end it with him now, I know that I could not possibly live with myself if I did it to him all over again. Even if he thinks otherwise, I know that I am not worth it. It is not enough to try again and to know that we tried. I have never accepted that mentality. Of course we tried, and we failed. It was useless. I do not want to try again and get the same outcome of failure.

And yet, I am so afraid that if I let him go, I will never find another man who will love me the way he does. For all I know, I may someday genuinely love him, but while I am flattered by his devotion, I have to admit that I do not love him. The fact that he loves me, that we share interests, and that we have long been so close should be enough to guarantee my happiness, yet I am unhappy, and I can only ignore that for so long before it surfaces.

So much of my unhappiness comes from the fact that I simply want to experience more before I settle down. The intensity of his love frightens me. Especially after everything that has happened, I know that if I go back to him, it is for good, and that scares me like no other. It feels too early for me to commit to anyone. I am only eighteen. I have no desire to be tied down. I want to breathe, to run, to live a vagabond existence while I am still young.

But how selfish of me! After all we have been through, after all I have done to him, after all he has done for me, I hate the idea that it could be over forever simply because of my inability to love him the way he deserves.

I hate the idea that we might go on with our lives separately and that I will be forever plagued with the knowledge of what I have put him through. He has loved so deeply for so long, and I hate myself for allowing it to go on. I should have been responsible. I should have listened to myself when I said I would not get into a relationship with him. But he loved too greatly, and he wore me down. If only I had been stronger at the beginning, it would have ended before it began, but he broke through the resistance that I put on to protect us both, and now we are dealing with the consequences. He finally had me, and his happiness pleased me. It was a storybook ending. But it was not enough to outweigh that which is lacking.

For so much of my life, I wished only for one single person to love me, whom I could love in return and cling to and be with and be happy with. Now that such a one has found me, I have run away from him, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for being unhappy. I hate myself for wanting more out of life. I hate myself for being so petty, foolish and selfish. I hate myself for allowing the relationship to continue when I knew full well how torn I was about it. I hate myself for trying to create something that did not exist. I hate myself for trying to force myself to love him, because it has only created even more heartache.

I had everything I really needed wrapped around my finger, yet I could not just be content. What in the world is wrong with me?

It is not in my power to create love. Either it exists, or it doesn’t. I must learn to accept that which I cannot change. Slowly, I am recovering, but there still remains a long distance to go, and it will not be easy. I am "seeing with different eyes and making the acquaintance of new conditions in myself that color and change my environment." I am realizing my place in the world, the things which I truly desire, and the direction in which I want my life to go. I am realizing what a mess I have made of things, and I am beginning to understand the anguish that drove Edna Pontellier to the depths of the ocean.

I am so completely and utterly disappointed.

the lesser of two evils

This would have been so much easier if he did not love me. It would have been easier still if I were like other girls, if I could just love him back, as I feel like I should. I would be hard-pressed to find one kinder, gentler, or more earnest, and yet "an indescribable oppression, which seems to generate in some unfamiliar part of my consciousness, fills my whole being with a vague anguish. It is like a shadow, like a mist passing across my soul's summer day."

I often find myself wondering, Why does he love me? I do not know what there is to love about me so much. I am petty. I am foolish. I am irrational. I am hurtful. I don't make any sense. And yet, he loves on, and it is remarkable indeed, for I confess I doubt any other man would ever be so generous.

Yet here I am again, unable to cope with what seems to be an inability to love. I feel cold and disconnected from my own existence. On the outside, I do my best to conform, to do what I know I should, to do that which makes logical sense. Yet inside, I question always. My intentions are only for the best, yet there is always that part of me which dissents, that inner chamber of myself, whispering things which I can only ignore for so long.

And so I find myself standing at a crossroads, trying to choose between the lesser of two evils:

Should I cut myself off, break his heart and perhaps find happiness someday in my own lonely freedom? Shall I bear the burden of having forsaken his love all for the selfish sake of securing myself some fresh air? Or, should I stay with him, preserve his heart and perhaps find happiness someday in his arms? Perhaps love simply comes more slowly than I wish for. It is absurd to assume that I will love someone after only about four months of dating them, despite every reason that I should. For all I know, I could just need more time.

Whatever I choose, it will bring unhappiness to either one or both of us. I almost feel as if I should just choose the option that will at least guarantee his happiness. To have caused my own unhappiness: that, I could live with, but to make someone else miserable...that is a thing much more difficult to bear.

So, as on the summit of Gethsemane, I am praying for the strength and the will to sacrifice my own life for the sake of my dear, dear friend. I should carry the cross of my own selfishness, my dissatisfaction, my inability to commit, and give myself away upon it. My heart is wild and uncertain, and I must tame it. I must be realistic. "The acme of bliss...is not for me in this world." He has fallen in love, "as men are in the habit of doing," and I should devote myself to the "man who worships me," taking my place "with a certain dignity in the world of reality, closing the portals forever behind me upon the realm of romance and dreams."

Ah! Si tu savais! Has The Awakening taught me nothing?

I do not know if I can provide for him the love and peace and devotion that he needs. If he truly wants me, then unfortunately he wants someone who is simply incapable of loving him all the time, the way he deserves to be loved. He has bestowed his love upon a most unworthy recipient, for I suffer from the terrible, incurable disability of being unable to love properly, and we are both the unhappy victims.

My own inadequacy is to blame for what has happened. Much as I care for him, there are times when I wish, for both our sakes and especially for his, that we had never met. But I must find a way to forgive myself for that which I cannot change. I must pray that God will show me the right way to resolve the situation. I must try to trust myself enough to listen.

More than anything, I need to get away, to run to the north, into the woods. I need to find some peace and quiet, where I can think.

in full color

I grew up in what happened to be basically an all-white neighborhood. It was not for any racism, but simply that it was the suburbs and not many people lived there who were of other cultures. I think it is sad that I was not really exposed to other cultures earlier on in my life. Despite my lack of exposure, however, I was brought up in a home that vehemently believes that racism is wrong. Lately, I have observed that perhaps the racial acceptance of my parents is fed in part by the prejudices of their parents.

What is it with the elderly and racism? I realize that things were very different when they were children, but how, in this day and age, can they possibly continue to hold on to those old falsehoods?

My cousin was telling me about one of her new neighbors, whom she recently met. She can tell the story in more detail than I, but basically he stated that he believed that Muslims, Hindus and Mexicans are filthy animals. When my cousin chided him, he replied "well, I'm old."

Even my father's mother, the sweetest woman you could possibly meet, is a racist. She may not believe in oppressing minorities, but when I told her that my roommate was from the south side of Chicago, the first thing she asked was "is she black?" (Not to mention, this was not on just one occasion, but two.) If you ask her about the Chicago neighborhood where she grew up, she'll tell you that it is overrun by Mexicans. The first thing she said to describe my choir director was "he's black."

It pains me to call my relatives racist, but I simply cannot avoid the fact any longer. I believe in respecting my elders, but with all due respect, I cannot possibly respect anyone with such outdated, ridiculous opinions. I will not accept their racism simply because it was once tolerated. I will not put up with it just because they're old and don't know any better. Since when has ignorance been an excusable offense?

I was speaking with my mother's mother (who still refers to African-Americans as "colored people") recently about racism. She was telling me a story about how my great-uncle, a white man, shot a black man for trying to steal something from him. She was apparently expecting me to think this was perfectly all right, because when I told her that I thought it was wrong to shoot someone, especially when it is partially because of their race, she actually became angry, telling me I could not possibly understand because I had never lived in the South.

Quite frankly, I think that is the most absurd lie I have ever heard in my life.

Racism still exists because some people still tell themselves this lie, that because racism existed in the past, it is simply a reality that we cannot rectify. Racism still exists because, in the eyes of some, it remains a very grotesque tradition. Racism will continue to thrive until we can find the beauty in every language, every culture, every nation's colors, creed, music, and art, and yes, every skin tone.

We must not try to paint the world all in one color. We must not paint it yellow, black, white, nor should we paint it red with blood. To oversaturate the world in one color just brings darkness. Rather, we must cover it in light, for in light there is every color of the spectrum.

One of the things I love most about my neighborhood here in Chicago is the diversity of the community. Every African-American, every Anglo, every Asian-American, every Native American, every Latino, every Arab-American, every Jew, every Muslim, every Christian, every Buddhist, every Hindu, and every pot-smoking Rastafarian is made in the Lord's image, a reflection of God.

Like a huge photomosaic, every face is part of God's face, and that is the most beautiful thing there is.

the fundamental problem with faith

The fundamental problem with faith is that it requires, well, faith. It is too abstract to be understood by most people, not because they are incapable but because they refuse. By its very nature, one must have faith to understand faith, and thus, many people are often left out or misled elsewhere. The fundamental problem with faith is that, because of this, it can drive away the people one loves. The fundamental problem with faith is how it cannot be compromised, despite the fact that not to compromise is often dangerous and frequently painful. Isn't it funny how, despite all this, faith is still the best way?

North Park's motto of the year is "What is a life of faith?"

In simplest terms, a life of faith is extremely frustrating. Perhaps that is why, in the end, it is so rewarding.