Confession Number One:
For the first time in like four years (humble brag), I haven’t kept my new year’s resolution. Which makes me normal! But I liked that I wasn’t normal in that way! Dammit. I’m back on track (with one day under my belt), but man oh man did I cheat the past few weeks. Until around January 7, I was like, AWWWW MAN I’M DOIN GREAT. I’d set an alarm for myself, browse gossip sites and interior design blogs for 20 minutes, and sign back off. What felt like oodles of free time popped up out of nowhere. I was forced to be alone with my thoughts, and it was uncomfortable but refreshing. But slowly, what with the fact that I’m moving and have to buy a bunch of home goods/ moving supplies, I stopped setting the alarm, and minutes turned into quite possibly hours of adding things to various web carts for my new apartment. Which has led to:
Confession Number Two:
I’ve also been bad about keeping of my finances in the past few weeks. I had to borrow some (a lot) of money to make this move happen, and aside from keeping track of what I owe my friends, I’ve gotten lax about all the little purchases from day to day. Allergy meds, a coffee, that Uber ride: I’ve tried to keep unnecessary spending to a minimum, but somehow that’s translated into sort of pretending I’m not spending anything at all. I am very likely being a perfectionist, but there it is.
And Confession Number Three:
Not really a confession but an observation. I had a moment of grace this morning on the subway. I was journaling about the ways I continue to use the Internet to avoid facing my thoughts/ feelings, and how what I’m realizing I’m actually attempting to avoid is God. I’m trying to avoid letting him speak to me because I’m afraid he’s going to be all kill-joy. I’m afraid that as soon as I tap into prayer, what I’m going to hear back is a list of the ways I’m messing up (dating the wrong people, dating at all, being unkind to my family, telling too many white lies, trying to do life on my own) and preventing him from doing his thing for me. Which might be true! I might be fucking up (I am, trust me)! But I don’t believe God would meet my approach with an instant list of wrongdoing. Instead, I started writing, maybe I should stop putting words in God’s mouth. Maybe each time I pray and then get discouraged by God’s seeming disapproval, it’s really my own guilt talking, not God. Maybe what God has to say to me is simpler than that: I love you, Melissa. My grace is sufficient. My love covers all.