Ooh, what's that smell

N.B. This is a harsh reality kind of thing. I almost didn't post it. But then I did anyway.

I guess there's a lot of truth in Newton's Law. What goes up must come down, and for every action there's a reaction, and the glass that's half empty is another man's treasure or whatever.

What I mean is, I spent a very long time being not angry. Now the tide is coming in. Some of my anger is legitimate, and most of that gets resolved, so that everybody ends up better off. But something UGLY is going on.

At least I realize it, right? At least I smell the fishiness...

When I do the wrong thing, over and over, that is the result of a special magical curse set aside just for me. I can protest this injustice by shaking my fists at the sky.

I find myself feeling lonely and bitter because my professor doesn't like me, my friends are putting me in a box, and no one else has a rash, ever. I begin to feel tired. It's really draining, when I encounter people who are standing on pedestals they do not deserve, to personally unpedestal them.

At certain moments, I want to say something like,

    "How clever the sarcasm in your voice, and how stupid."
    "Everyone respects you. I don't know why, because I think you treat lots of people like crap."
    "You're talking low, but I can hear as you rip me apart."
    "Wow, did you attend a board meeting yesterday and make some more arbitrary decisions?"
    "I realize what I'm saying doesn't matter to you, but it'd be nice if you'd pretend."
    "You seem to hate me as much as I hate myself."

But I rarely say these things, because when I'm being a victim, it's hard to give people the dignity of knowing what I really think. I wanna let them figure it out for themselves.

OKAY ANYWAY. Basically, the fact is, I'm not going to make things better by being contrary, and bristly, and harboring a sekrit depressive anger like they do in movies.

I need not expect my peers to inwardly remark, "Amanda's quiet today. She must be feeling inadequate and frustrated. I should make several of the jokes she likes best."

My teachers will not say to themselves, "Amanda refuses to do any more than the naked, trembling minimum in her course work. This is a sign that I need to cultivate a sense of good will in the classroom. Her improved letter grade will be a reward to both of us."

Actually, God gave me the oars. I get to choose what I think, how I feel.

I am at liberty to whine about my circumstances. When I'm having one of those days, I can lament the pointlessness of everything I do. I can call myself a waste of time and space. I can focus on the blind shallowness of people who call themselves believers.

Or I can focus on the unfathomable graciousness of God. I can trust that he's making us Christians into a very good thing. I can be enamored with (or at least devoted to) what God is giving me to do in this moment.

In other words, life is full of small horrors, and I think I need to utilize the fine art of getting over it. That should be possible, since I know the secret: God hanging, bleeding, unable to breathe-- for us.

That love is the be all, end all. The one reason anything matters in the first place. The reason I don't have to live on the defense. The reason I can relax enough to take a breath, have a conversation, talk to God, do something difficult, and get all excited about rocketships. The reason I'm okay. The reason I can love you.