Expressing Myself

This inability to express what’s going on in my head is really starting to become upsetting. Not only do I feel lately like there’s no way for me to express myself, but the self-hatred is starting to really build and it’s toxic. When I say self-hatred I mean that I don’t like who I am; who I’ve become. I hate my body. I’m not happy with my looks. I dyed my hair recently, and I really liked it for the first few days, and now it’s just another part of me. It’s not really a solution. I didn’t change anything. I’ve been eating horribly this semester and I know that has an effect on how I feel and even how I look. I’ve gained weight, I’m almost sure of it. I feel heavier and I think I can see it in my face too. What is wrong with me that I never have the motivation to do anything? I don’t have the motivation to continue to work out and change my body for the better. I don’t have the motivation to be healthy and live well. I don’t have the motivation to read my Bible or pray daily. I don’t have the motivation to do my school work or go to classes. I don’t have the motivation to be the best version of myself that I can be. What is wrong with me?

I miss my home on Holcomb so much lately. Every time I think of that place, its summer and its warm and I’m young and carefree. I can see the garden, smell the flowers, almost feel the grass beneath my feet. I can walk through that house and see the soft yellow walls glow in the sun, feel the cool linoleum on the soles of my feet, see the little dust motes floating in the sunshine in the kitchen. I can see my room, almost touch the things that I used to own. I can feel the cool, damp relief that the basement brought on a hot summer day. All I have to do is close my eyes and I’m back home. I’m back in that place. All I want to do is be there. Is to have one more chance to appreciate that home. I feel like I was just on the verge of being able to appreciate so much in my life when I lost it. My childhood home. My grandparents. My innocence. What I wouldn’t give for one more day with my grandparents, one more day to tell them thank you and ask them all the questions left unanswered now. How much would I love one more chance to walk through that house and touch my belongings, maybe save a few more of them. To look around and know that no matter how crappy it may have seemed, that place raised me and made me who I am today. If I could just take a moment to tell myself that none of the drama matters, and that boys can wait. Maybe if I could save myself a little bit of heartache maybe I wouldn’t be here.

I have been on my own this semester, even this year. I have completely detached myself from what I know to be my faith and my life. I haven’t sought God, I haven’t grown. I’ve become stagnant, luke-warm water. It’s not a life that I want. It’s not a life that I can live. I cannot live the rest of my life floating through each day without the hand of God. I can’t do it. It’s too draining. But I don’t know how to get back. I don’t have that motivation. It’s just plain not there. I feel like Iowa State is draining me. I feel like maybe I’m not in the right place. But I can’t just up and leave. Where would I go? And who’s to say these feelings are not just being driven by the overwhelming self-doubt that has taken root in my life? I just want to be done. I sit here in this lecture hall and all I want to do it be sitting in an apartment somewhere that is not in Iowa. I want to have my own space with my own things. I want to be enjoying a great job and maybe a great relationship. I don’t understand why this part of my life is going to be so essential, because no matter what, I think I still believe that this period of time has been in the big picture plan all along.

Despite all of this, I just want to be happy again. Genuinely happy. What scares me is that I don’t know if I’ll ever get there again. I cannot see the light at the end of this long tunnel.