Wednesday, April 14, 2010

On A Certain Lack of Maturity

I think I must need to grow up a little. Maybe God knows that, and is giving me ample opportunity.

I feel like I am in a holding pattern. One I've been in pretty continually for nearly two years. I am waiting. Waiting for life to change so that I can rejoin it. I realize how maladaptive that behavior is.

The thought occurred to me in February that perhaps there was some degree of relief experienced by Job once he'd really lost everything. "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose," right? But if I'm being honest with myself, to identify with Job would be to imply that I possess some measure of patience. I do not.

Nor am I disciplined enough to make myself behave properly, even though. Many nights I fall asleep thinking, "This is ridiculous, Mina. You have got to pull yourself together and just work tomorrow. You'll feel better." I sit weekly in silent prayer through the Sacrament promising myself and God that I will do better this week. But I don't. Because I feel complete impotence. Changing my attitude will not materially change our struggles. That's a hard reality for me at the moment and I don't care to face it. It's easier to check out.

It reminds me of my early motherhood years which I spent waiting for life to settle down. Things improved only once I accepted the fact that life doesn't really do that. So intellectually, I'm there. Pining away for something different serves no purpose. Shutting down accomplishes nothing. Life is what it is, and I, and everyone around me, will be better off with a functional, happy person living it. Practically, however, I am a toddler, squeezing shut my eyelids to avoid the drops. (That reference is for you, Mom.) I'd rather wait to open my eyes once the infection is gone.

"Grow up," He tells me, "grow up."