ohhh blogging.

It's funny to me at times that I have a blog. I read Ellie and Chelsea's blogs and, well, they have blogs because they're in stinkin COSTA RICA...and I have a blog because, well...? I guess it's important to write during the slumber-like seasons of transition. Everything is new and familiar at the same time, it's so strange. In some ways, everything deserves to be documented somehow.

I was talking to Abi the other day on the phone, which to be honest was something I felt myself resisting (I mean, come on, who actually TALKS to their friends anymore... oh, wait, is it just me?), but she was telling me about an encounter she had with her 5 year old sister. I guess Rory was saying that she hated herself, and Abi at first tried to comfort her or encourage her, but then proceeded to tell her that she was being selfish (what guts!) and directed Rory to think of 5 positive/good things about herself. And I guess by the time she got to the 5th thing, she was happier and grateful to Abi for helping her. It seems that self-discipline can get you out of the addicting quicksand that is self-pity.

I won't lie, I've never ever been good at self-discipline. Because of that, I make unnecessary excuses that I later feel guilty for, procrastinate, cut corners when possible, and become more hardened to positive change as the days go on. There are a lot of excuses I could make, but at the end of the day they don't really matter. I think what matters is just...trying to always be better- "better" as in my overall health. I don't take care of myself, and I think I need to stop living a sob story and start actually trying to change the way I live. Oh the power of Believe.

I've realized that so far this summer, I've been doing things I know I need to do, but my heart has been no where near it. I'm realizing that deep down I just want to fill a formula and not be engaged. I'm not interested in really making new friends- actual friends, so I just show up to events and laugh and smile and put on a friendly exterior. Deep down I know I'm scared to make friends. I'm scared of people. It seems that most times they end up hurting you, even the ones you're sure would never. I guess I'm still bitter. Getting hurt always turns me off to people. It's a lot easier to exist to people as a cardboard cut-out instead of as a living breathing person with a past and issues and real feelings. I like to feel like new people aren't going to ask me about any of that. I'd rather impress them with my politeness, ease in laughter, and quiet kindness. I'd rather them not ask me about school, about friends, about the depressed side of me that's tied to them both.

I don't know how to do things the right way. I want to think I do. I don't know how to look like or be the Christian girls you see running around serving people and God. I'm a little too insecure, I think. I hate that word. Insecure. Beth Moore's right, insecurity is a form of selfishness. I'm obsessed with figuring out how many ways I fall short. I used to be able to analyze a flaw of mine, or a period of hurt in my life, and then let it go and change accordingly. But now I find that I've omitted the second and most crucial step of that healing process. I'm good at acknowledging, but not good at changing. For some reason I want to feel stuck with me.

It's easier to not feel attached. I'm more comfortable being at a distance from everyone, even if that means I'm being left out. It doesn't matter to me as long as it's my choice. If I'm being left out by people who didn't use to leave me out- by people who I don't want to be left out by, well, then there's problems. Then they just make me feel worthless and discarded. But if I'm the one deciding to not be included...it's just a coping mechanism, and well, let's face it, I have my fair share of those.

Well, this hitting too close to my heart and I don't want to go any deeper, so I'll abruptly stop now, lest it become unbearably long and directionless.