Adventure in Lies as Truths

Admittedly this post is spurred on by two things. 1) service this morning and 2) recent messes

Admission number two, I’m a little out of it today, and was therefore, distracted enough in service to probably only really hear this one piece. If I’m honest, but it was a good thing to hear.

clover

Lately, life has been good. Things have been steady. Both good and bad have been constant. Balanced for the most part.

Summer, as I’ve mentioned before, is the worst for me. I’m trying so hard this year not to let it rattle me or worse kill me (still likely), but still it tears at me. I feel constantly tired and worn. Around 4:30, no matter what, a wave of fatigue washes over me, and I’m left deciding whether the rest of the day is even worth pursuing or if I should just go to bed. I keep living. I don’t sleep when it happens, but it’s only just mid-June There’s still time to collapse altogether.

With this increase in summer, so comes an increase of all of the rest of the bad in me, including the welling up of insecurities and ineptness that has plagued me these last 27 years. It’s manageable the rest of the year, but it always becomes so much worse in the summer. And I let myself fall victim to it. I’m already sad, and sadness is comforting to me, so why not let my brain take over? Why not let me imagination run wild with things I know to be lies? Or things I know I’m supposed to believe are lies? Or things I’m not supposed to believe because they are lies? Obviously, I’m uncertain on what the actual truth of that is or the proper verbiage.

I let former failings creep back into my heart. I let past and present insecurities roll around and around inside my head. And I do start to lose it. I start to lose any drive to leave the apartment, to see people, to speak, to explain myself. I’m so tired of explaining myself. Maybe I’m being a baby for even letting summer affect me as it does. Maybe I just am a little baby. But then. Ya know, that’s probably one of those lies. All of these lies I tell myself. My greatest truth is who I am in Christ, and yet that’s so hard to hold onto. No excuses, it’s simply hard.

What I do know is we’re all lying to each other. All of the time. “I’m fine,” we sigh when we’re plainly not. “Nothing,” we’ll add when we’re asked how someone else can help us. Personally, I always know how specific people can help me, but one of my greatest weaknesses is not being able to ask for help, even when help is offered.

And for those of you keeping the record, Tom Abels spoke in service today, and the one thing he said that truly hit me. A thing I want to scream at people all of the time, but never know how to say it. “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.” People say it all of the time. Chapter verse that shit. 1 Corinthians 10:13 right? Nothing more than we can handle? Right?

“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure.”

Want to look again?

“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure.”

“‘God does not give us more than you can handle.’ That’s true about temptation. Not life. No one can handle life.” -Tom Abels.

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Adventure in Adventure Bag

Peter Pan is my favorite book. I have three copies of it. All of them are annotated. All of them are worn.

When I was little I was determined to be an adventurer. I was going to explore the whole world. There were tigers hiding in the day lilies. There were hunters hiding in the trees. And while I knew it was just a story part of me was pretty sure that Peter Pan was based on actual events. In the same way I believed (believe) the Doctor is real. It’s all just so generalized now. One person heard one specific story, and those details spread. With the Doctor, if I’m honest with you, I believed every detail. Gobbled it up. Now I know–erm imagine, some details stuck. Big, blue box. One person saw a big, blue box a few times and was like “yep, it’s always that.” And then came a tv show. And then came a fan base. And then came a skewing of the truth. But I know that if I wait it out, he’ll come to my TARDIS. my tardis

With Peter Pan I got carried away. Maybe. Understand me here. I had a great home life. I did. Shoot, I still could if I wanted to move back. But I was a restless kid. I still am. And I thought one day I’d run away. Not out of spite or fear or anger. I just needed to get away. To be free and to explore without restrictions. So I packed a bag. I kept a bag packed, for just the right time. Truth be told, I kept a bag packed in quiet anticipation of Peter Pan coming to my window. I remember crying myself to sleep a few times thinking about how I’m not English, and he’d never come to America.

It wasn’t a big bag, but I wasn’t a big person. A change of clothes. Underwear. A stuffed animal. Webby, from Duck Tales, I think. And my blankie.

This week I did something I hadn’t done for a very long time. I packed the bag. It’s a bookbag I stole from my brother. Olive drab canvas. I stole it when I reattached a strap. “I fixed it, so it’s mine now.” (I’m a bad person). A change of clothes. Shorts. Jeans. Two shirts. Underwear. Spare toothbrush. Deodorant. Yellow, stone-washed Toms. My favorite copy of Peter Pan. The current book I’m reading. Blankie.

Adulthood isn’t so different, and I know I’m not going anywhere, but I feel like I could. I could run away. Is it running away if you’re an adult with no actual obligations or ties?

Know that if the Doctor comes, I’m going. I’ve got my bags packed just like Donna Noble (on a much smaller scale). And when–if he does, we’re picking up Jeff Blossom, and hitting the infinite time/space highway.

It’s summer, and summer is brutal to my heart and mind. The way that winter destroys so many other people. Summer kills me. I’ve been trying to prepare myself. Getting myself ready with favorite memories from summers past. How can any summer live up to the summer of Fox Mulder? How can I survive another summer at all? This one may do me in.

I’m just so fitful. Restless. Chickenshit.