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Sometimes Being An Introvert Straight Up Sucks

I stand–mouth agape, arms akimbo–in awe of people who manage to maintain large coteries of friends, social media connections, socialize with coworkers, etc.

Because that’s not me. When first I began blogging, I was there: commenting, sharing, interacting. Then I hit a wall. I burnt out. I couldn’t keep up with everything and everyone. It got overwhelming.

Funny thing is, when I pulled up virtual stakes, my Internet presence began to go along with it. This blog may as well be drying on the vine as much as it’s read these days. I can’t say I ever had halcyon days, but the old grey mare sure ain’t what she used to be. I wanted to use it as a springboard to launch a platform, but what influence do I have?

That’s as may be. I don’t know what to do about it. I only that I’m not above the pangs of jealousy whenever I hear that coworkers have gotten together over the weekend, that so-and-so has another book coming out, that this other guy is getting all these hits (and comments).

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m defective, off putting, something. I have a family that loves me, but I sure don’t have a lot of friends. And the Internet friends I once had have gone their own ways. Some days I just feel so alone. It feels like childhood all over again: being ignored, left to my own devices.

I mostly get by. I have a God Who loves me, a wife and kids who adore me. But anytime I’ve gotten close to a group of friends something has happened. I don’t know if it’s me, them, or just this rotten world.

In any case, I’m not unhappy. I love Jesus, my wife, kids, family. But it would be nice to be known, to be appreciated, to be able to share life with brothers of like minded faith sometimes.

I know we’re all busy. And I hope I’m not just writing on my own behalf. I’m sure there are others of you out there feeling the same.

I’m here. I’m still here.

Email Me

So, I’ve Been Having This Pity Party

For the last few days. And, man–is it ever ugly. First, my family headed out of town (they deserve it) for a couple days,  and I couldn’t go. Then, there were all of these obligations–my wife had an art class (scheduled months ago), church, etc.

And it was my birthday weekend.

The rational side of me was cool with all of this, but I guess my inner child was feeling forgotten.

I was whiny, petulent, churlish all weekend.

My wife and I finally got to go out last night, and just didn’t go as I’d hoped.

I’m 45 today, and I just feel a little forgotten.

It’s okay, I’ll get over it.

Have a nice rest of your day.

Coming Up on Randomlychad

Happy Friday, folks! Glad you could be here. Coming up on the blog will be a post on the importance of embracing conflict. It’s neither pleasant, nor easy, but is worth it (something which has taken me far too many years to learn).

Also, some time between now and next Friday, the 28th, I’ll be hosting a Noah themed giveaway. It’s a pretty cool prize pack, and you’re not going to want to miss out on your chance to win.

Thanks, and God bless!

Have an excellent weekend.

The Big Power of Little Words

Yesterday was hard. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. In my quest to achieve a better today (all that each of us truly has anyway), I’ve been delving into the root causes of some my habitual behaviors.

Those patterns of relating that are borne of the intersection of nature, nature, and inclination.

What I’m finding is sobering.

I’m finding that seemingly innocuous, well-meaning words have the power to shape the course of a life.

Don’t believe me?

Consider this: as a small child, when I got a scrape, a bruise, a “boo-boo,” in an effort (I suppose) to toughen me up, I was told to say “I’m alright.”

Thing is, scrapes hurt. There wasn’t the “Are you okay?” Rather, I heard “You’re alright.”

Repeat something enough times, and it gets internalized. Becomes a part of our inner monologue.

So it was, on a visit to my grandmother’s house, and while playing hide-and-seek, I fell through the well cover. Did I cry out “Help?” Or “Help me?”

No.

Louder and louder I shrieked “I’m alright! I’M ALRIGHT!!! I’M ALRIGHT!!!!”

But of course I wasn’t–I was a small boy on the verge of falling into a well, with the very real possibility of drowning. Fortunately, my grandmother found me, and kept me from falling down the well.

“I’m alright” became my modus operandi, my life philosophy. Even when, especially when, things were most decidedly not alright. Here’s the thing: rather than toughen me up, prepare for the harsh realities of life, this little phrase served instead to crush whatever empathy my burgeoning soul possessed.

To this day, I have to work at feeling with, and for, someone. Because they, too, are alright.

Even when they’re not.

And that is the big power of little words.

God help me.

Past the Breaking

Sleep is fleeting… when it comes.
Rising early, I groan “Not again.”
Temples pounding, I rise.

Why, God, does sleep hide from me?
I want to avoid, blame, hate You

When night after night stretches into:

Weeks…

Months…

Years…

Leaving me past the breaking

But is this where you want me?

What is on the other side?

Where is rest

When is the rest?

Where are You when night after night I beg for sleep?

God, can You hear me?

Will You bring me past the breaking into peace?

Will you?

I’m waiting.

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