LETS TALK ABOUT OVERANALYZING.
I can over analyze the hell out of anything and everything. And lately, its my writing.
Its true.
Such as today, I posted on facebook that I was thankful for friends that carry hope for me, and who speak life, and I posted it. And I meant it. When suddenly, all I could think was that people would think less, that I'm too much, that I have too many emotions, and that something is wrong with ME. And I deleted it, hoping that no one saw it.
That happens far too much.
It also happens when I want to comment on blogs that I like, or when I write. I worry about what other people who communicate with their words so effectively will think of me commenting. Do they roll their eyes? Do they sigh? I want to thank people whose blogs have honestly brought me hope and freedom. And that their writing has said to me "you aren't alone". But I get awkward and weird and then afraid to do so.
Or the fact I didn't finish college. I'm not as educated. I type and write like I speak, fully knowing that's not "how" to do it. But its how I work. Its how these thoughts come out. I'm not eloquent. I'm blunt. I'm really honest. I'm raw. I don't know any other way to write. And I may never.
I have a friend whose been encouraging me to write poetry. Here's the honest thing... I'm afraid. I'm afraid to. Terrified. I read others poems and I could never write like that. I can almost hear him saying, "so write like you.."... maybe not, but I think that is close to what he would say.
One of my greatest fears is to end up alone, and friendships change when you write honestly. I had the same small group of friends back home. As I've been writing, a few have backed off. Some of it could be that seasons in friendships change at times. But I know theologically, I'm a different woman than I was. I see and smell and taste and believe the world differently than I did for so many years growing up that good Pentecostal girl who honestly just always pretended to have it together. I also know that in that environment, at times we took it very literally that if someone is not believing like you, and they don't heed your warnings/advice, its best to just back off because you can't be close friends with them anymore... A few I love dearly, they believe that. I fear losing more friends that I love.
But here's the truth... or truths:
I have to write. I have a million words all the time, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't put them somewhere.
I want to write poetry even if they are stupid, or ridiculous, and if only I and perhaps a friend or two ever read them.
I have to come to love this passionate, emotional part of me. Its Andrea. Its who I am. I want to always feel and love deeply. I want to feel it all deeply. Its often an equal blessing as it is a curse. And I am often a raging sea rather than a calm one.
I don't have it together. I may never.
I find God in different places than I used to. Nature. Partaking of the Eucharist on Sunday mornings. In the faces of the tribe I call church. In sacred spaces that I've found I have to carve out for me... in the quiet. On this wilderness road that has been lonely, often I'm met there. I love Jesus. Probably more than ever before. But its a honest, raw, relationship that we have. And I have found a love that I don't earn, and a God I don't have to perform for. There's freedom there.
I am not afraid of asking the questions. Of challenging what I've believed my whole life. And I'm working at not being afraid in the risk of writing them. I may lose friends. I may have people say mean things. I may not be accepted. BUT... I will make new friends. I will have people say good things, AND... I will be accepted in another circle.
But with all that overanalyzing said... its still worth it. I will still write, even if not a soul reads it anymore.
Because I think its worth it.
