Quiet Desperation

Thursday, January 29, 2004

Im so tired. I can think of a million reasons why. Tests, homework, social demands, this wedding in two days, work. But I’m worn out in spirit too.

Today I saw Francisco. I yelled his name across campus and then ran at him and gave him a big hug. I had to get home to meet the bride and the bridesmaids for some planning, but I got to talk to him a little before he left (he was only here for a few hours).

He is writing for the Antioch Press and working for a record label. I said, “I am so glad that you are writing for a living.” He said, “I would not be living if I were not writing, so I suppose I am glad too.” He is the perfect example of a man who says and does only that which he deems worthy of saying or doing. I’ve never known anyone more quote-worthy.

But on the way home, I found myself crying because I realized how much I miss him. He was a solid ground during a time of crisis in my life. No matter how much sarcasm, jocularity, or arrogance he would exude, there was a warmth behind those deep, dark eyes that could never be veiled. It was a compassion and love for mankind and the world that embraces everything with which it comes into contact. And that is something I have sorely missed—especially now.

All I keep thinking about is last spring at this time. Maybe it was worse. Maybe the country was in the throws of a bigger war. Maybe I had a huge workload in school and with The Slate. Maybe I was in the middle of a highly stressful relationship between the editor and photographer.

But the feelings I remember were those of the daily fear . . . or maybe terror . . . that came with the knowledge that my brothers were at war. Every day I faced the fact that my brothers could be lying somewhere dead, wounded, or captured and I wouldn’t know. Every day I thought I may never see them again. I knew my family was going through the toughest time they have endured. All this I knew, and none of it could I do anything about.

However, this was the undercurrent. This was the real. The perception was the heavy workload and the mess at The Slate. That is what I talked about. I did not talk much about war. Sometimes I would, and I would get one of two responses: the person would not care, and seemed to hope very much that I would not want them to care and that I would not care at all either (therefore I mostly pretended I didn’t care and tried very hard to set them at ease); or they would make my problems their own, telling me how much they have prayed and fasted and worried and hoped that our troops return. I had done enough of that myself. What I needed was support. What I got were people telling me they simply couldn’t handle my problems and they wanted MY support.

Now this spring is upon us and once again I face a very similar situation. I can say that I have a difficult load and am preparing for graduation. I can say that I have few friends left here. I can say that there is stress in work and stress in learning to run a home with three other girls. I can even say that I locked my keys in the car twice in one day, have stress headaches, and stutter because I work too hard.

But the truth is the underlying tragedy. The truth is that I need a Francisco. The truth is that if I don’t find someone who is willing to hear about what happened in my life three days ago, and then to love me past all of it and into my core, that I will disintegrate and become depressed again. I hope I can remember these feelings. I hope that I learn to avoid lapsing into the common disregard our brothers and sisters hold for each other’s deepest and most secret feelings.

posted by Mary 8:13 PM

Sunday, January 25, 2004

choufan19: do you think the people we like usually like us back and that the only thing that keeps anything from happening is our inability to believe they reciprocate those feelings?
choufan19: is it that we actually cannot appreciate who God has made us to be enough to value that and to value the fact that others can actually see it in us as well?
choufan19: are we our own worst enemies when it comes to being loved????

posted by Mary 6:50 PM