It's strange to be nearly 47 years old. Really strange. How so? Well, for starters, used to when I would start yet another diet and exercise regime, each day I would look in the mirror, hoping for improvement. I have finally rounded a corner and realized, to my everlasting chagrin, that things are not getting better in the looks department. In fact, no matter how skinny (or fat) I get, I'm just getting older. Need to stop hoping for things to improve in the mirror. Not happenin'!
There are other things. I realized that most of my closest friends don't live anywhere near me. Makes me sad. There's Amanda in Headland, Alabama. There are Sherry and Lori in Chattanooga. There's Heidi in Nebraska (who has not eyeballed me in the flesh in over twenty years, which could be the reason she still loves me) and Terri in Birmingham. There's Melissa in Mobile, a college friend who loved me in spite of my crazy, impatient and temperamental nature. She was always having to forgive me!
There's wonderful Nan in Franklin. She cried with me when I was at the end of my rope there, and sat with me while I hugged myself in grief and fear.
But, after a year in this city that I have grown to love, I don't have anyone except my Stephen minister, who is very, very faithful to me. She has loved me with the love of the Lord through so many ups and downs in recent months. She's not paid a dime for the hours of godly counsel she gives me.
I have always felt like I was on a desert island. I truly love people, and by all standards am very much a people-person. For whatever reason, however, it's tough for me to make close friends. I have lots of acquaintances because, quite frankly, I would talk to the proverbial telephone pole. But acquaintances don't really care when you are sitting at home on a Saturday night, listening to the cicadas, when you would rather be at a party. They aren't aware when you wake to face another day in a silent house with only your pets to keep you company. They shouldn't care! You haven't invested in them. They don't owe ya a thing.
I have a unique habit that may (or may not) be hampering my social calendar. When I suspect that someone is about to reject me on any level at all, I flee the scene. Right quick. As in faster than a coon with a bag of chicken in his mouth. Warp speed. I have no tolerance for rejection, real or imagined. I have tried to work past this, with disastrous results. I don't like this stupid island I am on, but I don't know how to get off of it. So I decorate it with loner hobbies (like blogging), reading, cross stitch and latch hook (not knocking those pursuits, heaven knows I need them). I have tried to infuse my little island with a sense of normalcy, but the white picket fence I tried to install kept coming up out of the sand. I finally tossed it into the ocean and declared myself a loner who hates being alone.
Pastor preached a sermon today on being a "spring" rather than a "container." Just pouring ourselves out for others with no regard as to whether or not they load us up with their compliments, time, invitations. I agree with the call to selfless living and staying engaged with others. I agree with it wholeheartedly. Plan to ask God to help me to do it. Not having any local close friends does NOT mean sitting at the house anymore. Not going to do it. Can't do it anymore. Just chilling here tonight and getting some thoughts out. Get to be an old lady like me and you start to feel like it's okay to be you and to let people see who you really are.
Some things may never change. Or they might. Who knows. I gotta be alright either way.
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