I'll get by...

Why is it that sometimes when something is right it feels so wrong? I've been running at a zillion miles an hour and I reached the edge of something...something steep and it was either turn around or jump and wish for the best.  Well, I jumped.  As I'm falling there are so many thoughts buzzing through my head faster than the wind through my ears.  There's the "why am I so stupid?" thought.  The "I could have turned around" thought. The "how the heck is this going to end?" thought.  God, please let me have a soft landing, I'm not sure I could live through breaking again.

Regaining an Identity

Well hello there, Elizabeth here.  Elizabeth, Liz, Libby, I've been called all of those names but who am I really? The question seems so simple and commonplace.  A nickname is nothing more than that, right? Or is it? In some ways I feel like each name is an alternate version of me.  Do the people who know Libby really know Liz? The people who have known Liz have never met Libby.  And what about the people who had Liz, and are suddenly getting Libby? What are they to think? What are they going to expect? And is there really a difference? Which side of this multi-dimensional self are all  these people getting? And which side of me am I getting? Which one of me is the real me, and how do I decide? Libby did some bad things in her time, but hasn't Liz, too? Never before have I decided who I actually want to be, nor have I ever really identified ME the way I want to be known. My parents made a good choice, naming me Elizabeth.  Biblically speaking, Elizabeth was Gods chosen one.  Geez, sometimes I don't feel very chosen at all.  So how do I figure it out?  How do I reconcile all these different versions and land on one that calls me by the name I truly am? I am Elizabeth, but I won't make everyone call me that...people are lazy.  Maybe I'll just be El. Or maybe that is pure laziness.  I know my identity is a child of Christ, a follower of him...and my middle name is Christine.  Maybe my parents knew when they looked at me for the first time what I cannot grasp in this moment.  Then again, what is a name, really? I don't think it is exactly the literal name that I battle with...it's the identity I've formed and attached to all of these possibilities.  The Libby I was, and the Liz that I became are two different people entirely.  The question is, who am I know? A combination of both? Or maybe a better version of the two? An Elizabeth.

Miserable Failure

God, I've been failing so miserably. I've grown into an apathy all of my own.  Settled in like a warm blanket, but this blanket is not doing me any good.  Knick by knick I chip away at my own canvas, as if struggling to reach some unknown goal.  Drip by drip of my own blood brings me farther from where I'm trying to go, yet I continue.  A little more shame bubbles up each time a bandage comes off, revealing a dismal progress that is far from satisfying.  Maybe I'll never be satisfied.  Maybe this is the natural state of things....an innate inability to fix oneself. God, why am I such a mess?