Sunday, January 31, 2010

Lost

Losing a folded piece of fake leather with a few bucks and some plastic cards inside shouldn't be so devastating. People lose wallets; wallets get lost. Just like wedding rings, cell phones, car keys, or chapstick-- we exert so much energy keeping track of such "valuables" that the moment we realize they're gone, a nagging feeling of defeat washes over us. Or at least, that's how I remember it.

It's awfully ironic I lost my wallet last night. My wallet protects much of my identity: my driver's license, my school ID, my debit card, my membership cards, my expired temple recommend, my $15 dollar gift card to Cinemark Theaters... For last night also happened to be a night I faced other identity woes and discretely wiped away silent tears in the back of a car full of friends.

As you've probably noticed from careful readings of my blog, I fall into the pit of self-pity, the den of despair! the grotto of grief!! about once a month (hence, me posting once a month). I would be lying if I said I didn't have days in between when I'm emotional, sensitive, bitter, angry or jealous, but every 4.5 weeks I am routinely bludgeoned by "Dark Day:" a period of roughly 24 hours when I am reduced to an inconsolable mess of emotions, upheld by frail and wobbly limbs, keeping me sustained just enough to wallow in my own suffering. Last night might've brought a lighter shade of "Dark Day" (maybe a charcoal, even an ash gray), but this morning I'm still weak, still recovering slowly.

My identity is so strained. I feel downright exhausted from stretching myself so thin-- I still keep a toe here and a toe there, but the here and there are growing further and further apart. I want them both, but can't commit to either. I find myself running in circles, finding a resolve, loosening my grip on that resolve, and eventually abandoning it all together.

I've lost desire and motivation to keep commandments-- I have managed to skip church two weeks in a row and yesterday I drank a latte. I'm still unequivocally in love but hate myself for getting in his way, for being the source of much of his pain, regret and sorrow. I've lost my faith in so many things, and as a result, have lost such balance. I've lost touch with wonderful friends but have lost interest in rekindling their friendships. I've lost sight of Jesus, and now, I've lost my wallet.

If you don't hear from me for a couple days or weeks, it's because I've boarded Oceanic Flight 815, and if all goes according to plan, I've gotten myself perfectly lost on an isalnd free of expectations (but certainly not free of mystery, intrigue and adventure!). I've started over.