{"id":9533,"date":"2012-05-06T23:42:10","date_gmt":"2012-05-07T04:42:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/?p=9533"},"modified":"2012-05-06T23:42:10","modified_gmt":"2012-05-07T04:42:10","slug":"swinging-furiously","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/2012\/20120506-9533.htm","title":{"rendered":"Swinging furiously"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’ve always been one for wild mood swings. In high school, I remember flying high on the town one night–and then lying on the kitchen floor the next day thinking I would be better off dead.<\/p>\n

I’ve evened out quite a bit in the past dozen or so years. By the grace of God, I’ve grown more responsive to His Spirit–and less inclined to follow my emotions.<\/p>\n

But stress and sleep deprivation have a way of increasing my emotional sensitivity. Which means that I’m currently just one drop away from overflowing.<\/p>\n

So I hear something disappointing that I would normally brush off? Now I’m close to tears. I hear good news and I’m through the roof. I stop to think and I’m in the depths of melancholy. <\/p>\n

The difference between my 27-year-old-swings and my 15-year-old-swings is that my teenage melancholy had plenty of time to produce poetry and self-reflective writing–whereas my 27-year-old self barely has time to eat, much less write poetry.<\/p>\n

Nevertheless, I rifled through my notebook today and found one little bit from the past five months that might be considered poetry (actually, it’s just writing in verse, not poetry at all).<\/p>\n

My brother is getting married tomorrow
\nI had a tough day at work
\nI am single
\nOther women don’t have to work<\/p>\n

I am tempted to look at this life
\nand feel sorry for myself
\nPoor me, without anyone
\nWith only a job that drives me nuts
\nPoor me. Sad me. Woe is me.<\/p>\n

The snake sinks its fangs into my flesh
\nIts poison courses through my veins
\nPoor me. Sad me. Woe is me.<\/p>\n

And the prophet cries out:
\n“Lift up your eyes,
\nBehold the curse.”<\/p>\n

Shuddering, I lift my eyes
\nto the snake on a pole
\na Man who waited longer than I
\nwho died single and still waits for His bride
\nA Man who had a task no one could covet.
\nThe Cursed Snake upon a tree<\/p>\n

I gaze on Him, the poison drains
\nMy suffering’s small
\ncompared to His
\nMy suffering worthwhile
\nso long as I am His.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Since the day I wrote those words, my work has only intensified. My loneliness has only increased. It’s not just that I’m single, it’s that I’m alone. I feel isolated from family, friends, coworkers. I’m in a struggle none of them can grasp and I don’t have time or energy to be or have “fun”. I spend time with people, but it’s rarely heart-nourishing time. Sometimes I wonder if I have a heart to be nourished anymore, or if I’ve dumped it all into my work.<\/p>\n

The feelings that inspired my melancholy words have only grown–the poison entering my heart so it can be pumped through my veins. <\/p>\n

Do I really dare open my heart to you? I’m not sure. I wouldn’t want to poison you too. <\/p>\n

So I cover my pain with smiles and the assurance that someday this will end. Maybe in six months, a year? Then I can be again.<\/p>\n

Working to keep the pot from boiling over, working to keep you from seeing the emotion roiling beneath the surface. <\/p>\n

Now I’ve let you see.<\/p>\n

Please, please…point me to Jesus. ‘Cause when I get stressed and sleep-deprived, I have a hard time pointing myself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I’ve always been one for wild mood swings. In high school, I remember flying high on the town one night–and then lying on the kitchen floor the next day thinking I would be better off dead. I’ve evened out quite a bit in the past dozen or so years. By the grace of God, I’ve … Read more Swinging furiously<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0},"categories":[21],"tags":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9533"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9533"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9533\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9533"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9533"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9533"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}