spilling my guts


Now that my self-assigned writing project is over, I'm afraid of the direction my blog may go if I write what's on my mind and heart. So I'm trying to find the balance of being authentic and not letting the Grit morph into something I don't want it to be.

That being said, I know I need to start the new year off with a good dose of honesty. Brace yourself.

Like the earth after a drought, I'm finding I quickly soak up the love that's lavished on me, and then---just as quickly---it disappears. I don't doubt the sincerity of those who love me, it's just that it all rapidly sinks deep into the parched recesses of my heart, and the rest stays cracked and dry.

I guess that means my love tank ran empty. I've been running on empty for a long time.

I feel unloved and unwanted. Worse, I feel unlovable and unwantable. I'm trying to not believe those lies, but nine times out of ten, I do.

I've been advised not to worry too much about battling my fears of co-dependency right now. Because I'm in a place where I genuinely need people and need to allow myself to rely on them. The realization of all those things pretty much overwhelms me.

But deep down, I know this much is true: I was not created to be an island. It is okay healthy for me to crave connection and community. There is nothing wrong with a season of being the care taker rather than the caretaker. (That's confusing, but let that sink in a bit.)

I'm not at all saying any of this to invoke compliments or anything like that. So please don't. I just knew I needed to be honest with where I'm at, both with myself and with you.

Thanks for continuing to care about this gritty heart of mine, and being willing to read what comes out of it. That means a heck of a whole lot.