Is it something that makes me, me, or is it a result of growing up in the same house for 13+ years? I don't know when it all started; I just know it felt a lot worse when I left Emory.
If you tap on my shell, you'll quickly realize, as it cracks and disintegrates before your eyes, just how much of a facade, a cold front, a defense mechanism, it all is. Really and truly, I'm fragile as heck.
I look out at Bailey Hall, knowing my attempts to labor on a presentation were futile. The tour group of incoming freshmen blur and I instinctively clasp one sleeve over my cheek to hide the hot tear trickling down. It's happening all over again. Even before I leave. Right before my very eyes.
I felt like an alien watching my friend X become close with my friend Y after I had left. As I began my sophomore year lonely and homesick for acknowledgement, I quickly learned how small the world could be. I just wasn't a part of that world.
The sinister restlessness haunted me throughout sophomore year, junior year, heck, even to this day as a soon-to-be-graduating senior. There are worlds that continue without you.
With this realization comes another, a reality more sobering - who am I to say that I'm at the center of these relationships? So what, if X and Y become close friends without me?
In the shame of positioning myself as the omnipresent relational mediator, I begrudgingly relinquish my grasp, remembering that I am not the author of my story. You ask me to walk away, and each step back is heavy, dull. Every "I wish I could have" is immediately countered by "but then you wouldn't have," so I just stay quiet and fumble for Your hand. My feet are already moving before my heart can fathom the idea of pulling myself away.
Every inkling of jealousy is forcefully shoved away with tears. It's relentless, the daily "I wish we had more time." I beg you to take the whispering voice away, filling its place with Yours. I need to remind myself of Your presence. This sea of life ebbs and flows, but my Rock is here. Forever. Always.
Don't be afraid of the tears you hide. They remove the dirt to help you see more clearly.
You give and take away as You please, and it's okay that You gave more slowly or a different amount to me. I know it is. So anchor me more closely to You, each and everyday, that I may not be buffeted by the violent waves.
It's through You that I live and move and have my being. No matter the season, whether I'm planting roots or digging them up, You remain the same.
tldr; respond to every fear of replacement with gratitude. Life is not a competition, and it sure as heck ain't about you.
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