Friday night, on my way home from work after the longest two weeks of my life, I ran into my ex-boyfriend on the bus. This was… unpleasant, to say the least. Actually, while he talked to me, asking me questions about my life, I felt my face getting hot and worried that I was blushing. I also felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes and worried that I was going to start crying in front of him.
This was not how I had planned to see him again. I would have preferred that I was at a fabulous restaurant with a fabulous boyfriend/fiance/husband and that he was alone and rejected. That’s the meanness in me coming out, and I apologize. But the truth is, this man hurt me more than just about anyone in my life. When he broke up with me, it made me feel small and inadequate, not good enough to make him like me.
Seeing him again was not something I had planned for my evening. And, even though, it’s been a year and a half since we broke up, seeing him again brought back all my old feelings of inadequacy. Or, rather, brought them back up to the surface from where they’ve been lurking just a few inches down. You see, I feel inadequate most of the time. I feel like there MUST be something wrong with me. Otherwise, I would not be thirty years old, watching thirty-one rapidly approach with no husband, no children, and not even the prospect of a husband and children on the horizon.
I don’t even have the excuse that I’ve been concentrating on my career or on serving the Lord. I have no degree, a job but not a career, no car, no savings. I am essentially a loser, just a breath away from living at home with my parents.
I know that God is good, that Jesus has something he wants to do with this life He has given me. I worry, though, that I am squandering it. That I am not paying attention to what he is trying to tell me. I worry that I’m going to wake up one day and my life will have been wasted. How have I come to this place? And, more importantly, how do I get out of it?
I have no idea how to answer these questions. I feel like I’m floundering and I don’t know what to do from here. It’s been a bad weekend, and I don’t see how the coming week is going to be any better. The thought that another year is over is depressing.
So, on that note, cheerio. Happy New Year.
Diary of a Fangirl 