Where is my heart?

I was hoping to write a post that wasn't about me, that was about some deeper theological concept. Or perhaps a greater more brilliant hypothetical situation with intelligent analysis. Or I could talk about specific quotes, writing a stirring encouragement to people who fulfill this this and that criteria. I had a couple good conversations today. I talked to Maddie, was silly and hung out with Lindsey, and had dinner with Alicia. But even these come back to something I discovered in counselling yesterday.

I am really good at processing with my brain. With analyzing. With retelling stories, and attempting to find meaning and sort through them. I am good at finding patterns. I am really good at figuring out what (or deciding...) what I did wrong in a specific situation. I can find fault well. I can sit in counselling and describe well, who I am, where I have come from, I can narrate specific events from my past well, and even dig into the emotions attached and appropriately affix them to my face in the retelling. That doesn't mean that I address issues and problems. (or find the solutions either)

But somewhere along the way, the brain started covering for the heart almost completely. In a way, its a defense mechanism. I don't feel Known or Appreciated here, it must be because I haven't been vulnerable enough. If _______ knew my story, or knew my struggles, or understood where I was coming from, surely they'd understand better what I am trying to communicate to them now.

I do think there is tremendous potential for great healing through the power of story. Through sharing the hardest parts of life. I just think I have learned the patterns and have bypassed the actual openness/true vulnerability for blunt honesty. I can tell it like it is really well. That doesn't mean I can tell it like it feels.

In counseling, Pam asks me to use feeling words. I'm not very good at it, which surprised me. I'm really good at saying "I feel like..." but then I finish the sentence with "what I saw was inappropriate" or "this person is wrong". Not so much "I felt abandoned. I felt hurt. I felt angry." I use "I feel" to mean "My perception was this", which leaves open the possibility that I was wrong, I took things the wrong way, which seems to show that I don't place very much validity in my own experiences. I can easily take moral relativism to heart. (Lindsey and Dustin are arguing it for Ethics tomorrow, and think it is the most ridiculous thing to say, their whole defense is somewhat mocking). Is my story just as valid as the other person's? Are my feelings important? Or are they important just so they can be voiced, labeled and put away without any expectation of change in the other person's behavior. Is that one of the things that was so appealing about Stuart? "I do what I want", no apologies, but you should talk to me, you should share your feelings, you should spill your heart, what I do with it is my business? is that an accurate view of our communication?

I don't know what my feelings are. I can do nice, I can do giggly, I can do contemplative, I can be bothered, I can probably most easily access outrage, anger and bitterness, but primarily on behalf of others. I think sometimes I project myself onto the people I try to help. I got really worked up over Nait, and her story, recently. And then I realized that she's doing alright, she has come such a long way, and she is on her way to go even further.

And I? I have come a long ways too.

And I don't know where my heart is. I know a great many things about my Jesus. And I know that I am loved. But does my heart? and what does it need in order to start feeling more Real in the ordinary things? What does healing look like? Does this really go back to Stuart (like Pam says)? Or to my father before him? Or is is this just what growing up looks like, and I just think too much? Too much thinking, not enough actual living, actual experiences?

And if my God is as powerful as he is said to be, in the Word that is Life and Light and Truth, then how then do I behave? (We read Psalm 18 Monday night, and I was somewhat overwhelmed by how strong and overpowering the description was).

Dwelling. Growing. Attempting. Messing up. Questioning. Hoping. Looking elsewhere. Trying. Asking for help.
I am His. (and what does that mean?)