The calm after the storm.

       Have you ever been in a terrifying storm? The kind that makes you run to a safe place and ride the storm out. The kind that leave destruction and chaos. Have you ever gone outside and seen the aftermath of the disaster? Did you think to yourself "I'm lucky to be alive?" Or did you think "this clean up will be impossible?" Were you able to look up into the clouds at the rainbow and the sun kissed sky and think to yourself " life will never be the same?" That's exactly how I feel.
         My life has been a series of storms brought on both of my own doing and some of others. I have made the storms worse and have locked myself so deep inside that the rain and wind would never touch me. After years of living in the basement, hiding from the terrible storm, I realized loneliness had taken over my mind and made me a prisoner. I was a prisoner of fear. I was afraid of the storm outside when I should have been afraid of the storm inside. I was worried people would see how weak I was, yet I was the only one hiding in my safe place while they braved the storm to help save others. They saw through my strong wall face and saw my shaken broken heart. Why was it so broken? I didn't have a good reason, but my mind did. It made up horrors far worse than the storm that had raged. My mind convinced me of the hurricane, tsunami, tornado that was coming for me when all it was turned out to be thunder and lightning. I'm not saying lightning isn't dangerous or scary, I'm saying it's not a tornado. Ashamed, I stayed hidden in the basement, in my assumed safety. Loneliness again made it's way in, which made my thunder storm more powerful. My addiction, rather by force or willingness, opened my "safe" place and made it weaker. I didn't know it, but I was completely vulnerable. Shame took over, whispering lies and false statements. I was left hopeless, ashamed, and alone. As I perceived. The storm stopped raging inside me long enough for me to look outside. The damage wasn't as bad as it seemed. I looked around expecting to see ruin and damage beyond repair. What I saw I didn't ever expect.
           My friends stood, smiling, in the middle of the muddy street. They had been in the storm waiting for me to join them. Even though their hair was messy and they were wet from the rain, they stood holding out their hand to me. Ashamed, I took their hand and started explaining the reason for my hiding. I still didn't know everything, but I knew enough. They embraced me, despite my hesitation and feelings of unworthiness. That's when I saw Him. He held out His nail scarred hands and said " come child, stay with me awhile." Feeling dirty, and shame I inched closer. A voice deep inside me said " It's not real, He can't love you, you've fallen too far." He stood, unmoved by the wind that started to pick up again. His hands still reaching for me. I know what He says, I know how He feels, but I can't forgive myself. I know freedom comes when I take His hand, but I just can't. I'm too ashamed.
            My storm rages. Will it ever end?

Liar, Liar, pants on fire, oh, wait! That's your life that's burning!

        When I met you, I started building a bridge between our hearts. With every little bit of my life I shared with you, another block was laid and cemented into the bridge. As time passed, the bridge grew bigger, longer, more beautiful, and strong. Until the day I decided to supplement the real bricks with a cheaper, less sturdy kind. In my eyes, these cheaper bricks were prettier, a better way to build a bridge with someone like you. You didn't see how bad the bricks were because they appeared to beautiful and you started including others to join in the idea of this bridge. With every new person came a new entrance and path to our bridge. I used only the cheap bricks from then on. It grew and grew and before I knew it, I could no longer see the original layer of brick. I was content keeping the secret to myself, hoping you wouldn't see that the bricks weren't as pretty as they seemed. Hoping you wouldn't find out and think that I cared less for you because of the cheap bridge I had built. You tried to introduce the perfect architect into our bridge. I fought you, knowing someone with His expertise would see right through my faulty wiring and poor beam support. You invited Him anyway, after all, it is half your bridge. It only took one step onto the bridge to start the fall out. One crack is all it took to bring the massive bridge down in flames. You looked at me, almost as if you knew the whole time that the bridge was built to fall, and said you still loved me. I wanted to believe you, but I had been here before. Our bridge, if it could ever be rebuilt, would never be the same. It would always be a reminder of history we once shared together. It would provoke feelings of sadness, grief, and even anger. No, I knew our bridge had been burnt. Maybe one day I will learn to stop building bridges. Or maybe I'll learn to use the real deal no matter what the cost. At this point, I doubt I'll ever learn. I'll just keep running. After all, there is always another ocean. I just hope this time I drown in it.