Mistakes

In my eighteen years, I've made mistakes...of course. Everyone has. But I'm learning new things about mistakes and how they affect me. I'm learning to take something from them and apply it to my life now. I'm learning to apologize and be a better person. I'm learning to be me.

My mistakes have taught me more than my triumphs have taught me. I'm not saying that I'm glad I've made mistakes. I don't think I'll ever be glad that I've made mistakes. That's not something to be happy about or proud of. Still, they're part of my knowledge and learning.

Explaining how important my mistakes are to me seems strange, but it really is important. It's also a lot harder than I had imagined. Without them, I wouldn't be the person that I am today. I wouldn't comprehend a lot of things in life. Know that being able to understand some things in life isn't necessarily a good thing.

I've taught myself more than anyone else has because I've made so many mistakes. I've forced myself to "learn the hard way" too many times. Yet, sometimes, that's the only way that the stubborn learn. Trust me. It sticks when you learn a lesson the hard way.

So, what do I regret most? Hurting people. There are so many people that I need to apologize to. I have gotten the courage to apologize to some of them, and I've been proud of myself. I've swallowed some pride, and I've done what needed to be done. Still, some I haven't said anything to because I never really gave them a chance in the first place. I could blame that on many things, but in the end it all comes down to it being my fault.

I've been an idiot, but I'm not sure that I'd trade my mistakes for the correct choices. For one, I wouldn't be the same person, and for two, I needed to learn a lot of these things to knock myself down a couple of notches. I needed some humility or rather a lot.

Whether this went anywhere or not really isn't the point. The point is I'm far form perfect, I've made way too many mistakes in this life, but at the same time I needed them to teach me to be me. Thanks mistakes for giving me lessons even if it was a little hard sometimes.

The Secret

I could easily tell you my secret on this simple blog. I could easily explain to you every intricate detail. But, for fear of who may see, for fear of who may ask, I dare not share it. Not here, not now.

I could tell the world and later, deny it. No one would really care much anyway, unless they just dreamed of being confused. Who dreams of that? I guess someone with the same secret that I have could have those dreams. After all, what is our life but one big pile of confusion?

I've been told that it would be better to get this secret out into the open. I've been told to open the doors and let the sun shine in on this secret. Still, I've kept it in the dark, no matter how much pain it has and will cost me. I've kept this secret for myself. Why burden more people with this? Are there not enough people burdened by this secret, some with my secret?

No, no else can know. I must keep this inside, even if it kills me, and it could I suppose. I know I have a breaking point. At some point, I'll reach it. At some point, my secret will be exposed, and I will break down completely. Someone will help. There's always someone; but, for now, this is my secret, my deepest, darkest secret. No one can know.

It's possible that I'll get better all on my own, but it's not very likely. I don't believe that it will happen. This, this secret, is my thorn in the flesh. I cannot worry someone else with my problem. It's my secret, it's my problem to deal with.

Don't worry. I'll be okay. Just trust me. I know the secret, and it's very likely that you do not. I carry the burden, and I have, unfortunately, laid part of the burden on others. I apologize for that. You didn't need that on top of the many problems you probably already have in life. I should have kept this to myself because it's my secret, and it's not yours to worry about.

STOP

“When will this stop? How long will I continue to hurt? How long will I play this part? I can’t do it much longer. I can’t watch everyone around me find happiness while I simply sit here and pretend to be happy for them. Honestly, I can’t be happy for them. I’m too jealous of what they’ve been given. Why do they get that gift? Why am I always left out in the cold? Why am I always the odd man out?

"Did you plan my life this way? Is this some kind of sick joke? When will the pain stop? I can’t do this anymore. Watch me fade to from the brightest colors to the dullest of grays. Watch my smile turn to a frown forever, and watch as my eyes forever produce tears and only show sadness. Watch me fall apart and never put the pieces back together. Is this what you want? Is this what you need? This is sick! How could you just stand there and watch this happen? I just don’t understand…

"You see the pain in my face more than anyone. You see my soul through my eyes, but you don’t even have to look there. You know what I need, what I seek after, but you just won’t give it to me. Apparently, I’m just not good enough. Apparently, I don’t deserve it. Please, just say something so I know I’m not speaking to nothing.”

That’s when I heard your voice. Maybe it wasn’t audible like I imagined, like I thought I heard, but I understood every word, every syllable. “Oh how I wish that I could give you everything,” you whispered. “Oh how I wish I could step in and bring you back, but something is stopping me.”

"What could possibly stop you?” I ask in wonder.

"My child, you are stopping me. You won’t let me in. You won’t let me help you. I could quench your thirst, heal your brokenness, and make you new once again, but you just won’t surrender. You keep everything. You store every message, every word, every deed in it’s own little place. You never forget though you may forgive. I have so much to give you, so much to show you, but you refuse to permit me entrance into your heart.”

“Oh, so you do know about everything?” I whispered. “Then, you must understand why I can’t just give it all away.” My voice began to get stronger. “That stuff – those words, those messages, those deeds – they’re part of me! I would be like ripping part of myself away forever.”

"I know it must seem like that, but—“ “

"No!” I didn’t even let you finish. “It is like that. You’re asking way too much. I know I’m carrying more than I have to. I know I’m keeping more than I should, but how can anyone ever rip apart their own heart? That would be like suicide….”

Gently, you reached down and wiped away the angry tears that had begun to run down my cheeks. Tenderly, you touched my chin and lifted my eyes to yours. I couldn’t look at your eyes though. They were too perfect, too powerful, too holy, too…deserving.

“If there was any other way, don’t you think that I would show you? The last thing I want to do is hurt you. And I know it must seem like you’re giving everything away, but you’re giving these memories and wounds away for everything. This hurt, it’s nothing compared to the joy I could give you if you would just let me help you and take you away from this awful place. You’ve made your own mind into your personal prison cell.”

I looked around me, and He was right. I saw the dark walls and the hard, cold, steel bars that are always associated with a prison cell. Funny how I’d never noticed them before. Or perhaps it was just sad. My hurt, my sins, everything wrong that I’d ever done or had done to me had become these walls and these bars. The walls were like movie screens that played each awful memory over and over; and the cell bars were like still images of these terrible moments. I was surrounded, choked. I saw it crystal clear now! How had I not seen this before? How had I let my life become this place?

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I was able to look back to his face, not because I deserved to, not because I’d earned it; but because I finally saw how very much I need him. With tears streaming down my face, I looked at him with understanding in my puffy, tear-swollen eyes. I knew what I must do.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I found the room to be a blank white. It was no longer a prison. It was just empty; but he was still there. I noticed that he was crying, but he wasn’t looking at my face. He was looking down at my hands. My eyes followed his down to my open palms. There, in my hands, lay this beat up, ancient-looking box. Though it wasn’t an extremely large box, it still felt heavy as I let it continue to sit in my hands.

I never questioned what the box was. I knew as soon as I saw it. It was every last detail that had become my own personal prison. It looked harmless when put in this old box, but I knew that it was still the most dangerous thing that I had ever laid my hands on.

I couldn’t look at it any longer. It was making me sick. I had to get rid of it. I had to let go.

All this time, he simply waited patiently, watching me as I looked at the deadly package that lay in my open hands. It could have been hours or days or maybe just a few minutes. I’ll never know; but, I watched as my hands shook. I watched as they listened to my brain’s commands. And I watched as my two fragile hands placed this awful box into his two powerful ones.

I don’t know what happened to the box after that. I didn’t really see it after I laid it into his waiting palms. It could have simply disappeared, or maybe he quickly destroyed it. Either way, I don’t care because it’s gone. It can’t haunt me again.

After the infamous box was gone, I breathed in…deeply. I breathed in and felt relief for the first time in a many months. It was relief to feel the air fill up my lungs, letting me know I was still living. Then, he smiled and took my hands in his. I just let his scarred hands hold mine and give them meaning again. Finally, he simply hugged me and said, “Move on. I love you.”

As long as I let my Jesus save the day every time, this won’t ever have to happen again. I can simply stand up again when I am pushed down. Of course, it won’t be by my power, but by his. He’ll actually pick me up and dust the dirt of my clothes and send me on my way once again.

I let go. Now, I can live. Now, he can have my life because I’ve chosen to give him control. I’d simply lose control again, but I don’t ever have to worry about a wreck in my life since he has the controls. It’s nice to know.