A Heart Rubbed Raw

Today started off not unlike many others-laundry, music, chores around the house. Amidst the dull hum of a life busied with little necessities, I was craving something more. I'm the kind of woman who might jump on a train to New York at the last minute for kicks, or toss caution to the wind and schedule a last-minute visit home when i'm feeling bored or lonely. And so, almost without thinking I planned to hit the road. Charlottesville didn't have much going on, I had no plans until Sunday afternoon and so I thought "why not?" And of course, why not? I'm young, i'm unattached, I have literally no responsibilities or commitments besides paying my bills and showing up at work on weekday mornings.

In some ways, such a life is exhiliarating, no ties, no chains, no burdens-not physical at least. The sky is the limit. I could move to China tomorrow and the only person that i'd have to answer to about my decision is myself. And there's the rub. I'm alone, incredibly alone. In seeking to build a life of self-sufficiency, where I need no one for my own well-being, I have created a way of life that is dusty, vapid, and cold.

We were not made to live in a vacuum, and when we try to build worlds that let us pretend that such a thing is possible eventually we will hit the pavement. I finally did-hard screeching halt; brakes squealing; horns blowing. I hit rock bottom emotionally. I've been feeling this way for a while, but it's often easy to mask emotions in beautiful clothes, an attitude of poise, and a smile that pays little more than lip service. Amidst the moving masses, I've been crying inwardly for quite some time. Not unlike a few other moments in the past few months, the harsh grit of my own depravity and desperate need for community and meaning reemerged today.

I spent nearly an hour and a half on the phone with my mom this afternoon working through frustrated emotions, such as "why did I move here?" and "what in the world am I doing with my life?" only to hear back on the other end that i'd been too caught up in my own satisfaction. When I was a child, I was the do-it-yourself kind of girl. My philosophy was always make the grade or get off the bus and let someone else on. And often when I approach the business world, and my own vocation (larger terminology here than just occupation), the same holds true. There is no room for mistakes or failure, and if you fail all that's left over is a dark, silent glass room where they send the troublemakers when they've disrupted class. In having such a philosophy, i've given myself little room for mistakes, or failure, or heartbreak. And now, as I live in a still-new town that I very much still don't know and wouldn't call home, I often feel as though I've thrown myself off the bus with nowhere to go.

What am I doing here? The truth is, I don't know. We live in a world that wants you to have an answer to that question-"I moved here to find myself," or "I needed to settle down after the fast pace of big city life." Perhaps both of those things hold true to a certain extent, but they do not capture the fullness of my decision to leave DC. I left DC for many healthy reasons, but I also left because I had grown bored and wanted a new adventure. Climb the mountain, and then go for another. Surely the next one would provide more thrills than the last. But it didn't, and I'm pretty sure that if I hopped a train to Madrid tomorrow my problems would follow me.

I'm scared of commitment, of almost any shape, face, or form. I am deeply afraid of putting my heart in a place where it can become pricked, bruised, or broken. And so, I sometimes seek out places where I don't have to go deep enough to ever face such disappointments. But in being unwilling to bare my scars to others, I have prevented myself from true relationship. From pretending like I have heard it all before, have my life packaged ever-so-perfectly, and have no need for anyone else, I have prevented myself from experiencing some of the most life-giving kinds of joy. The joy of working through brokenness in community, the joy of sharing a meal with a new friend and admitting you're not sure what you want for your future, the joy of a low key evening with no expectations. These are things that I so desperately want, but am so afraid of finding, because what if I find them and the very people who share them with me turn their backs on me?

After wrestling through these things for a few hours, I went to see the film "Up in the Air" this afternoon. This movie only reconfirmed the rumblings deep within my core. I long to be rooted, committed, settled, but i'm desperately afraid that no one will want me. Being rooted means being vulnerable, and it means being willing to get hurt, tragically. What happens when disappointments come (as they surely will)? Being committed means being willing to stick with something-or someone-even when the going gets tough, really tough. Being settled means being willing to say no to bigger, and seemingly better, offers from the outside world because you've chosen a given path. "Up in the Air" touches upon all of these issues in a beautiful, poignant, and entertaining way. At the beginning of the film Clooney's take on life could be summed well by the following quote (his own words): "The slower we move the faster we die; make no mistake moving is living." However, as the movie progresses he comes to question what he's really living for; what happens after he's jumped over the last goal he ever set for himself? He can keep moving, but it will hold no meaning.

Clooney's character comes to realize that all of the things he's been running from his whole life are really the very things he needs most-community, family, relationship. He comes to see that without putting himself in the places where his heart can be truly rubbed raw, and perhaps hurt more than one could possibly imagine, he'll never truly live. I, like this fellow, fear for what might happen when I open up my suitcase and put the clothes away in a closet for good. But, i've come to learn that i'd rather live with the potential for searing pain than with my heart locked away in a cage where no one and no thing can ever touch it.