No Longer Lost

The GBE is a group of bloggers who write on an agreed upon topic each week. This week it is “Alone”. Here is mine. It’s another part of my story…even if you are not particularly religious, I hope you enjoy it. It really happened. I’ll never forget it.

The young woman arrived in a new place so different from where she grew up. There were trees, there was snow sometimes. It looked like a beautiful Christmas card as she drove up to HER new place. Wow. She was here. She’d wanted to be here, ever since she was a small girl living in the Texas heat. She’d visited Asheville and fell in love with the Blue Ridge Mountains; the granite and sparkling mica rocks, the crisp air and the fall leaves, the smell of the early fall morning fog. It felt like home, as no other place had.

She’d been on her own for some time. She wasn’t particularly happy with where her life and her choices had taken her so far. She felt like she was living in a walking shell of anger. Always waiting to explode. So alone in her thoughts. She would only share versions of herself. Never the real thing, because that was just too ugly. She carried the scars of bitterness and self deprecation wherever she went. Anyone who tried to use her, was justified. Because she knew that there was inherently something wrong with her. There must be for those things to keep happening to her. But also because men thought it was okay to ask her for things. Things only prostitutes do. It was the only thing she felt she could do well. Sex. And she would. Do them.

Then, at work, someone noticed something inside her she never saw. Value. This person took the time to introduce her to another girl at work that lived near her. When they met she felt all her scars, and shrunk back inside at the obvious happiness and bright joy this new friend exuded. It was fascinating and horrifying all at the same time. It highlighted to the young woman, how different she was. She showed her the “strong, successful” persona. Pretended to be bright and happy herself.

Later that day, she went to her new home. A little furniture, quiet. Her answering machine empty. She settled in for an evening alone and when a couple of people did call…she shrank back from answering them. She never understood exactly why. This was her cave right now, and she wanted to be alone. Sometimes it was exhausting to be outgoing. She wanted to be alone every bit as much as she wanted to answer that phone and feel the contact. She wanted that. But she felt so faulty. Sometimes, it paralyzed her.

She’d always answered if it were one of the men though. Always. They always wanted something sexual from her, and she always provided. Sex had become something she just did without thinking; without feeling. She’d become hardened to it. It made her feel powerful and needed. Afterwards, she felt empty and worthless. She never acknowledged the after. It was her life. She’d come here reaching for a new life, but her old one followed her here. And she felt helpless to change that. She was this way and this was all she’d ever be. Happiness was something so foreign to her..even in the best relationships, she’d always felt like a part of her heart was broken. Only able to feel to a certain point. Never able to fully warm up. Never able to see past her scars to them. Her viewpoint was rarely hopeful and she firmly believed that anything that seemed good would not last. And it didn’t. Of course she was partly responsible for that. And the negative voices that plagued her would use that against her too.

But she allowed this new friend in. She found herself agreeing to things that made her cringe inside. Agreed to go to church with her. She hated churches. Hated the fake people, the polyester and slicked back hair. The judgmental ladies that saw through her façade and into her wounds and made her more acutely aware of them. She’d already been to some others. The first, like the ones at home…but there were portraits of black cardinals on the walls. She’d never seen that. Cool. She was told that perhaps she would be more comfortable at a church in Chapel Hill. This one was primarily African American, but perhaps they could be multiracial. With ONE? She left there astonished that such things existed. She’d seen the movies and read stories. She’d even seen picket lines at one job interview she’d gone on and worried whether or not she’d be hired because of her race. But this was church. Defeat.

She went to another one and not even the different coworker that invited her, said hello. She went in and out. Watched the people talking to each other. Watched the friendships around her and was envious. Hated that time in the service where you had to greet your neighbor. What if no one reached back? She wanted to just sit there and disappear. They did reach out -- sort of. There was a brief, limp contact of hands, with no eye contact and mumbling something about peace. No one would look at her. In this crowd of people, she felt invisible. It was comfortable and uncomfortable all at once. Thank goodness that moment in the service was over. She left without coming in contact with anyone. Not even her coworker.

Then she went to the church the bright, joyful girl invited her to. She arrived with trepidation. No stained glass. Was this really a church? There was that girl coming in from the parking lot. It wasn’t actually her, but it was too late to back down at this point. This girl had that same open, bright look. This one smiled, said hello and walked her in. Then, rather than uncomfortably looking around to see who she could leave her with, she sat with the woman. Introduced her to others. She treated her as if she were a weary traveler who had just come in from the desert needing nourishment and water. It made the woman feel strange. It was surreal. Who WERE these people? There seemed to be happiness all around. How alien. There were different people everywhere. The music wasn’t formal and proper like she’d known growing up. Some of it was African. Some was from the radio, and some was evidently written by the man leading the music. She realized again how different she was. She felt like an alien again. But this time, it wasn’t because anyone couldn’t look at her. It wasn’t because women sized her up as competition or not. It wasn’t because lustful husbands wondered what she’d be like in bed or couldn’t stop looking at her chest, even around their wives. It was because of their joy. She wanted that. But didn’t believe she could have it.

She’d seen churches before. Full of people who were one way on Sunday, and different throughout the week. She waited. She watched them like a hawk. She went to things. Then she would stop because it was overwhelming. But it was also a test. Would the happy people disappear? She kept searching for the chink in their armor. To see the hypocrisy surface. It was a year and a half later before she trusted anyone there. It was a year and a half hearing about God before she had enough hope to begin to reveal who she was..really.

And here she was on the snow, crying and curled up like a fetus. Spewing that ugly black hatred for men she’d been carrying around. It was here on the snow, that all her hatred for her father, the scars left from the abortion, the sex with strangers, the horrible things she’d heard about herself and thought about herself, came out. All that separated her from everyone else. And no one shied away. They listened, even though she was fierce when she was angry. She was taller than these women, yet they were unafraid. They were outside with her and they were cold. Yet they faced her demons with her. The listened without judgment. Some even had knowing looks. Looks that showed empathy. No disgust. No anger. Her hope grew. She got up with her shattered, broken heart and went inside with these women. For the first time ever, in all her 25 years, she didn’t feel alone anymore.