missing

Sometimes I miss myself. I usually find myself when I start writing. When the words hit the page, I start to understand what I'm feeling. It's like my hand is relaying everything that is stuffed inside of me, everything that has been dying to get out, everything that was meant to be said. A lot of times I don't feel like I have anything to say. And I feel like nothing is really happening. Then I find that voice in my mind getting louder and louder. My inside voice, the one only I can hear. And I realize that I've reached that point where I need to let loose, whatever it is that needs letting out.

I bought my journal for the year on Sunday. It's red and I love it.

I have felt so terribly alone lately. I'm surrounded by wonderful people. Loving and caring and beautiful people. But I'm not good at sharing myself. I hate explaining. And not being known. Most of the time I talk about my kids and school. They are endless, safe topics.

So I broke my red journal in. I knew I needed to spend some time with Him. My attitude has been off.

I think when you don't have that person in your life who listens to all the silly little things, you start to lose that understanding you have of who you are. Because we don't just talk for other people to hear us. We aren't explaining ourselves to them alone. Most of the time we're talking for that voice that's inside. The one that doesn't really have words.

I love empty pages. I feel like anything can happen on them.

And it's not just the listening that we need. It's the asking. Those little questions that only people who really know you are able to ask. They're the outlet for that voice. The one that gets louder and then softer. Until you're close to losing it. And the silence almost kills you.

I forget that God understands my inside better than I do. I feel so right after time with Him. So relieved and understood. Without words. I'm really free when I'm with Him. Really alive.