For awhile now, I’ve been thinking through what this blog really is and how much personal information should be included here. Mostly, I’ve tried to be honest without airing all of my dirty laundry online. However, I’ve mentioned Dirtbag Jason several times here, and from some of the comments people have been leaving (or even verbally offering up in real life), I’m starting to think that my story with Jason is one that can help people.
SIDE NOTE: I’m starting to think that relationships with men are the constant threat to most (not all, of course) women’s spiritual health. I have a theory about why that is, but that’s a later post.
The story I’m about to tell you is one that changed everything about who I am, how I relate to men, and how I relate to God. I’m going to give you bits of narrative I wrote down just a few months after things ended with Jason. I’m going to take excerpts from journal entries and give you the honest truth about this HUGE fall in my life and how it affected my relationship with God. That being said, I’m being ridiculously vulnerable by posting this. I haven’t talked openly about this with very many people, and I don’t think I’ve really given anyone the entire story, so PLEASE be gentle with me.
There is no denying it. The past several months of my life have been less than I’ve come to expect of myself. There wasn’t anything I could really point out and say, “That’s what’s wrong with me.”
I continued to work and go to school. I made sure that my friends knew their value in my life. I told my family that I love them and I read my Bible and prayed every night. However, what I prayed every night changed dramatically. I stopped saying, “Thank You, God, so much for today and everything You do for me.” I stopped praying for God to “keep my family and friends happy and healthy and safe.” I took what was once a daily 15 or 20 minute conversation with God, and turned it into a 5 second plea:
“Just pull me through this.”
“How many girls have you slept with?”
“23,” he said. It was the same number as his age. He knew that he wouldn’t be adding me to that number ever, and he seemed okay with that. We’d talked about my faith several times, and he admired me for it – or so he said.
The next question I asked was so painful, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Did you love any of them?”
He waited several seconds before answering. “Yes.”
We both knew that he didn’t love me and that I wanted him to.
“Were they prettier than I am?” I asked.
I did my best to make him love me. I bought tickets to see Chicago the musical. I left cute notes at his door. I bought him chicken and stars soup when he was sick. I doted and adored and helped. All I got from him was the occasional, “You look hot.”
I knew the whole situation was something I needed to get out of. However, if I’d known how far I’d fallen, I’d definitely have ended things sooner than I did. I’m thankful that it only lasted three months. I know it could have been much worse, and definitely would have been if not for Friend Callista.
She had seen Jason a few times, and knew he was dangerous. It wasn’t until Valentine’s Day that she knew exactly how dangerous.
It isn’t a night that I really like to relive, but I will say that I started the night with a date, and ended it alone. Callista tells me that I’ve never looked so miserable in all the time we’ve been friends.
I didn’t think I was miserable, and misery is such an intense emotion that a person can’t possibly escape knowing that she’s miserable… right?
…I’ve been in turmoil over my relationship with God ever since the Jason ordeal.
…He never earned a spot in my life. He never even really showed interest in God, and yet I managed to convince myself that I could make him awesome.
…It brings me to tears to think of the person I am today.
…I’m trying so hard not to lose hope right now.
… No one knows No one knows. No One Knows! This thought is the one that bothers me the most. No matter what I tell people, they somehow manage to believe that I’m okay. They don’t realize that I’m a big fake.
…I wish someone would just see me for the lost, scared little girl that I am. I wish someone would force me to be comforted. I wish they would see my loneliness and wrap me in their arms. I’m afraid that I push people away, but I want someone who refuses to be pushed away. I don’t KNOW WHAT I WANT.
…I’m not me anymore.
…I need to regain control of things.
… I think I need to find something fulfilling. That’s sort of what softball was for me, then Jason, now nothing.
Today at church, Andy did a teaching that truly touched me. It was about the parable of the lost coin and how precious we are to God… One of the things that really struck me was that you can be precious and still be lost.
I want more.
I want better.
… I had forgotten what it feels like to be convicted.
…Romance is difficult to think about. The wounds of my past make me distrust guys and they make me feel impure… Heal my wounds.
God – Why does everything suck so much?
…Why don’t I have anyone to care about me? Why are You keeping me from having a husband? I’m sure You’re prepping us or something, but I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of being my own spiritual leader… Why can’t I be a girl? … Why did You create me with this need for a man only to keep me from having a husband? …I love You, but I resent You… Why am I alone? Why’d You make me so distrustful? Why can’t I trust people enough to give myself to them?
… I’m alone.
.. I’d somehow forgotten how You love me. I’d forgotten that I’m beautiful to You, and that I’m created in Your image.
…Through softball, romance (or lack thereof), sin, teaching, and loneliness, there’s been You. I would not set aside the love of my God for riches or love, or power, or even peace. I believe that you’ve put me in this place, this station in life for a reason.
Even when I’m closest to You, I can’t appreciate the depth of what You did for me.
Today, it seems like every girl I talk to has a Jason in her past. Some of them are decent guys, and very few of them reach Dirtbag status as epically as my Jason did (I haven’t given you the whole story, but I assure you that he was a dirtbag, and would admit it if we asked him – he not only cheated on me and many before me, but he also destroyed more than one family, squandered financial blessings, and even spent some time in the big house. Definitely a dirtbag…).
Jason hurt me. He HURT me.
I hate saying that. I hate these lowest moments of my life when I didn’t get it – when I so blatantly misunderstood my Creator, but maybe tracing through the years of ANGST and by reading the GROANINGS of my heart as God worked on me will help. Maybe some of my other readers are trying to figure out their own dirbags, and just need to know that God does change us – maybe not in the ways we’d like Him to, but in the ways that are best… in the ways that are pure beauty and grace. He certainly did that for me.
If only Dave had known who I really was when I walked through those Sov. Grace doors that first time 🙂