I’ve just read over my post here and I realize that it is very honest and also very dark. Please know that all is well because I know God is in control. The following is me desperately trying to make sense of all the pain and needing a release. Love to you all, Gabriela
Hello friends! I have shamefully neglected to write a blog post in 5 months. This is horrible. At first I didn’t have the heart to write because December was a very difficult and painful month for me. And then 2017 hit and since then it has been full speed ahead, dealing with one thing after another, and I’ve been too busy to write.
Things are still busy, with an exhausted air of “busyness” that continues to hang over me and seems special to life in the states. Everyone is busy here. When you ask someone how things have been or how they have been, the reply always seems to be “really busy”. I’m guilty of this too and I really hate it.
America has everything unnecessary at its fingertips but when it comes to those necessary intangibles, they are nowhere to be found. In the states, you can get every material item you could want or need delivered straight to your door in under 48 hours. Does this make us happier? No. This makes us literally full of sh*t. Everything material is easily accessed and all the precious things that make a life truly worth living and dynamically beautifully are missing in action.
Very few speak the language.
I have realized lately that amidst all the busyness my heart has gone underground. As a result I’ve mistaken silent grief for “moving on”. Deep seated anger for mere “frustration” and a need to “just try harder”. I have been keeping them inside, afraid of acknowledging them because people do not know how to handle grief and they definitely don’t know how to handle anger and I am no exception. So I unknowingly condemn my very body to sickness as the grief and anger have no choice but to manifest as health issues. I think I have been successful at keeping my anger inside but I do not realize that it seeps out and hurts my husband.
Why have I waited so long to write? Somehow the written word for me carries a cathartic weight that speaking does not. My spoken words seem hallow and pointless in contrast to what I can say on a page. How strange. I must unburden myself through writing because I physically cannot bear up under the pressure of all my impressions, memories, and the subsequent strong emotions that flow with them. They literally wrack my body.
I am scared because Houston is not panning out. In Oslo when things sucked there was always the comforting thought of “well we won’t be here forever”. In Houston there is a dreadful finality for me.
I’m in a season of questioning. Questioning everything I once thought was good and healthy, it now cannot stand up to a closer, more discerning look. I thought the institutions I believed in were noble and now I see how poverty stricken they truly are. Obviously, this intense questioning is painful and scary as I do not yet have a vision for life moving forward but only disillusionment of old things that have been constant.
And I’m angry! I am angry that I cannot make this life work, everything I exhaust myself with proves pointless. It’s a “chasing of the wind.” I surrender my expectations for life in Houston. I admit to myself, finally, how much I hate it here.
I am angry about many things. My body is breaking under the sheer mass.
I am angry I have to move again in June. Moving from our rental home to the house we own.
I’m angry that I am not free to speak my thoughts and I feel the need to censor my words at the cost to my health.
I am angry that I am now more terrified of starting a family than ever.
I’m angry that I cannot travel without fear of illness.
I am angry over every lost opportunity and missed time with friends in Oslo.
I am angry at Austin’s old boss and job in Oslo that poisoned many experiences that should have been beautiful and stole many joyful moments from us.
I am angry that my body is so sensitive to food and thoughts and environment and stress, still for all my fastidious efforts, with one wrong move, I can get sick.
I am angry for all the sweet things about our life in Oslo that I cannot have anymore and so angry for all the rotten times in Oslo that could have been better.
I am angry that Houston is such a dump. It has failed me over and over and over. I’ve tried so many things here to make friends and connections and do things my whole life and now I can genuinely say it’s this place that is a bad place. I have tried and I’m done trying. I’m angry at you Houston. You are a sham of a city and your people are preoccupied with everything that doesn’t matter in life and have no time to care for themselves or each other.
I am so hurt. I feel like a small, wounded animal that needs to hide deep in the forest. To be alone. To stop putting myself out there. To stop forcing myself. To just be left alone in peace. And maybe, in time, I will heal.