Sigh. He really can't win. At least a quarter of what he's said to me in the last 48 hours has gotten on my nerves, which I find irritating as I know that normally the things he's saying wouldn't bother me at all. And I could easily write a ten page brief on why I should quit dating him despite the fact that earlier in the week I could not have produced one page without a good bit of stretching.
This reminds me a bit of when I was 18 (and listening to entirely too much Pearl Jam, Alanis Morissette, Fiona Apple, and Counting Crows) and on the wave of emotions that seemed to dictate each day. One day I thought my boyfriend was the best thing ever, and then the next day if he didn't show up with flowers or call when I thought he was going to....bam--I was angry or sad. Or I'd get drunk and manufacture some conflict. Drama, drama, drama. So while I'm glad those days are long behind me, I find it ironic that now I am not fighting this funk with more vigor.
Ah anyway, so here's my thoughts as written in my journal last night:
I really need to talk to God and try to submit what I don’t want to submit. And ask for help even though I clearly want to wallow in this a bit and hold onto it instead of reaching out for what He has for me, which is infinitely better and more joyous and eternally satisfying than what I’m aiming for. How can He be so incredibly patient?
p.s. I'm grateful that although in a funk, I can remember how I normally feel and not succumb to these feelings. I'm also glad for Fiji water, which I think may cure my mood.