I believe that burdens are capable of blinding us from the actual truth. And because they can blind us, we can miss out on the beauty that God sets before us. I definitely experienced how utterly awful it can feel to let things build up so high that you can't breathe. In the end, I knew it was my fault, but I couldn't have learned this lesson any better any other way. In a sense, I am thankful and glad that God used my built burden for His good.
Out of fear--a fear so intense that it practically controlled me as a whole--I chose to bottle up my feelings and almost pretend they meant nothing. And I did this to my best friend. The closer I let myself get to him, the more I feared that I would ruin it all if I told him everything that went on inside of me. All I could see were bad memories, the same response, and my fear staring me in the face. It consumed me so much so that I found myself crying out to God yesterday morning for the first time in a while.
It wasn't one of those typical cries. Plus, I've hardly cried in the past few months. When I do cry, it's brief, or has something to do with my dad. But this time, it was cry out of fear. It was one of those cries where you are able to see how incredibly scared you actually are. And that was me. So afraid that I had to let it out to my God to simply say, "Please, I cannot do this to myself. Please help me." It hurt so bad in that moment yet felt so good to pour it out in that shower, as if the water represented God's love pouring down on me to cleanse me.
That same day I decided it was time I released this burden, faced my fear, and took God with me. I was entirely nervous to reveal my inner most being to my best friend, but I needed him to know that I don't want to hide how I truly feel, what I truly believe, and how much I've truly come to love him as a being and friend.
At first I shut down as he asked what I wanted to say. Perhaps for a split second I saw every bad experience from my past. All those moments I chose to spill my heart out only to be told, "I don't know what to say... I'm never going to feel that way for you." Or the words that were once told to me, "I'm never going to wake up and realize that I love you." I stuck around at that time, I went ahead and befriended a person that I accidentally grew attached to and I had no idea how to let go. But when I did, it took a divine intervention.
In that moment that I instead handed that one special person my letter of truth, I could only remember how awful it felt to be honest in the past. But he was worth it. I couldn't keep pretending like I was fine and lying to him. As he read my words on the paper, I sat there trying to remain strong and calm, trusting that God is involved, that God is behind this, and that God's got this. As I sat there, I glanced at him a few times only to find him smiling while reading it. It calmed me as I waited though.
His response in that moment was enough. He said my honesty wouldn't change things, and although I was confused as to how it all made him feel, he somehow left me with hope. That it's going to be okay this time. That together we will work on the things we struggle with, and that I still have him. I still have him to learn from and to help. I still have him around to break our walls together, and I still have him around to laugh with.
I left that day with the heaviest burden lifted off my shoulders and it was possibly one of the best feelings I've experienced after taking a risk to be vulnerable about my feelings and desires. I didn't feel rejected in any way. I felt understood. I felt like maybe he and I were simply at the same level. Not ready for the next step, but aware of our current issues to work towards it. Because whatever is to come, I know to trust that God is already there. And for now, that is enough.
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