The Other Present Hunger

So here it goes friend, letting the words appear on this page seems more painful than I can bear, but as I read "My resistance to pain is worse than the actual pain."  And so my fingers type

...I'm tired, no, I'm not tired, I am exhausted to the point of giving up at this perfection cycle I have been on for as long as I can remember. the "Other present hunger" within. not to eat to nourish the body, but the hunger that longs deeply inward to my core to be exactly how you, whoever you are, wants me to be.  Do you know what a pathetic game this is? Yet I the player continue to choose to get points on the board every single day.  I wake up with good intentions thanking God for inviting me into his creation by placing air inside my lungs and a foggy focused view as I open my eyes to the world outside of me.  And then it hits.  the needs of so many in my home, on the news, in my community, the messages of who i wish I were continually palying in my head. they are and all calling out in need.  I want to be all things to all of them but when after sipping through enough caffeine to get the motor running enough to fight through the madness I realize that it is a never winning battle... I give up and when I do- where for art thou oh food? Desire of my heart, love of my life? come hither to dance at your prey as you become mine....

To stop resisting the pain?  The pain that I cannot be all things to all people, and that if for an instant if I thought I could is the lion of pride itself devouring my inner being, to feel the feeling that you were not enough and that you hope to be enough every night so that you are not left again, to feel that unless I have my quoted mother's "Put your happy faces on, smile and look pretty girls!" I am nothing. my sad emotions, fearful thoughts, and anger are not valid to anyone so cover up and be who you are not.  To go back to the spot that shattered the 6th grade girl. where my beauty destroyed me. the girl who had the eyes of the boys and the silly secrets between the girls - going from top to bottom -hated, cursed, glared at, and silenced. To let go of the control AHHHHH! the control! and realize that people are not my pawns and I am not theirs and that yes there is a greater being inviting me in again and again with the in and out lifts of my chests to surrender... to letting go... to the place where food shrinks and i melt as he molds me into a whole person.  Yes this is where the inner revolution must begin.  Come Jesus for this passionate ever seeking you heart and teach me the things I do not know ...I believe- I come to give you my unbelief...This is my soul cry.