Fake

One of my favorite tshirts is a Joy Whitlock shirt that has FAKE written across it (in honor of her fabulous album). Tonight I feel like I need to wear that shirt.

I'm trying to put together a workshop application and as I try to put together clever words to convince the people that yes, I really do belong in the workshop, all I can think of is how fake it is. How fake I am.

Wahoo. I want to write and do all this great stuff, blah blah blah. I'm so freaking great. Blah blah blah. Doncha just love me?

Here's what I should be saying: Hi, I'm a messed up mess of a person who harbors delusions that I could actually be a writer, and I'm thinking I'd like to attend your workshop to find out. However, I'm quite scared that if I do attend your workshop, you'll expose me for the fraud I am, or at least send me off home to find something more meaningful to do, like scrub my kitchen floor.

Nah. I just sent off my chirpy, "I'm so great," garbage, and I'm putting it in God's hands. If this is what He wants for me, it'll happen. Otherwise, I'm holing myself up in my room and doing whatever I want. HA! I whined as I also stressed and quickly got my Genesis entry sent off tonight. Yep. It's all about tonight. Did I mention today was also our home group's seder (delayed, but still good)? Why does my universe all have to collide on April 15th?

I started a really whiney email to my crit group, but decided I sounded way too depressed and figured that if people read it, they'd be watching a little too closely for comfort. The truth is, I'm tired of working hard to fit into all these silly little molds. And I'm tired of failing. God didn't create me only to have turn contortionist and become something I'm not. Or maybe I've just been in my heroine's POV too long. Nah.

Mostly I think I'm back in the weird place I always end up at. I've spent my whole life wondering where I belong, and just when I think I've comfortably found that place, I'm reminded that it's not the place at all. So here I am. Back to the point where I'm starting to realize that the place I thought I belonged is not the place I belong. Which makes me wonder what the whole point of this exercise is.

The reality is that this is not my reality. To close the seder, I read Revelation 21:1-4 and talked about how, even though we have our Messiah, there is still a home, a promised land, we are longing for. A reunion with our Creator and our Savior. I seek, but I do not find, because it is not for me to have in this lifetime.

I live in this state of longing, and it seems so far from ever being fulfilled. Am I fake, or am I delusional, in all these attempts of finding satisfaction where there will not be any?

Okay, I just spent another paragraph doing a rather fine job of whining some more. I rather excel at whining. But I deleted it and spared you all. Wahoo me. I guess, even as real as I try to be in my blog, I'm still a pretty big fake.