Relationships. Uh-oh.

I've been thinking about relationships a lot lately. I feel like I've been struggling with feeling broken, discarded, forgotten, worthless, and unloved by various different people. I've been fighting with myself, because after getting hurt so many times I want nothing more than to close my heart to people, and I know that's unhealthy. I want to be this strong, solid rock that doesn't move and doesn't break. I don't want to be this seemingly lost, gullible girl that is desperate for attention. I want people to realize that I'm able to stand on my own two feet--I'm strong and independent--I just want someone to love me while I stand and catch me when I fall.

All of this heartbreak and struggling is making me wish I hadn't dated, that I'd waited to know myself a little better, and become strong through God in the first place instead of through crawling back for healing. It's made me think of things people told me when I was in junior high. Things like: wait until you're older; don't give your heart away; play hard to get (which is a load of crap in my humble opinion: it's nothing but a game. But that's for a different conversation). In the midst of all of this, I remembered a "letter" someone had given me around 6th grade.

I paid very little attention to this letter. I was a girl that thought sure, guys were cute, but I never had a serious interest in them. I was a good Christian girl and I did the "right" things. On the one hand I thought I didn't need this letter. On the other hand I didn't even know what it meant. The "role model" that had given me the letter was the same person that introduced the idea of "playing hard to get" into my mind, that told me "boys are icky," and that seemed to have some baggage herself that stood in the way of making her a good mentor in the area of relationships. Between her and my parents I didn't have a good model for dating relationships (seeing as my parents were already married. I had a good model for a marriage, though).

I stumbled through my first relationship and ended up with just a little bruising and a couple scratches. It was a learning experience that hurt really badly at first, but has healed to nothing but the tiniest scar over time--kind of like falling off a bike: it hurts when it happens, but you end up with little to no scar. My second relationship was better: we were best friends and tried to keep that foundation there. It worked until the relationship ended. At that point it became the tangled mess it seems to have been ever since. We danced around being friends, bordered on being in a sort-of relationship, fought, and just didn't have good lines and definitions for our friendship. Out of all of that, a second try at dating came into being. I thought we could make it work, even from 1500+ miles apart, but that failed.

That left me where I am now. I swore off dating. I decided I couldn't handle relationships anymore. (The bad thing is, everyone I know seems to have found their current spouse shortly after swearing off dating, which scares me for myself) I told myself that this is my time for me. And I did a good job with that. I got back into writing (which I had dropped shortly after that last relationship ended), I finally let myself shut up long enough to listen to myself, I figured out that I'd adopted all these ideas about myself from labels others had put on me, and I started setting myself straight, brushing myself off, and getting back on my feet.

I'm at a point where I don't know which way to go. I'm upright, but with the threat of a topple. I'm trying to be strong and open my heart at the same time. I'm impatient because I want someone to stand by me and that person doesn't seem to be in my life at this point. I feel like I'm playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey: I'm blindfolded and trying to find my way through a minefield.

What do you do when the person that gets you the best is the one that broke your heart, made you feel like you weren't worth the effort, and is trying to be friends again? I want so much to let that friendship happen again, because it's the most natural friendship I've ever had, but at the same time I'm gun-shy. I'm all for second chances--I've been told I have a gift for them--but when do you hit the point of no return, when risk outweighs the possible return? How do you know? How do you balance inevitable attraction with immeasurable friendship?

Yeah, I have a lot of baggage to work out. Yeah, I have a lot of problems. But I'm tired of being treated like that, like a bomb about to go off. I want honesty, I want to be myself, I want stability. I'm having a hard time finding anything that I want. And maybe that's my problem: I'm trying to hard to look and find, when I should be letting things happen when they should.

This is the letter:

Dear child of mine,

I know you long to give yourself completely to someone, to have a deep, soul relationship with another, to be loved thoroughly and exclusively. But I want you to wait until you are satisfied and fulfilled and content with Me alone. Until you discover that only in Me is your satisfaction to be found, you will not be capable of the special human relationship that I have planned for you.

I want you to stop planning, stop wishing, and allow me to give you the best. Please allow Me to bring it to you--you just keep pursuing Me. Don't be anxious or look around at the things I've given others or the things you think you want. You just keep looking to Me, or you will miss what I want to show you. When you're ready, I'll surprise you with a better love than you can imagine.

You see, I am working even this minute to have both of you ready at the same time. Until you are both satisfied exclusively with Me, you won't be able to experience the love that exemplifies your relationship with Me. I want you to have in the flesh the everlasting union of love that I offer you with Myself. Know that I love you utterly. I am God Almighty, your loving heavenly Father.

Love, God