Out with it, out.

Here I am.

3rd of June.

When people tell you about how they'd gone through trials, the pain, the lessons learnt- the confusion, the doubts, the spiritual attacks, the shame, the guilt, the burdens, the oppression-

When people tell me, I doubt. At least, I used to. C'mon. You're being dramatic. But of course God will forgive you. But of course you shouldn't have. Why did you? It was so obviously wrong. Yes, yes, everything's fine now. Just let it go. Don't be so dramatic.

That was what I'd be thinking, around... a year and a half ago.

Things happened.

The car crash. I don't remember feeling that scared before. I couldn't even recognize it as fear at the time. It was paralyzing. My heart stopped feeling, almost. It was as though nothing bad happened- I was normal. I could even laugh about it. Said thank God aloud. Told my siblings everything was fine. Said I was sorry.

It was not until two hours later that I started crying, next to my sister, in bed, as my parents sorted out everything for me downstairs.

In a way this got me ready for Nigel. May 24th. June. That Monday. October 6th. October 10th. November. Those days I struggled with myself.

I only remember the dates for what happened in May & October.

Today, 3rd June.

Gradually I've come to appreciate how you just can't control certain circumstances. How limited you are. How you don't know things. How you know things, but can't do them anyway.

When you already know something so very well, and yet take action against that knowledge, what do you call it? An inability, or a rebellion? I could not do anything about it, or, I would not do anything about it?

With every significant date that passed, my tendency to wave off people's testimonies have diminished. I don't know how much of that tendency I have left. It's not all gone. But it's small.

I disregarded Marissa Griffin's testimony about how she rebounded from a great trial in her life. When she was ten, one of her parents committed sexual immorality. The entire church sort of broke apart. No one accepted them. Half of her siblings left the church. Fighting & unhappiness dominated the house. These are all words. I heard them, I listened. I felt for her- but only a little. She told of how difficult it was, but she ended up choosing to love God. God made all things well for her. God turned that fiasco into something that created a beautifully strong character in her.

Growing up in church, I hear things like that all the time. On a weekly basis, even. I am not able to fully appreciate testimonials. When people testify, & others applaud and shout hallelujah or something cliche sounding, I am rarely affected much. I don't think badly of them, and I don't say they're being dramatic. I don't think anything negative, usually. But I don't appreciate what they've gone through.

Recent years I've wondered, what's wrong with me. Why is it that I can only appreciate a testimonial when someone's dead, or saved from death, or some fantastic miracle has happened. When someone just praises God for something vague, I don't think much about it.

Now I'm thinking, it's probably something so much more personal & wonderful, they can't share it with the whole church.

Some have been delivered & set free at camp, I know. They focused on liberating church members, on repentance. On committing themselves to God.

I did not join them. I am not that much of a hypocrite. While others repented, I was struggling to make myself repent. I did not want to be speaking empty words- What use are those when you're talking with God Himself? He knew everything.

Thank God, He knew everything. I did not have to clear up the mess in my head & heart to be able to let Him know. I tried, perhaps. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. If God had to wait until I was able to tell Him everything before He could work, I'd go crazy, because I couldn't tell Him everything. I barely knew what was going on myself.

Many left the camp renewed & refreshed- I didn't. But my dependance on God was clearer to me, even if the struggle wasn't over.

A load of seemingly empty words up there. I'm tired now, physically, mentally, emotionally. I just have to let something out. I feel like deleting everything up there, but I won't. I have to remind the future me of what happened. I'll try to. Experiences like these are precious.

It's not an excuse. Excuses are dangerous. And I know that. There was a lot I could have said, but I did not, because I don't want them to be seen as excuses.

Thinking back, whether or not I'd still make the same mistake- No, the same decision- knowing what was going to happen, I think, of course not. Because I'd already know what would happen.

But there's nothing of value there. When I don't do something because I don't want to be caught at it, I learn nothing but how to avoid punishment.

If I hadn't known what was going to happen- well, no use talking about it. I definitely would do what I have done.

I regret. And yet I'm thankful for the mistakes I've done.

It sounds twisted. The fear I'd felt, there were moments when I'd actually enjoyed the adrenaline. Should I hate myself for that? And yet most of the time I was breathing hard, trying not to faint, or scream or run off, or do anything stupid that would let Nigel down.

Oh, that boy. If for nothing else I'd have been thankful for his parents for the guy he is now. He isn't perfect. He has his strengths, & he has his flaws. Flaws I sometimes cover up with excuses, because I become infatuated so much. I love him. Any other guy I'd have committed & given myself so much to, I would have loved as much. People doubt, & it makes me doubt. I'd experienced nothing to confirm that this was love, & not some besotted desire for affection.

But those dates came. Like hurdles. Like storms.

Problems are never as big as when the sin is your own. Marissa Griffin- I think, whatever the pain she went through, her mother went through worse, because she was the bearer of the sin, the cause of all the misery. She had no one to blame but herself, nothing to shift the attention to. This is only a theory of mine. I wouldn't know, since I only feel my own emotions, & not others. But it's likely. It's logical.

I almost digressed.

I came home feeling scared to see Nigel, because- shallow as it is- I haven't hit my target weight. He'd be disappointed. Maybe like me a little less. I don't like him looking straight at me sometimes because I feel ugly. I cry, I faint, under pressure.

He loves me still. He said so. Not only words. To be able to still say them, again and again, after each painful episode- That took guts. It really does. When everything would go nice and fine for him if only he'd just break up with me & never see me again, and yet he doesn't, instead being stubborn about being with this girl who isn't really worth keeping- When people don't see that he loves me, minus the feelings & infatuations, I wish I could tell them what we go through. I'm tempted to tell them that, but without the details, they'd just disregard it as I disregard some of the testimonials that I'd heard. What could Carmelia have gone through to be that sure?

I'm not 100% sure. No one can be, no one will be, apart from being sure of God's love. We're only human. & I trust intentions, not ability. I trust that Nigel is honest when he says he loves me. His intentions are different than his ability to love me through whatever. The same goes for me.

But I stay firm. I barely prayed, because I was too frightened, but God answered. He really, really did.

I knew that camp was not the end of troubles for me. I knew it was only, perhaps, strengthening me to be able to go through whatever it was that I would end up landing myself in. So that I wouldn't cave.

He kept whispering for me to be strong. For him, for that, I restrained myself from doing something that'd hurt myself. The temptation was great- If I'm hurt physically, people would stop hurting me emotionally because they'd be scared of being blamed for my caving in.

But that'd hurt the ones who love me. Or at least, Nigel. I don't want to do that.

A year since I fell hard for him. Eight months since we'd committed ourselves to each other, seeing how I'd promised myself that my next boyfriend would be my last and only. He knew that. I wonder what I'd think, reading back on all this. What do you think, future me? Are you happy right now? Where are you now? What lessons have you learnt since then? Do you disagree with anything up there now? Has anything you've experienced since then negated anything I've experience so far?

Nigel's asleep. I probably should be too. Not to think too much. I'm learning not to, to pick and choose what to be concerned about, and what not to. I'm learning also to deny my flesh comfort. I'd failed the few days at camp- I still went to the hotel for my afternoon baths. I have been too sheltered all my life. It's high time I went through some fire.

Again, I'm thankful. I truly believe that God can make me into a far stronger character than if I hadn't and am not going through all this spiritual, emotional turmoil.

Then again, I sound so wrong & self-righteous there. Am I?

I'm worried about my future. And now I'm not.

Alright. Time to stop thinking. I need rest.