Facebook, Personalized Ads and Singleness (or Psalm 322)
*Warning: take the following with a grain of salt* I have endured over 24 hours of singleness.
(I mean separate from my life before I was in a relationship, of course.)
This morning, after a break from Facebook (not for Lent) I decided to deactivate my account. I missed knowing things about people, and I realized that I could know all of the things that I was missing by talking to people. (Georgie Darcy has now died, may she rest in peace).
For everyone who would like to know, I got on Facebook as an experiment. My experiment is now over. It was fun, but I don't need it. Maybe I'll get more homework done...
I must say that the personalized ads in gmail make me nervous. One moment, they are talking about "how to make a woman melt in your arms" and "eco-friendly wedding rings" the next they are telling me "how to win him back in 5 days, testimonials available" and "find quality Christian singles in your area." How did gmail gain psychic powers? And what makes them think they know what I want?
One thing I do know: I dislike being single. Most people agree with this. Not all admit it. Some people grow to be more content, others fester and become bitter. Some people pour themselves a glass of wine and focus on one moment at a time.
I'm dehydrated and spent. All day, I've been screaming out to God and crying. This is my first experience with both of my parents being at work when I've been on a break and I find that the moments tick by slowly.
Sleep, that mystical thing which I have craved, evades me. Even when I manage to get it, my mind is filled with dreams. They are realistic. I awake in tears, or short of breath.
My dad thinks that this experience will give new depth to my writing.
I thought that it was deep enough, thank you.
This post is not a tirade, or a pity party, I hope that you can see that.
There is this one song by Andy Gullahorn that has been in my head all day. It's called "Alright Here" and singing it is the only way I have made it through the hell of the last day.
Most of the time, hell is a punishment. Of course, that was what all of Job's friends said, they were wrong, you see.
You know how people always talk about Job and how awful his trials were? Did you ever think that his poor wife (you know, "curse God and die" is her line?) I always used to think of her as this heartless hag who didn't understand Job's anguish. You know what? She had just lost everything too, all her assets, her children...and, for all intents and purposes, her husband. Yet, his restoration was hers in the end.
I don't think that this is a punishment.
Man, I hope not.
I keep thinking that this is just a dream, that tomorrow I'm going to wake up, and I will laugh about how real it seemed.
But it's not.
And I won't.
I really should stop joking about joining convents. Does anyone realize how horrible I would be at nunning?
I realize that I'm rambling a bit, so I'm going to wrap this up.
Honestly, I think that it might help to be angry. But I don't want to be angry. I want to be loving and supportive and prayerful and encouraging. I want to be thoughtful and cute and witty and delighted. I want to be a little taken off guard and mushy and bashful...confident...
I can only try to hope that I will be in that role again. I can only try to have hope at all. Right now, it's not coming easy. (However, my parents have said that I can live rent-free at their house until the day I die). I am clawing at hope, cynicism about relationships came easy before, now, it's threatening to fall into place again. For those of you who know how dramatic I can be, you will understand when I talk about "being the next Jane Austen and living a lonely, bitter life and dying alone. All women writers have tragic lives." Yeah.
Hope is fleeting, but it is all I've got. I'm not even sure what it's hope for. The first thing I wanted, yesterday, was to die. Not in a "oh my gosh, Cara is going to kill herself" sort of way, but in a "OH GOD, PLEASE please, take me HOME" sort of way. Sure, it would be easier, but I'm still here, God must still have something to accomplish through me on this earth. There must still be some reason for my existence. Ah nuts.
With that in mind, I am living each moment. One at a time. Living is a relative term, I'm not too worried about the particulars. As long as I breath, and try to eat now and then...
I'm going to leave you with this thought, since this entry has been long, and full of misery, I hope it was funny in places.
Jesus, when he went to raise Lazarus from the dead, came and saw Martha first. She said: "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died."
He saw Mary next, she also said: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."
Now, this part gets me every time. Jesus saw Mary weeping and He was "deeply moved in spirit" and he wept. After this, He went to the grave and asked the stone to be removed. When Martha objects, He says: "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?"
Right now, I am weeping. I think that Jesus is weeping with me, as are many others in my life. But He is also whispering in my ear: "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?"
To God be the glory....forever...Amen.