broken

I have a confession.

I'm a little OCD.

Not in the traditional sense, but I apparently struggle with obsessions to some extent. There are tons of things in the world that don't bother me...that crooked picture on the wall? Only occasionally. My pile of stuff in the corner? Only when it gets larger than usual.....

So I'm probably not OCD right?

Then there has to be another term for it because once I get something in my mind it has to happen or I go absolutely crazy!!!

I think a lot about Zeta and all she went through. If there was a symptom or diagnosis that was related to something she was experiencing I researched and talked to doctors and therapists until everything I read or heard was just repeating itself. I just couldn't stop.

Everyday of her life I wanted to "fix" her. I wanted to make her whole. Even when I finally understood that there was nothing to be fixed- that God created her perfectly in the way in which he wanted her....that fix-it instinct occasionally still came out.

I've spent a lot of my life trying to fix things. I don't mean in the physical sense necessarily, I mean in the sense of holding on to that save the world attitude.

I'm an eternal optimist. Even when struggling through some of my worst bouts of depression when I was finally able to get out of bed or see through the fog of the anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds I still wanted to fix things - or people, rather.

Most of my educational career I wanted to fix all the broken children. I was drawn to special education at first. Then, in the regular classroom I always found myself most attached to the children who had the most problems, or who struggled the most, or seemed to need the most love....

Stevie could tell you how many times I asked him about adopting random children or bringing children home with us because they seemed to have no one..... or the countless conversations on the phone with parents who were fighting desperately to find a way to help their child succeed.....

My life has always centered around fixing the broken.

Because of this I'm often called a doormat.........

I'm told people walk all over me, that these people don't really have problems they just use me.

I've also found out myself that I very easily become an enabler.....sometimes because of the love I feel- and the desire I have to want to be the one to 'be there' or the one to help- sometimes I put myself into awkward situations or seriously end up feeling very used.....

These are all choices I make on my own....and while the feeling of wanting to love or fixing the broken sounds great in theory.... maybe its not always the best thing.

OR ....Maybe its not always my place. Maybe sometimes its my own selfish desire of wanting to feel needed that makes me like this.

I'm a pretty tough fighter. I hate to lose. More than that I hate for anyone to feel that they're not worthy of love.....I will kick, fight, scream, push...just about anything to make you realize that you are worthy of love.

Sometimes though, my feelings get hurt. Sometimes, I realize I've pushed enough. Sometimes, I realize that it's not my place to be fixing.....and sometimes I actually realize that I'M THE BROKEN ONE.

There are so many people hurting in this world. There's so much death and destruction....poverty and sickness....hatred.....there are so many problems out there bigger than my own....so often times there are so many questions....

Brokenness causes emptiness. I am broken because although I try to follow God I have a tendency to try to live according to my own plans sometimes....I should know by now that never works.

Realizing I'm broken makes me lean back on my faith....and the One who is there no matter how much I try to hide.....




He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Psalm 147 3-4