It is a lie to believe that every woman has everything she wants, with all her dreams fulfilled, and all her longings resolved. Isn’t it easy to view the world this way? Full of women who have everything, the best of the best, and the perfect kind of life one could only wish for. I am delusional, and even when I know the truth—the reality that all women are tangled messes, I still dig for more and believe the lie that I have fallen short, because my expectations have returned empty.
I assign myself the story that I think is best and I hope that every day will live up to the life I have vainly created. Most days fall short, deepening the self-inflicted sorrow, widening the chasms of truth. I tear myself apart with my longings. And it is not that dreams and desires are wrong, it is that I want them in my time while strapped down with my expectations.
I have believed the lie that I know what’s best for my life. I have fallen into the trap that my way is the only way, and if God can fit into my little box, then I can be happy fulfilled, and successful. Not only do I want what’s best for me, I want my best to be better than everyone else too. Continue reading