the holes in my heart.

 

Something new I’m experiencing is fatigue. Deep, emotional fatigue and exhaustion from the simplest act of being invested in a worldly act of doing. A little walk in the mall perhaps, or putting up with a song or a conversation my sister likes to have. It’s then a wave of dread and separation that pushes me to want to discipline myself in isolation even further.

I feel very shameful and guilty being so transparent about it. Transparency thereof is the precursor of transcendence; with this light I can see what the holes in my heart are made of.

Worthlessness. Insufficiency. Separation.

Back in April, in Ramadan, I felt the struggle of having to deal with my sense of incompleteness and insecurity. A grappling sensation of unworthiness from unknown territories, making me even angrier. It’s an ailment I lived with all my life. I’ve embraced it, created through it, transcended it with God’s grace— often times I just return to it again in despair.

I’m my own authentic weakness when I’m unworthy, and it is my most honest plea to God. I remember, years ago, I was always scared to work or do something in fear of not being good enough for it. Even as success knocked on my door, it was always difficult to accept it, for there is always a lens that sees my innate insufficiency and incapability that makes me run away from it all.

Is it why I can’t seem to talk to my sister? Is it why I want to be alone? I think yes. I don’t want to open up to her because deep inside all I feel is boring, unspecial, untalented and simply empty.

I walk towards God with my deepest limitedness and pray to Him that He heals me with his mercy. It’s all I have left.

It’s very evident to me now that the essence of my disciplining efforts is in fact a way I run away from my unworthiness. The only time I feel good about myself is when I go days without eating much, when I belittle my needs and spread myself too thin crashing on the bed with tiredness. That’s the only time I feel worthy, good enough and loved. 

That doesn’t seem right, does it? That’s not love..