Kelly Clarkson ~ Dark side
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am
Maybe it’s an indulgence to pause, mid challenge, to offer a reflection of the story so far, to hold up the mirror and examine the picture there in the silvered glass, but revelations of the personal kind rarely choose convenient moments to reveal themselves.
Feelings aroused during the process of writing have exposed some very raw nerves, worries I had acknowledged existed, but never fully understood just how deep they ran. To have it presented in stark black & white that most of the negatives surrounding that weekend stemmed from my propensity for focussing on my lack of self worth is pretty hard to take.
On reflection, I lament how little value I place upon myself that I would doubt His intent,
I lament that I would see rejection because that is what I expect.
Nowhere has He ever given me cause to doubt Him, so why does my mind insist on taunting me as it is want to do?
He was giving me what I wanted, yet I didn’t see it, because I was so invested in the I that I lost sight of the WE.
I let go of the we, and curled inwards, dispossessing Him of my thoughts, of my wishes, of my appreciation for everything He did for me to provide for me what I need.
Sitting here now, wondering which words next to place upon this page, I’m all out of analogy, stripped bare of such superfluous things. Yes, they add decoration, give substance to words in a way simplicity cannot, but here they have no place.
This is simple, in many ways I got it wrong, self created drama I inadvertently fed on morsels of my self defeat.
But in so many ways we got it right, it’d be wholly disingenuous and quite frankly disrespectful to suggest otherwise.
There were moments so beautiful, but maybe insignificant if viewed in isolation, that the sheer remembrance of them takes my breath away.
I can think of one in particular,
the details of which to remain unwritten at this time,
on that first night,
that I can almost reach out and touch if my mind lingers there for more than a few seconds at a time. The warmth, intimacy, the charm of that recollection mesmerises me.
He broke me down, almost completely, in such a wonderful way, and dwelt for a while as He examined the pieces.
He objectified me in a way that only with Him do I trust, and allowed me to mull over all the ramifications, which even now I am still doing, as my mind wandered the foggy corridors of subspace.
And at His feet I shall remember these truths if again my mind should ever seek to take possession of me and use my insecurities against me, or more importantly, against us.