Tuesday, September 15, 2009

I know it's not you my dear, it's the nothing that kills.

I'm excited. I'm excited for what I'm doing and where I'm going.
I'm proud (I know, deadly sin) of the work I'll be doing for Jesus. I want to make Him proud of me. And yet, as excited as I am, as completely called as I feel, I just wish sometimes that my family... got me. I have all these passions and a heart that has been completely and utterly set ablaze, and I can't share that with them. I can talk until I'm blue in the face abut non-profit coffee shops and homeless people and Jesus, and they smile and nod and tell me that they are glad I'm happy. But I recognize the face. The slow nod, the head tilt, and the half smile. It's the same face they've been giving me for the past 5 years since my mom died.
And it's killing me, because as much as they say that they're happy for me or "we'll support you, if it's really what you think you want", all I see is the disappointment in their faces. The pity in their voice. Like they think I'm ruined.
And it's not God, that's not what they're afraid of. I come from a family of Catholics and Anglicans (clearly two SEPARATE families) and, to some degree, they get the God thing. But they understood so much more when I wanted to go to some high-scale University and get a journalism degree, or the years when I worked towards becoming a doctor. That's the world they understand.
The look on their face is one of complete disappointment. Not in me, I could handle that. But in themselves. They are disappointed in themselves for who I've become. Like they let me down. It's like they feel that if they'd been there more after she died, I'd be different now. I'd be a doctor, or a journalist. Not someone who enjoys hanging out with the impoverished. Someone with no real plan for her life.
I could handle it if I had simply disappointed them. I can deal with my own failures. But the idea that they think they failed me. It kills me more than I can bear. I wish they knew what a positive impact they had on my upbringing. I'm not broken, I'm not some lesser being. It's not their fault.
I'm trying to think of a way to end this with some sort of finality... but my mind is so blank.

0 comments: