There was no struggle with the first steps or middle ones. Only eagerness, a sense of purpose and a need to follow-through. The final actions carried the most anxiety because of their finality, perhaps because of the level of commitment and trust required to let go of the life I had been building for over twelve years.
He makes nations great, then destroys them; he enlarges nations, then leads them away. He strips understanding from the leaders of the earth, and makes them wander in a pathless waste. They grope in the dark without light; he makes them stagger like a drunkard.
When my dad died, I realized that I had been subconsciously waiting for him to want a relationship with me. With my hope turned on low, I still hoped he would one day reach out to me in response to all my pass efforts… but he refused to send word to me, to request my presence, to offer reconciliation. That saddened me, but I realized he preferred to go to his grave before reconciling our relationship. Building a relationship was of no interest to him. And I’m okay with his preference. Understanding that about him put my interactions with men in a whole new light. My intolerance, my harshness. My hope, my repeated efforts. My exhaustion and frustration. My desire to build a relationship and lack of understanding of how to go about it. My ineffective communication and my inability to get what I want – a husband and family of my own.