Another Monday night. I am feeling quiet. Old radios, old telephones. Watercolor paintings.
This man has analyzed my temperament with a piece of paper I filled out one day in the depths of despair. The results are in: I am a miserable human being. Self-centered to the point of barely being able to function in society–does this sound like me? Lost in my own head 99% of the time–this does sound like me. I am off the charts SUBJECTIVE.
I am also off the charts submissive. I am nervous, tense, anxious, depressed, hostile; anti-social and impulsive vs. self-controlled. I want to scream about how wrong this test is, and how normally I am nice and friendly and funny and calm, except I am not calm and I haven’t felt light-hearted in forever. I am dysfunctional in almost every way a person can be dysfunctional. It is a wonder I can be around people.
How did I get so far opposite from what God wants me to be? How did I not see it? Wouldn’t I have noticed if I felt hostile? When did it happen? Why am I like this? How can I fix it?
I am given a book about adoption that should have been titled “Tripping on Mushrooms in 1977.” It has nothing to do with me and my situation. The author was beaten, abused, really messed up. His adopted parents were awful. His childhood was awful. He is awful.
My life was good and my parents were saints. I have no problem with anything and I’m angry with no one and hurting for nothing. Why am I taking this test and why am I reading this book? I’m not even supposed to be here.
But the pain I feel in my heart most days is so excruciating and unbearable that I can’t stand to be alive.
This man is funny and stern at the same time and he does not tell me how to feel better, or even that I’m going to. He gives me more books, more studying, more bible verses, more charts and figures and my head spins and my ears buzz but at least I’ve moved beyond throwing up and screaming.
I am not sure how to be hopeful because there is so much to fix. I am not just broken; I am shattered and I feel like all good things about me are dead.
My husband accidentally on purpose reads me the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, which is a tiny bit encouraging because Lazarus is a miracle of miracles and I want one of those with every breath my body breathes.
Jesus felt intense human emotion. I am not by myself in this.