Sometimes I feel like my parents trust me a little too much to the point where it doesn’t seem like they care or hold any interest in what I do. I feel like that is largely why my mother held the misconception about my personal interest in wanting to do communications/film production. She thought I was being too idealistic with the dream and she wanted to keep me grounded in reality. When my brother wanted to do audio production, she convinced him otherwise and in a sense grounded him. The difference between the two of us is that when I have my eyes set on something that I want to accomplish, I will take whatever means necessary to get there. I do research almost whenever I am available and once I think of an idea that is appealing enough for me to want to go after it, I WILL sit down and figure out ways to go after it.
I know that mom&dad are often busy with ministry and just work in general, and I do appreciate that they have given me so much freedom to explore and stretch myself. But sometimes I just can’t help but feel like the things that I do are taken for granted and that as long as they know where I am/what I’m doing, they kind of don’t put a second thought into that. Yet as much as I understand the reason why they do what they do (or don’t do), a little part of me dies inside whenever they do the exact opposite of my expectation.
To a certain extent I think this is why I tend to carry a heavy load. I don’t know if I actually prefer it, but I remember during the most lonely, and abandoned days of my life, I learned to pick myself up because no one else was really THERE for me. I came to believe that as long as I walked with Jesus, I am capable of going anywhere I wanted. Pastor Alan always stressed that no one does ministry alone, and I completely agree with that. I am still in the process of learning how to delegate roles. It’s just that through past experiences, I have learned to bite my tongue and swallow that giant pill. Sometimes it turns into a burden, but most of the time I feel indifferent towards how much I invest myself in each activity that I am a part of.
I was molded through an environment where I felt like no one really saw me. I think I tried to find help; I reach my hands out but no one takes them. So I pick myself up, put on the load, and I walk to Jesus and I beg Him to walk with me, and to lessen my load along the way. This is largely why I prefer solitude; in it I find self-restoration, I find peace. It’s not so much that my parents didn’t care about me; I think I knew their heartaches in being unable to find relief for me, so I learned to push aside my own feelings and try to help out as much as I could. But to be honest, loneliness sucks. As much as I try to comfort myself, I cannot deny the fact that the physical absence of a companion is something that is difficult to overlook. It was a hard lesson for me to learn, but now I can finally recognize when I need to lean on others to get through the hardships. For the longest time now, it has just been between me and God. In terms of how my parents handle me, I really have no complaints. A lot of the things that I wish were different and that I wish I could change is something that is totally out of my hands. And I have come to accept those facts for what they are, no matter how hard it is to swallow. A couple days ago, I felt like I was the happiest for the longest time. I can’t say that the feeling has gone, but a sense of realism has started settling in quite quickly. Every time I take a step back and examine the things that are going on in my life, I wonder how I got there in the first place.
Sometimes I forget that I’m actually still a kid.