family

I went home last weekend. Good times- I had fun. I love my family. I absolutely hate the transition between going home and coming back here. For some reason, it's hard. You'd think with the two and a half hour drive I would be able to clear my head. My problem could be that I'm scared that I am two people- that I'm different when I'm at home. I feel like I always have to watch what I do, watch what I say. A lot of people might think that I hate going home because I don't like my family - it's not that. I hate going home because I don't like who I am when I'm at home. Sometimes I get so proud because I see others trying to compete with me and, compared to them, I "have everything figured out." Pride is a big thing when I am with my family. I am proud of them, and I love being with them, but sometimes I can't help feeling proud that I have a more purposeful life and they don't. Shouldn't that make me want to share my life with them? I try to, and I want to, but sometimes I just don't want to have to explain everything to them. I want them just to know how I feel. I want them to understand. I want to be able to say things like "Well, I'll pray for you because you're struggling with that," and have them thank me, not look at me like I'm nuts. Ahhh self-centeredness is evil. Here I am complaining and life could be much worse. I don't like the fact that I need a constant reminder to be not so dramatic, that God has blessed my life so much with everything he's given me. But I see reminders every day, and, in the words of the amazing bethany dillon, "all that I can do is hold on to you, and let you bring me through- it's all that I can do."