Confessions

Preface:
I told you the other night that I only hesitate to write because I'm afraid of what you will think of me.
Can I write about my heart... becoming completely transparent... knowing you read this? Knowing, when it comes time to write, I have no secrets?
The answer has always been yes.
I will always be afraid of what you think of me. Will you agree with me? After I say this, will you like me much? Will I seem childish in your eyes when all is said and done? I feel this way, because I love you.
And because I do love you, I don't hesitate longer than a few moments, to lay out my heart here...
Or at least the part of my heart that can be put into words.

Recap:
I'm getting ready to go to church in about two hours.
I've been going to this church since May. I started out going with Marty and Tasha, and lately have been going by myself.
I told you about last week, going to the alternative service at night, wondering why I had subjected myself to sitting alone... again. Then seeing Chris from psychology class.
Tonight, I had planned on going to the same service with my friend who just got back from Norway. I slept in very late this morning, knowing that starting tomorrow, sleep is going to be a rare and precious commodity.

My thoughts:
One of my roommates woke me up this morning to ask to use my flat iron. Half asleep, I told her yes and to shut the door on the way out. She asked if I was going to the service tonight, I groggily said yes, feeling the cotton being stuffed into my ears. I would never be able to go back to sleep now. She told me she wanted to go with me, and left.
A second roommate called later and said that she wanted to go as well (ending the conversation with, and then we are going to watch Highschool Musical Two at my parents house.)
I hung up the phone and began to think thoughts I'm not very proud of.
I am not sure if these thoughts are okay.
Or if they make any sense at all.
I didn't want them to come with me.
I had told them yes.
But I had really meant, no.
It is not my church to decide whether they can come or not... I know this.
And I beat myself up, mentally, for thinking these thoughts.
I came to this church in seek of newness.
Searching for a new family.
A fresh start... something I desperately needed.

I am afraid that if these two come with me, I will be less likely to go meet new people. That I will be so concerned with the drama they tote around like handbags, I will not enjoy myself. They do not want to hang out with me on a daily basis... why do they want to be with me at church? Where I am most vulnerable. A place that has, suddenly, become so safe and precious to me. Why do they want to come there, but cannot sit through a $1.50 movie with me on a Saturday night?

External control.
I can hear you, even now, uttering those words.
Choice theory, Anna.
It's not about them. I'm letting myself feel this way.
I get it.

But I really don't. Today I'm just not so sure that a change in our psychology would help.

This is my confession.

It's time to blowdry my hair, put on a good face, and remember that they cannot control me.

And I cannot control them.

Good grief.