Tuesday, April 2, 2013

I Don't Want the Voices Back...?

 I have talked and joked and gone on and on about the voices in my head on several occasions. What I find rather funny is that most people don't believe me when I say I have  voices in  my head. They figure I'm just being me... strange, weird, intentionally crazy. And yes, I will admit that when I say I have 156 voices in my head - this is an exaggeration and I am just joking around.

But, I do have voices. Or, at least, I did.

This wasn't the crazy "killlll himmmm" voices you see on TV. Just voices. These voices argued, yelled, complained. They'd talk me out of being stupid. Or into being stupid. Or more often would just argue with each other and I'd sit there unable to make a decision either way as to whether or not to be stupid. They kept me company when I was lonely, and went silent when they were angry with me. They fueled my ability to write. They fueled my ability to keep people at arm's length. They kept me safe and secure, locked behind thick walls. When I didn't want someone to know the "real" me (which was pretty much always), the voices took over. They protected me.

Or, so I thought.

The past several months, I have been slowly changing, transforming. And I've been fighting this change. Why fight it? Well, for several reasons. Change is evil to begin with (I really am not one to embrace change unless I know without a doubt that it is to my advantage and that things I know and feel secure in will not change). But also, I didn't want to lose the voices. This has always been my biggest fear. If the voices are gone - I won't be able to write. I won't be protected. I will get hurt. 

I could write for hours about my voices... they truly mean (meant) that much to me.

But, they're disappearing.

The past couple weeks, I've noticed a change. It didn't really dawn on me until Easter Sunday what a big part of that change was. The voices were gone. They weren't just silenced - they were gone. I know when they're silent... I can still feel them. But I can't anymore. And I should be frightened. In fact, I am frightened about the fact that I am not frightened.

Why are the voices gone? Where did they go? I'm not sure. I do know that for several months now, God has been working within me, transforming me, guiding me back to the path that leads to Him. With a patient heart and gentle soul, God has been helping to cleanse me of my old self, allowing me to be reborn as a child of God. And with this transformation has come an unusual peace. A silence of heart and mind and soul. A removal of the chaos which usually afflicts me. A quiet joy which surrounds me, envelops me, embraces me.

 I have never seen the voices as a weakness before. They were, in my mind, a strength. And to be honest, I do still believe this. They served as a strength when I needed them. They served as a strength until I was in a place of acceptance and understanding... until I had the patient guidance of God's servant... until I was ready to release my weaknesses to God. They served as a strength until I was ready to accept the Lord as my strength.

 And what is truly strange to me... I tried early to explain this to someone, but it's quite a difficult thing to put into words. Without the voices... in the midst of recognizing this transformation... I'm feeling...

I feel lost, but found at the same time. 
I feel uncomfortable with the silence, but in a comfortable way (comfortably uncomfortable?).
I'm a little anxious, but in a relaxed way (peacefully anxious?).

This is all so strange and new and exciting and yet feels as if it's meant to be, and is right, and has always been.

Thank you God -
For walking beside me and guiding me. For sending someone with incredible patience and faith to be your ears and voice and hands in guiding me. For silencing the voices, but only when I was ready to accept this silence. For blessing me in so many ways.

I am your beloved child, and your servant. Help me to continue this transformation, and to be those guiding hands for someone else who is as I was.

In Jesus' name, Amen

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