I can be insecure at times. If I’m being honest at 4am on a Tuesday morning I can be insecure a lot of the times. I wonder if I’m ever going to be the writer I see myself being in my head. I wonder if I’m ever going to be the husband or father I make the characters in my stories out to be. My insecurities are masked by my talent, by my ability to stop people from getting close to me. My insecurities protect me from my fears.
Fears that consume me. Fears that I drown in the unrelenting sea of bottles that have come to comfort me. Fears that hold my confidence in their hands like the oceans hold fish and ships. Fears that I’m not sure I will ever overcome. Fears that aren’t based in race or religion or sex but fears that are based in emotional and mental uncertainty.
Why is it that I was created this way? Why is it that I can’t see what everyone else seems to see in me? Does it make me weak? Does it make me undeserving of the life you’ve given me? Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going or where I’m destined to be. Sometimes I don’t know just how much my life matters or is going to matter in this world. There are times I’ve looked for signs, prayed for guidance only to feel more lost than when I first fell to my knees.
Last week at this same time before the sun rose I stood on a beach letting the waves wash over me looking out into the horizon trying to see my future. Trying to see if I could be a man better than my father, trying to see if I can be a man better than the man I am now. As the sun rose and my eyes burned from the salt and the tears I couldn’t see it. Falling to my knees in that sand I felt as though. I felt as though I felt nothing which is the worst feeling in the world.
Will I lose everything dear to me, everyone I love? Will I forsake the love you have for me and fall to doubt, envy, insecurity, fear? Or will I rise. Will I grow into the King’s blood that pumps into my flawed heart?
I write about relationships and love. I write about life and responsibility. And even though I have an amazing woman in my life and an amazing family at times I feel as though they’re all an illusion. A dream that turns into a nightmare when I awake and they’re no longer going to be here.
For a man that prides himself on not really needing friends and being able to spend hours and days alone just writing; the thought of being alone in this world scares me more than standing on a beach with a sword waiting on a thousand ships with 10,000 soldiers bearing down on me. Death doesn’t scare me, war or tension don’t scare me. But the idea, the thought of dying unaccomplished or alone scares me to death.
This morning, I just want to talk to you God, write to you. To ask that you don’t give up on me. To ask that you don’t allow me to give up on myself. I will keep fighting with your help. I will keep living with your help. I just need you.
In Your Darling Son Jesus’s Name,