Since When Is My Inner Monologue an Outer Monologue?

I just got done throwing a pan of the best peanut butter brownies ever into the oven, and found myself having a lot of really random thoughts about college, my roommates my sophomore year, of course Jason (of course!), and all of the hurt that still is buried... apparently ready to creep back to the surface at the most unexpected moment, like, for instance, when the house is fairly quiet and I am making brownies. All of this on the heels of a fabulous morning, where I managed to ride my old horse several miles to--and through--the trails at the local Metropark (which is something I've not done since before my babies were born).

I think about how much I hate the movie "Bed of Roses". My one roommate, the one that was engaged and whose mom was dying of cancer, watched it from time to time. It made me feel horribly lonely and unloved even though I thought I was in a relationship.

I feel that I owe my one roommate an apology, even after all of these years. She told my RD about a situation that had happened involving myself and two of my roommates, and when I was confronted by the RD I had to make the choice between telling the truth and potentially getting my roommates (or maybe even all three of us) kicked out of school and lying to save my roommates. It was a betrayal of our friendship, but I felt very trapped.

I remember when he called my room to talk to my roommate about something, and he didn't recognize my voice. I didn't correct his error. But that was obviously when I knew that not all things were as they seemed.

The things inside that I will likely never ever put into physical words again after having done it once and being confronted by my mother regarding it.

Missing my friends and knowing the world did continue turning after I had left the building. And now knowing that half of those people vaguely remember me, when they are all intricately etched and ingrained into my mind because they are all I have to show for life after high school and before everything else.

It sucks. I had someone say quite a while ago that wounds can't heal if you keep picking at them.... and I felt like that was wise and incredibly stupid all at the same time. Do I just close the book and walk away, never looking back? I have a son, a son that looks a lot like his father--how do I walk away? How do I forget all of that? Give it God? Well, I've done that a billion times, too. And I think that, while He's been incredibly merciful and generous, and my life is, by all accounts, amazing.... for some reason He wants me to hold onto these painful memories.

Last summer, the women of the church began a Beth Moore Bible study on Daniel. One of the first sessions talked about meeting God in Heaven, and Him greeting us individually and personally, wrapping His arms around us. I think about that and it makes tears well up in my eyes pretty much every time. Will God know and confirm the pain that has walked with me? In my mind's eye, I see us in an embrace, Him holding me and, finally I can know some peace. But I also hear Him saying, "I know, Jen. I know." and comforting me for all the things I haven't been able to put into earthly words but have hidden in my soul for so long. And I know they say there will be no tears in Heaven, but I don't know how that could possibly be, if my situation were to actually play out. I'm crying my eyes out as I type this because I realize that what I am wishing for most desperately in the afterlife is something so amazing, and it's also a level of human intimacy that I think I have put on permanent lockdown since college.

I'm a mess. But I'd like to think that I am doing much better than I have in the past. I just can't figure out exactly why this is all coming out tonight of all nights, and after the awesome day I've had.... So weird.