Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Burying the Pain

Dear Darling,

I think it’s time.

This darkness has encroached on my life far too much lately. I’ve lost so many friends to it. The appetites of any normal, healthy young male wage and rage within, and I fought, resisted and subdued for what I thought was a greater good, and for a reward. I thought I was pressing on towards a goal that would make the sweat, the hunger and the loneliness worth it.

Instead, those closest to me are telling me it’s not worth all this, the despair and darkness, the hurt as I constantly learn of fellow standard-bearers who left me holding the banners alone. Rather than see how that sits in my heart, rather than understand that at my age, the sins of the world and the indelible failures even of my brothers and sisters in Christ will weigh heavy on my heart, they tell me it’s my problem, that I have to release my hold on the issue.

And then the diagnoses start. Not real ones from medical professionals, but just chin-scratchers who look at you and question if you’ve got some sort of “condition”; everything from ADHD to arrested development to Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: “You’re obsessing on this issue too much. You really need to talk to someone.”

Of course I do. I need to talk to my wife. I need to close my eyes as she caresses my face and tells me it’s all going to be okay, all going to be worth it.

They tell me I’m beginning to sound like a bitter soul. I suppose I am. The prospect of waiting all these years for nothing, of facing no recompense for long, lonely nights, fills my heart with foreboding and dread, and yet I can’t pacify the pressures and voices from outside telling me I should relinquish. The voices of the world, of my brothers and sisters in the Lord, and even of my loved ones offer no comfort.

It is making me a little more grumpy, a little less apt to laugh. Mind you, times are hard and no one is spending a lot of time trying to make people laugh. I’d like to think I can still do a good job making you laugh when the time comes. It’s making me disappointed in friends. I sometimes wonder if it’s making me disappointed in God. He called me to stand where I’m standing. He didn’t tell me the gravest blows would come from the inside.

Quite frankly, I’m tired of being the best person I know. I’m tired of people telling me how refreshing it is to meet someone like me. I’m weary of people with low ambitions and aspirations suddenly meeting me, feeling uplifted, wishing I could be theirs. I don’t want to be the standard people are always looking up to. I don’t want to be afraid to relate my views or my situation in life because it will make others feel inferior or guilty. I don’t want to prompt someone to defend their decisions or wallow in regret. (Actually, that’s just people my age. Those who are very old are the ones I often get along with and relate to the most, because they were products of a different era.)

I need to be uplifted too. I need to meet someone that makes me feel inferior. Someone who’s done just as good or better than me, or at least that kindred spirit with the same tenacious conviction of purity.

Well. That is my calling, isn’t it. To give people something to aspire to. If I heard that out of anyone else’s mouth, I should call them the most arrogant of brutes, and yet here I am, meeting countless person after countless person who tells me they wish they could be like me, and they’re surprised and pleased to find such men still walk the earth. Believe me, it is a heavy burden. I chose this path out of obedience to the Lord, thinking there would be others — not that I would find myself on a higher path than them and wishing they were up with me, or even that I might have the kinship of being down with them.

Well. It’s time. It’s time to pile all these fears and feelings and burdens into a box and bury them. I have to stop inflicting it on people. This nightmare of virtue unashamed but unaccompanied is clearly appointed for me. So be it. It’s time to try smiling again. It’s time to stand in strength once again, if the Lord will give me the mercy and grace to do so.

But Darling, it will be buried alive. My feelings will not change. I simply have to tape over their mouths. I have to protect everyone else from the misgivings and horrors I feel. My disappointment channels the devil’s condemnation. Perhaps…perhaps these people deserve better than the truth.

Nor, Darling, am I changing my standards, goals, hopes or behaviors. I merely silence them.

I shall still write to you of these things from time to time, for if I cannot be honest with you, where can I turn? But even with you I shall speak less of it. The world is dark enough without the prisming darkness in a jar and shaking it to analyze its contents.

Buried it is. God give me strength.

As time permits me, I shall resume the promises and hopes and secrets that I hope will make you cherish and love me even more as our time approaches.

I cannot wait to whisper the words “I love you” in your ear.

Always,
-Beren

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July 27, 2012 - Posted by | Loneliness, Purity

1 Comment »

  1. […] the unending feelings. Don’t make me wallow in that anger or that hurt. I’m trying to bury it, for everyone’s sake. If only you could be in my shoes, see what I see, feel what I feel. […]

    Pingback by Don’t « Letters to Luthien | November 18, 2012 | Reply


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