My Frustrated Growth

Last night, I turned into my parking spot and noticed a gaping hole in my apartment where the front door usually hangs. It’s not like my roommate to leave the front door open as he detests temperatures above 70 degrees. I shut the car off and waited in silence. My mind formed a rationale which my nose confirmed, the bastard burned his food…AGAIN. 

He wouldn’t call it burned, he’d call it roasted. Whatever the semantics, the result is a smokey apartment, my nose inflamed, and my eyes stinging. It’s a common enough occurrence at our apartment that I’ve spoken to him about it before. Several times. And still he persists, as if filling the whole house with burnt chicken fat smoke is the only way to cook chicken. 

This morning I woke up at the usual 5:30 am, but decided to sleep in to 8 am. Felt good to let myself do that. As a prize, I drove to Mount Lassen National Park for an easy hike around the lake. The drive up was pleasant; however, I spent ¾ of the hike in tears and frustration. 

I’m frustrated with how I responded to Ben’s smokey culinary technique, and I am sad today is the last day I might get to see her- which is probably false. (It’s a small town, and I’m not intentionally avoiding her.) After continuing to pray, I sat on a large lichen covered rock under the shade of a red fir. 

In tears I tried to fight off the judgment now surrounding me. I did not respond to Ben’s hazy endeavor with serene kindness and gentle tones. And today when I noticed his pile of dishes next to the dishwasher rather than in the dishwasher I was less than cordial about it. 

And the girl? I spent most of the morning in imaginary arguments, trying to defend myself. Trying to prove my worth to her. Such fun. 

I hate being this guy. The pensive, self-doubting, defensive asshole. I hate getting angry at my roommate. In truth, Ben is a good roommate and a sweet man. And she is awesome. (We had to break up, something I think was for the best for both of us.)

As stated above, my real problem is me, not them. (Well…the food burning has to stop.) But I’m upset at my responses, and I’ve judged myself. That’s got to stop too. The answer to feeling attacked isn’t to respond to the attack, it’s too love myself. Good thing growth isn’t a straight line toward the utopian horizon. It dips and climbs each day. 

The last ¼ of my hike I spent affirming myself. I’m amazing. I’m a great man. I love people and look for the good in everyone. Then I came home to the dishes, and a semi-emotional meltdown. Did I say growth dipped and climbed everyday? How about every few hours? LOLOLOLOL

Now, I’m typing my feelings into the internet. 

Grace is a funny bird. Western Christians generally understand Grace to be something unearned, a relentless love and mercy. But it’s also something we can bestow upon ourselves. Grace to you Nik. 

Lord, thank you for teaching me to love myself. Thank you for setting the example. 

Amen.