I wonder why we mess up, feel awful, that feeling wears off and we somehow start to justify messing up again. Seems so silly. Why don't we learn the first time? Why do we choose to keep going back to things we know are bad for us? Even with the consequences staring us in the face, our desire to mess up again grows and grows. Sometimes we fight and fight for years, learn to coast, then when we finally give in to temptation we feel like we're "going home". That place we started, and the actions we chose, they're what make us who we are. Even if we hate that person, we can't escape our true identity. The things that brought us comfort in our darkest hours before we knew any better are like security blankets. Our best friends are objects, or substances that we know will bring darkness, yet at the same time bring a certain element of comfort. They were there for us when we needed it, when no human was. Even if it's been a while, going back feels like meeting up with an old friend. The best of friends. The only friend that can be there whenever and wherever we need them to. We justify, and trick ourselves into thinking "it's ok."
I don't have much of a sense of smell. I can smell a few things, but it's definitely very rare. After all these years, I have yet to learn when someone says, "Do you smell that?" I can't, yet I always take a whiff. Each time I always expect to smell whatever it is that the other person is smelling, until after the whiff. Each time I wonder why I haven't learned. This same phenomenon happens some mornings, I wake up thinking I'm going to have a great, "normal" day. Actually I don't even think about it, I just get up as I should, and go on about what I need to do. The thought doesn't even occur to me that anything will get in my way. Sometimes, a short time after getting out of bed, it hits me. I just want to crawl back in bed and cry. It comes out of nowhere! It actually surprises me. How have I not learned? I guess the same way I haven't learned I can't "go home" to the things my natural man desires.
On the other hand, I continue to do the things I'm supposed to do to feel the spirit. I keep falling back onto the hope that someday I'll read a scripture or hear a talk that will hit my heart in a way that I'll know He doesn't hate me. For years I've begged Him to take this monster inside of me away. I don't ever want to stop doing that. When it comes to this, I'm glad I haven't "learned". Maybe this is just one of those times I have to take the good with the bad. I don't know if my natural man will ever be able to feel His presence again, but I know I never want to stop trying. I never want to stop hoping. I never want to stop fighting. If I can't learn to stop the bad, I'm glad I can't learn to stop the good. Maybe if I don't stop the good, "going home" will mean being in His presence, not feeding and being trapped with the monster inside me.
