Feel.

I’m a feeler.

I feel things deeply and fully and wholly.

I’m a feeler.

No, my feelings don’t dominate me (and remind me again why that is always so horrible?) and no, my feelings don’t define my entire being.

But I’m still a feeler.

And I’ve been feeling a lot lately.

I’m feeling confused. Confused over how to balance my time and money and energy and commitments; to balance people-pleasing with service, truth with love, discipline with grace, work with rest, my extrovert with my introvert.

I’m feeling alone. Alone in being an RA, alone in my room, alone in my hurts, alone in being a deep feeler, alone in my confusion.

I’m feeling excited. Excited about the girls on my floor, excited about how much they’re growing and how much I’m growing and how much we’re growing together. Excited about learning and changing and seasons and being a feeler.

I’m feeling ostracized. Ostracized in my personality, in my position, in my major, in my choices. That conversation left me cast out, unloved, uncared for. And sometimes I feel I’ll never recover.

I’m feeling afraid. Afraid of growth, of the darkness I’ve been in before, afraid of taking a stand, afraid to preach, afraid to go far from here, afraid to fight, afraid to stay still, afraid to move from Your presence.

I’m feeling hopeful. Hopeful of newness, of You doing a new thing, of a spring coming up in the desert, of loving better, more fully, deeper. Hopeful of new relationships and new confidants and new opportunities and new experiences.

I’m feeling cherished. Cherished by my Lord, on my couch, in His presence, as I lay down to sleep.

I feel known by You.

I’m feeling real. More real then I’ve been in a long time. I feel like myself, like the me God created, unmasked, uncovered; bare, vulnerable, plain me. And I like it.

I’m a feeler. And I like that, too.