I get paranoid. Afraid of being abandoned.

No rhyme or reason, these feelings hit me at random.

Fear and Anxiety, they arrive in tandem, grow and then explode into a full-blown tantrum.

Apparently, still got some raw nerve deep within.

And when it gets struck, man, the lightning begins.

It flashes through my soul.

Weather was just calm, now I’m in the middle of a cyclone.

Heart comes unhinged and I can’t find home.

I can’t find peace.

I know it’s irrational so I try to release it all to Him.

The sting of the shame, I hear its name: “rejection”.

As familiar to me as an addict is to injection.

Wish I could inject some courage into my now-crumbled sense of self.

But instead, I just clamor for attention and reassurance of fidelity.

Has anything changed since the last time you were tellin’ me

That you love me?

That we’re friends? That you like me?

Why can’t I believe it in the end?

I got this complex like everyone’s against me.

They smile in my face but I think its cause they don’t know the real me.

‘Cause they can’t really feel me.

Or understand the complexities that I know are inside this man.

They call themselves fam, but I just can't trust it.

If dependence on friends was currency, I’d be flat out busted.

I’ve tried to adjust it.

I’ve tried to depend on those closest to me who call themselves friends.

End up hurting, wondering why did I try again?

I hear the lie inside that I’m just too much to handle.

Too hard to really know

Mo’ drama than a soap opera.

If Oprah interviewed, I’d even be a lot for her.

Best to just go my way alone.

Ironic tho’ ‘cause all I’ve ever wanted was a home.

Surely there’s a place on this rock where I can be known and loved.

But, probably not perfectly and therein lies the crux of all my debility:

I’m continually confronting a broken humanity.

People deep down can’t be trusted, at the bottom their imperfect.

And when they let me down, it's hard to believe it's worth it.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not any better.

I’m not superior at all just because I penned this letter.

If you depend on me I’ll let you down sooner or later.

Just ask my wife and kids who think that I’m greater than the average man but still carry the wounds of my misguided plans, my harsh reprimands.

Sharp words that turn their hearts into sand that then slips right through my fingers.

The last thing I wanted to do.

That feared prophecy now come true:

“You’ll just hurt people if you let ‘em get close to you.”

But what can I do?

I can’t be a perfect father, husband, or even friend.

But as I ask the question, an answer begins.

It’s an answer, yeah, but it comes as question.

A voice inside asks if I want to learn the lesson.

I say “yes”.

“Well then, Why do you demand from others what you yourself can’t deliver?

Why not instead offer them grace? And oh, don’t forget to save yourself a sliver.

I don’t need you to be perfect, I did that for you.

I just want you to repent when you miss it so I can make you new.

If you need reassurance of my love: remember my Son on that tree

And the scars in his hands that will endure for eternity.

Come to me… with all your emotional explosions.

Let the volcano of your heart come in contact with my ocean.

And let’s build something new: an island of refuge.

I’ll meet with you there and give you the deepest knowing that your soul craves.

If you can’t receive my love, you won’t have any to give away.

If you don’t experience me as Dad, how can you give that to your sons?

And if you don’t let me love you, how can you begin to be a husband?

You can’t give the water of life to anyone if you yourself are dying of thirst.

And relational healing starts right here son, between you and me first.”