I suffer from an incredibly common disease. It is the nature of young adults to think that this condition is singular to our age group, but I’m getting old enough now to see that it is more or less universal.
My name is Carlie, and I’m a wantaholic.
There are so many things that I have that I will never need I would trade them all–and the things I do need too–to know I am wanted. I sometimes wonder if that’s what drives the human race to religion. There it is, this idea of the most powerful person in the world. He is bigger than Angelina Jolie. He is bigger than Oprah. He wants you. I sometimes wonder if this is why I am a Christian. There is this sense of belonging. We are all wanted as long as we want it back.
Christians do not always seem to feel this way. Oh those people, we say. Those people are not Christians. Those people do blank. Those people vote for XYZ. Those people are not who God planned them to be. I watch these Christians, and I cannot help but be one of them. I say, it is damn disrespectful for you to think anything was not in God’s plan. You are not who he planned you to be.
Sometimes I want to shake myself and make myself love them, and most times I succeed. Most times. Sometimes I want to shake them and say want me.
I struggle with the same desire to feel wanted. To know that I am wanted. Damn, I like this Carlie. A lot.
Thanks! I had a hard time writing this, so I’m glad it turned out relatable.