I don't know where I'm going

I don't know where I'm going, but I'm learning faith through the journey. I've talked about this so many different times before and I feel crazy each time because I feel like I'm living wrong. I don't know what to pursue except for my faith. And when I get to be in spaces where I can do that, I feel that sense of "this is where I'm meant to be". But then outside of it, what am I supposed to be doing? What am I supposed to be pursuing? I'm surviving, but how am I supposed to live?

When I was growing up, church was my life. My family went to the same church, so my church was my family, too. I knew everyone there and everyone knew me. We would celebrate birthdays there together. Our church building was so cool. The door was gated, so we would wait for someone to roll up the metal gate before we could walk in. Our bookstore had Dutch doors and my dad used to run it, so he had an office in the back, too. Down the hall, there was another room or maybe they converted my dad's office, but there was a room that the older kids used as a music practice room. Down the hall from that there was the kids room and next to that the teens room. Then there was the bathrooms and on the opposite side of the hall I remember there being doors that lead into the main room where services were held. Though, I don't really remember ever really sitting in on any of the messages. I always loved the praise and worship time. My dad used to play the guitar and sing. I don't think I ever really knew what we were saying in the lyrics and even if I did sit in on the messages I don't know that I understood what was being said. Actually, now that I think about it I do think I sat in some messages because I distinctly remember by dad being up there and speaking. He would always get emotional when he would speak up there. He still gets emotional now when we talk sometimes. Now I wonder what he might be thinking about or remembering in those moments.

Behind the bathrooms there were two other rooms down the hall. One to the left and one to the right. I don't remember what was down to the left, but on the right there as more seating space. Or storage. It might have been the same for the left side. I just remember the right side more for whatever reason. It was also where my crush in the 5th grade told me who he had a crush on. And that was embarrassing for me. Down that hallway was the kitchen and main dining area. Every week a family was assigned to cook for the congregation. I know my mom and aunts and grandma would help out in the kitchen; I can't recall what they would make, honestly. I do remember there was a Salvadorian family that would make pupusas and wow! What a blessing, truly. I love pupusas and at that time I really did not like loroco. Now! Now I love it and that's one of my go-to orders when I get pupusas anywhere. After the services everyone would gather in the kitchen to get their plates and we would all eat together. I do miss it a lot.

Church was my life. Everything else that I did in between the time I was at church and the next time I was back there was filler. And that made sense to me. I was also a kid, so I really didn't have much of a choice but to go where my parents were. That's what my life is starting to feel like again. And I would be lying if I said I didn't love it. But I'm feeling like I'm doing something wrong because I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing in the in between now. As a kid I had school and play and entertainment and family time. My parents would take care of any of the financial responsibilities. Now I have financial responsibilities and I don't what to do. I'm ridiculously fortunate to have this problem, I know. And I keep trying to figure it out, but I can't seem to. And I don't know where to go for help. Because when I try to ask for help, I feel like I sound ridiculous. Like, just get a job? And maybe I am just being ridiculous.