On Eagles Wings

Today I'm sick of me.
Yesterday I was, as well.
You see, lately I've been feeling as though I don't do many things right, but I do many many things wrong. I feel distanced from the only one I've ever known, and am in fact beginning to doubt his existence.
This may be because I haven't taken the time to remember him.
I've ignored him for the past week and a half (and yes, that is how long it takes for my mind to swerve).
I've done things he's told me not to do.
I've not done things I felt I should do.
I feel as though I've lost his approval.
So that's part of all this, I suppose.
I also feel like I need a change of scenery.
Wenham is a beautiful place, and the leaves are beginning to turn orange and yellow. I love foliage. I love the pond that is still half-buried underneath lily pads. I love the steeple that stands proudly atop the chapel. I love the sky. I love the sunset--watching the steeple gleam white in contrast to the firey pinks and purples and oranges that set the sky ablaze.
But I hate it here, at the same time.
It is much better than, say, January of last year. When I felt completely alone. But at the same time, I'm just feeling completely disgusted with myself, and with the people that I've left behind. I don't want to talk to them, I don't want to be involved in their lives, I don't want to read about their unresolved problems on facebook.
I hate facebook. It's very dramatic.
I want to go to a place where people value the food on their table and the roof over their head above the clothes in their closet and the car in their driveway. I want to be in a place that lives life simply. Where every ray of sun is another breath that they've gotten to breathe.
I don't know where this place is, but I'm praying that God will lead me there. I'm tired of the place that I am.
I've applied to voyage off to Northern Ireland in January. There, I would have the joy of tutoring and entertaining Irish children. I would absolutely adore the opportunity to do this, and if I'm accepted I doubt that I'll hesitate to go, but it just seems to me that something is missing. Theres an element of need that I'm not sure those people have. There's a lack of simplicity that I yearn for. I want to sleep in the dirt for a while, I suppose.
And what is funny is that these words have my mothers breath. These are the things she would say, and in fact, has said. She wants to live like they live. She wants to suffer the way they suffer. She suffers in her own way if she can't.
And here I am, desperately trying not to be her, but at the same time, tragically falling into her footsteps. It terrifies me that we may not be so different as I once thought we were. She is almost incapable of finding contentment and joy, and the image of her misery, her tears, her broken heart, this image is burned into the back of my mind as a prediction for my future.
"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4). When the path your life is traveling down turns out so differently than you've hoped it would be its hard to delight in the Lord. I understand this passage as implying that when you delight only in the Lord, he will make his desires your desires. But I'm afraid that my desires may be very different than his. And my question is whether or not I'll be able to find happiness without those things that I anticipate greatly. I constantly ask him to use me, use me, make a difference through me; well, what if I turn out to be "just another girl"?
We all change anothers' life in some way, I suppose.
Here's my wheatwhich. Off to read land of the green plums.