I finally give up

I've had enough of my own will. I realized on the 10 hour drive that when an iron will is bent against itself all it manages to do is sharpen itself till it cuts anyone who comes near. And I realize now that there is not a blessed thing I can do about my stubbornness, any thing I try will only give more power and resolve to my will. So I give up, God help me, I know that he's the only one who can. I don't want to be broken, because I know it will be painful, but not being broken is even worse because it means my wounds will only fester underneath my masks.

*This is my confession, don't read it if you don't care*

I'm tired of pretending I know what's going on all the time, and that I have everything perfectly under control. I'm tired of climbing into the box of perfectionism and being the "super-Christian" everyone (including me) expects me to be. I'm tired of using boxes to push other people away. I'm a mess right now, I have deep hurts that go back so far I don't even know when I received them, or that I'd even been hurt, and each layer is pulled back to reveal even deeper hurts. I have demons that oppress (not possess, that is an impossibility) me because I allow them to, because I've grown comfortable with their company, believing their lies. I'm tired of being general manager of my universe, which is falling apart around me, because I'm not powerful enough to hold it all together. I'm tired of pushing away people who get too close to me, close enough to actually see the scars on my heart, and who aren't content to let them stay there. I'm tired of reaching out for God with one hand, and pushing him away with the other. I'm tired of doubting his love, and his goodness, his ability and willingness to forgive a sinner such as me. I'm tired of leaning on my own frail faith. I'm terrified that I'll be returned to the desert and I'll be destroyed there, that some how I would get lost in the valley of the shadow, trapped wandering in an endless dark wilderness. I'm afraid that I'll lose hope. I'm afraid that I'll fail, that God will ask something of me, will give me some responsibility, and because of where I am, I will utterly fail. And even as I write these I recognize them as lies that I have given power over my life. Only one question really remains for me to answer, it's Jesus' question to the man who had been paralyzed for 38 years, "Do you want to get well?" Dear God, yes I want to be made well, not just healed. Have your way with me, I surrender myself to you will, do with me as you desire, even if it means destroying me in the process. I don't want to live any longer, I only long for Christ to live in me. Create me in a clean heart, O God. It's time...