Untying the Knots

It's amazing how quickly time passes. It has been well over a month since my last post! In that time, we've replaced all of our floors, had our deck and play set stained, organized the garage, chopped off my hair, gone on vacation...CHOPPED off my HAIR...

Yes it's true. I finally did it! The hair is gone and with it are all the beliefs that kept me in bondage for so long. Well, at least they're mostly gone. The roots are certainly deep and so more truthfully said, the hair cutting ceremony marks the beginning of a journey of letting go.

For several days after the hair cut, I looked at myself in the mirror and though I expected to see someone else, I was still me. At the same time I was also a different version of me. It has been a moment by moment process of questioning and accepting, fearing and doubting, hoping and embracing. I truly feel like I am moving in a direction of a me set free but damn is it painful at times. The fear is so powerful. The hope is so risky. But the freedom is undoubtedly necessary.

After all, God didn't create me to be someone else. God didn't create me to fit into molds crafted by others' expectations. God didn't create me to be anything else but me. And so me, I shall be.

Eventually.

_And also, dear God, please help me to raise my daughter in an environment where cutting her hair or not cutting her is just not this big of a deal. That is all. xx_

Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

So what's the big deal if sometimes my words don't come out right or I say the wrong thing at the wrong time? What does it matter if I misread, misinterpret or misunderstand? So what if I don't get it right the first time every time?


So what?


It is so easy to ask myself these questions and in so doing really convince myself that I don't have to care so much about screwing up, wigging out or stepping back. In fact, in this moment, I truly feel in my soul that it's okay- even healthy- for me to do these things from time to time. But in the next moment, the very second I might open my mouth and words pop out and I am staring in the face of another human being, I sell my soul to the devil. I stop feeling the freedom to be human. I start feeling flawed, messed up, useless. I feel like an impostor, a fraud, and a liar.

But the reality is, it isn't so much that I am the liar. There is an enemy who has a hold of my brain and my heart and who feeds me these lies that keep me all tied up. I give in to the fear that I'm not good enough. That I'm a screw up. I'm not smart enough, pretty enough, creative enough, articulate enough. I'm too quiet. I'm too loud. I'm too happy, too sad. I'm too passive, too controlling. I'm too emotional, too distant.


It is maddening.


I want it to stop.  I want to sit in a room with a group of people and feel like I am comfortable in my own skin, my own mouth, my own brain. That what I say matters as much and as little as the next person. That I am not measured by my single contribution to a moment but that my single contribution can also be the moment itself.


I so desperately want to just be free. Free to be me. 


So, to the enemy: 
You don't get to win anymore. I see you for what you are. Liar, liar pants on fire.

A Plea

28 july 2009

Alright,

Here is my first attempt at seeking you and I'm scared to death you're going to let me down. I can't bear to think that you don't actually hear me, see me, love me...that what I do or say or am really even matters at all.

My intent is not to capture you but to make myself available to be captured. I'm laughing because I don't even know what that means. All I see as I write is me in the middle of a huge, green field -alone- with my arms open wide... and I'm spinning, spinning, spinning...looking up into the clean, gray sky...hoping, expecting, needing you to reach down, around, over and love me with your warm, giant, comforting arms. Do you have arms?

Maybe I'll feel your arms in the warmth of the wind on a July day such as this. What if it's you but I totally miss it?

Will you come again?

I guess you will because from what I hear, you want me more than I want you. I don't even know if I really want you. Who are you? I'll always wonder. Maybe I'll want all of you someday but today, now, what I long for is peace, purpose, joy, love. I want to be comforted and called. I want to have love for you and love for myself. I want to see that my life might actually matter more than I can understand. I want to be unique and lovely but I certainly don't want to stay broken forever.

How do I rebuild? Can you, oh Carpenter, can you put me back together? Can you make me flawless and broken and tarnished and glorious in you?

Will you meet me in the field? I'll stay put as long as I can but I'm scared to death you'll let me down.

Alright, God.
Here I am.
This is me.
Seeking you.

Self-Reflection

14 April 2007

Will You See?

I am so tired of being a box.

I don’t have six sides and I’m not square, so why do you box me?

I am more than what you think, trust me.

I have breasts and a vagina but that’s not all.

My vagina does not define me for you.

I am a woman but I am no woman like you think I am.

Don’t take me into your brain, your bedroom, and play chess on my ass.

I am not your toy or your game or the hand that strokes your ego.

If I am beautiful, don’t hold it against me.

And don’t hold me to it.

My ugly is my harbor.

I am lovely and brave and I am dark and afraid.

I will love but I will hate.

I will harm you and I will like it.

I will watch you bleed.

I will feel sorrow and shame and will hunger for repentance.

I will cry and ache.

I will swear to love you and I will stab my heart with your bloody sword.

I am a warrior, a shepherd, a queen.

I am a child, a storm, and a blaze.

I am both a womb and a tomb.

I will breathe life and I will suffocate.

I am death and resurrection.

I am no god but I will try.

I will bring warmth and the blueness of ice.

I will make you wonder.

You will starve with dissatisfaction, trust me.

You will see my back but at least you will see me at all.

You will see my brilliance, my grace.

You will find joy in my laughter and rest in my love.

You will scream with frustration and dance with celebration.

You will love me and you will want to leave me.

You will fight for me and against me.

You will find wealth and glory.

Free me from this box.

Free me from this box and dance with me.

I am more than what you think.

I am not my vagina.

I am this and I am this and I am this.

I am not that.

Will You See?

I am not that.

Today, 9 April 2012

In there somewhere is me. I hear in those words the complexity of the human heart, the beauty and the depravity. The glory of being God's daughter and the emptiness that has haunted us all since the Fall. We are relentlessly and wholly lost. It seems we have moments where we feel "found" in which we experience a sense of belonging and purpose and hope... and then the moment escapes us and we're left with the harshness of a world that was only intended to be a temporary home, with dreams that come daringly close to being fulfilled but ultimately only leave us realizing what is not ours this side of heaven.

I hear them...

I hear the powerful voice of a grown woman blazing a path, claiming a truth and defining a purpose. Get it, girl.

She is strong and confident and says yes only when she wants to. She is driven and calculated. She is kind and wise. She has stretch marks and wrinkles and rough patches on her feet. She dances with her words and hugs with her eyes. She speaks with intention. She listens, she loves, she gives. She moves without caution and follows the rhythm of the Spirit. She is free and she is lovely.

I hear the demanding voice of an adolescent waving her fist to the heavens.

She's wounded, she's angry and she intends to take on the world. And she doesn't really care if she dies trying. She is taking her life into her own hands regardless of the cost. She has tried living life their way but it has earned her nothing but scars. She is finished with praying, finished with giving, finished with trusting. She doesn't care what people think, do or say. She doesn't believe in love. She hates hope. And faith is a joke played on a fool.

More subtle is the quiet voice of a young child.

A child who still believes in life and love and hope. A child who remembers the faces of those who stayed, those who listened, and those who loved. A child who is waiting patiently for the war to end, knowing that it's being fought on her behalf. Believing that healing and freedom is just on the other side.

I am trying to see...

I promise, little one. I am trying to find you.

Love,

Self

Dead Minerals

We recently replaced our old, ugly white linoleum kitchen floor with gorgeous grey tiles. In the next month or so, we'll also be pulling up our old, dingy carpet and putting down driftwood-like laminate. We'll repaint the trim and update our stair rail for the perfect finishing touches. After that, we'll be staining our dingy, muted deck and playset this fresh, new grey color and we'll be freshening up (and tearing out) a lot of our over-grown, how-does-anyone-handle-this-many-plants- kind of landscaping. Our house is getting a much-needed face lift from head to toe, inside and out. We're cleaning, simplifying and personalizing and it's really exciting.

At the same time, it's also a bit nerve-wrecking. Bryan and I both have student loan debt and so though we aren't poor, we certainly do not feel like we have the freedom to spend our money however, wherever and whenever we want. We make extremely calculated decisions about money and even then, when it's time to commit a large sum of money to somewhere other than debt, we get anxious.

Is this a good decision? What if something unpredictable happens and we need this money later? Are we being poor stewards? Is it worth it? What about all of the people living in our world without a place to call home? Is it necessary for us to have new floors, really?

I think these are all good questions and I certainly go back and forth and feel quite a bit of ambivalence in the midst of the face lift but usually, once all is said and done, I'm really grateful for the change, the growth, and the obvious markings that we're growing up.

I think this directly relates with how I am feeling about my own Self at this point. I am coming off of this freedom high and I'm feeling profoundly grateful. I am also feeling a very strong urge to mark this chapter in a very significant way. I want to start fresh. I want to replace the old foundation with a stronger, free-er one. I want to discard the excess and freshen up the timeless, significant pieces that were previously buried. I want my outside to reflect the freedom that I feel (and hope to keep feeling) on the inside!

I'm a bit too noncommittal to go the tattoo route at this point so the closest other marker I can think of is to cut my hair. I want a new look.

For many people, a hair cut is just not that big of a deal. It's impermanent. It always grows back. No big deal. After all, it's just dead minerals, right?

Well, sort of. Except that for me, my hair has always been so much more. In a large way my hair has been a significant part of my identity (partly by overt choice) and an avenue for self-expression. Growing up I was "the girl with the long blonde hair" (people-pleasing). Then I became "the girl who used to have long hair and then she cut it off" (boundary-questioning). And then "the girl who had the blonde hair but then dyed it black" (middle-finger flaunting). Then "the girl with the dreads" (growth embracing). And then "the girl with the blonde, blue, and black hair" (self-exploring).

Today, my hair is anything but note-worthy or noticeable but I still think it's a way that I like to air out what's going on inside. My hair is pretty normal and boring. Nothing extravagant or edgy. Just straight, dark blonde, medium length boring, safe hair. This was fine for awhile because I was a new mom who was devoting all of her time and energy on a baby. My identity became "mommy" and I chose to put my hair-assessing, self-expressing self aside. I think this was fine and there was a time and place for it. However, now, it feels evident that this is no longer the time or place:

I need a hair-lift.

But, just like with face-lifting the house, I feel huge buckets of ambivalence about cutting my hair. What if I hate it? What if it takes longer to style? OMG- what if I have to blow-dry-it-every-single-day? (Nightmare!) What if I look 12? What if I look like a boy? What if Bryan hates it? (Truly, not gonna happen.) What if my mom hates it? (Might happen but should I care as much as I do?) What if I miss having a pony tail (my life line some mornings)? What if I regret cutting it? What if? What if? What if?

.............

What if I remember that it's just hair? What if I remember that my hair does not actually define me? What if I remember that I am more than my hair?

Thank God my life is not defined by dead minerals.

And it is impermanent and it will grow back. My hair can be an avenue through which I choose to express myself and a window through which I can air out my insides but it certainly does not name me, claim me, or change me. It is just hair.

I suppose if I remember all that, this time next week, I might be writing with a new 'd0! :) Stay tuned...

On the Cusp

I really feel like I'm on the cusp of something. I am thinking that something looks, feels, and smells a lot like freedom and I am giddy with anticipation. This recent season has been dark and twisty and murky and heavy and achy and ick. It has been full and empty. Bitter and redemptive. It has been exactly what I needed.

I don't intend to communicate that I have arrived or that my life is figured out or that I'll be writing a best-selling Self-Help book called "Do What I Did and It Will Fix Your Problems". Nope. Not what I'm saying.

I am saying, however, that I can see some light, some glory, some refuge from the ick. I can feel something different. Something, as I mentioned, that looks, feels, and smells a lot like freedom! I'm not sure why, today, this afternoon, in the midst of crazy work schedules, hot summer sunshine, contractors in and out, and a sweet afternoon date with two friends, that my Lady God decided to grant me a bit of freedom, but She most certainly did. And I am soaking it up.

It may or may not have had something to do with the shiny, large, powerful black Escalade that I drove today with all the windows down and music blasting. How can you not feel free (unstoppable?) in a moment like that?! (It.Was.Awesome.)

For my own wishful keeping, I want to jot down some of what I will call my freedom thoughts:

1.) I believe God is inviting me to dance figuratively...as an expression of freedom. God wants me to be free!

2.) I believe in God's words to me through a Prophejess. About dancing. About pain. My flask. My life, my story, my tears... leading to healing for others. I also believe that this was God's way of making it clear that She hears and sees me.

3.) I believe in asking myself in a "like duh" voice, "why don't I like myself?! I'm ok!".

4.) I believe I'm not that "other" and I'm uniquely me at the same time.

5.) I believe in embracing the fullness of who I am and loving her.

6.) I believe in running at 5:45 am.

7.) I believe that in realizing I'm sabotaging hope, I can name it and choose something different.

8.) I believe in embracing my raw authentic self and allowing her to mature naturally.

9.) I believe in letting hope be hope.

10.) I believe in cutting my hair.

11.) I believe that being ordinary is okay.

12.) I believe in real conversations with good friends.

13.) I believe in honesty.

14.) I believe in the power of hands-on prayer.

15.) I believe in turning pages to new chapters.

16.) I believe in spiritual gifts.

17.) I believe in miracles.

18.) I believe in blogging.

...To be continued, I'm sure...

Be still and know

I want to be better at paying attention

Better at listening and seeing.

I want to be better at the quiet and the still.

Better at believing.

I want to hear you, see you, feel you.

I want to pour out my flask and untie my knots.

Help me hear beyond the voices,

and dance through the darkness.

Help me see beyond the faces,

and speak through the silence.

Help me love beyond the pain,

and write through the questions.

Go away self-doubt and judgement,

I want to find inner peace.

Go away fear and self-pity,

I want to find honest strength.

Go away chaos and confusion,

I want to find my soul's right path.

So that I might be free to be and do

As you have called.

So help me God.