I am convinced that the cynics and realists in this world are just hurt idealists.
“Don’t be naive” is the favorite line of many fearful girls transitioning to womanhood. They chant it in their heads, they sing it to the mirror as they crane their necks to the side and stare into their own reflection. I say they because I know I’ve done it, and the more women I talk to the more I find the story repeats itself.
It is a woman’s independence, or so we’re told (or so we tell ourselves), that thrives and depends on our separation from emotion. We want “independence”, it’s a marketable product.. an idea that sells well. We don’t want emotion. DEAR GOD! No emotion? Strip ourselves of the very thing that makes us stronger than the majority of the world?! It is not emotion that we are to fear, it is the inability or the lack of understanding on how to maintain those emotions. Facing your emotions is not a marketable thing— it comes with dirty implications. You are weak, you are imperfect, and there is something wrong.
Same thing with crying. Similar with communication issues. Similar with confrontation and discomfort. Anything that might stir the proverbial pot or ruffle a few feathers in our lives— something that, oh God… might wake us up and bring us back to the raw beauty of REALITY— is demanded to be repressed… or, just as dreadful, given top priority and becomes the idol above all else. Gut feelings are there for a reason, but are they to be our everything? Feelings, like most temporal things, pass. However, don’t be an IDIOT and just ignore them. Acknowledge and figure out where they’re taking you. Go down the freaking rabbit hole every once in a while, because you’re either going to fall down it yourself and deal with the issues at the bottom of it or someone else will push you down it in a moment when you least expect it, ready or not.
Why feel guilty about the desires of your heart? You’re wrong if you want to be a stay at home soccer mom and you’re wrong if you don’t want to have kids. You’re wrong if you drink a glass of wine with your friends and you’re wrong if you don’t. You’re wrong if you let profanity slip in a vulnerable moment and you’re wrong if you prefer to keep it pc. We are our own worst enemies.
“I’m glad you’re not as harsh with me as you are with yourself. I’d hate you if you were, and we might have to fight,”
says my friend to me one night when we’re confessing very deep things from even deeper places in our hearts. At this point she’s already had me drinking deep from the well of my own issues and.. well, the water’s pretty bitter.
So why be so harsh? Why, when I have the confidence and strength of the Lord, when I counted myself as strong and beautiful and did not compare, have I now come face to face with a year and long struggle with all of it? Who knows. Why does it matter?
I could be fat, skinny, long-haired, short-haired. I have scars and stretch marks, my thighs touch, I love to run long distances and sweat and let my muscles ache. I love to drink a good glass of red wine with my mother on the back porch or while I’m cooking dinner with friends. I like to eat dark chocolate and I don’t handle sugar well. I love to travel and write, to sing and dance. I like to garden and and get my hands dirty, but I don’t like bugs. I love the God who calls me by name, and speaks with me and tells me about things that were and things that have yet to be. It’s crystal clear and confusing as Hell.
All of this can and has been questioned. By myself, and by others. BUT WHAT DOES IT MATTER? What does it look like to be right? To be wrong? To be fat, or skinny? To know it all or to know nothing at all. To feel like you are everything or nothing? To be yellow or red, black or white? Why are we so afraid of these things.
To have control is a much craved thing. If I don’t commit to a thing, then I have the control of not having responsibility of the outcome but still reap the benefits of the event. BUT I AM RESPONSIBLE, whether I accept it or not.
God, in all goodness, will allow friction in your life to bring out your worst fears and deepest rooted issues. It’s a beautiful thing because when you face your monsters, you realize they’re just shadows, they’re just puppets on strings or smoke and mirrors.. just something that was holding you back from being ultimately free. The kind of free where your mind isn’t reeling when you lay down to sleep at night. The kind of free that doesn’t have your claws showing at every misinterpreted word your friends and family speak.
I am dealing with the smoke and mirrors. I’m writing it out for the other messy people in this world who are processing, as well. IT’S OKAY TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH YOUR MONSTERS… but you’ve got to face them, and realize that they’re liars, anyway. It’s okay to simply be who you are, where you are, and to love yourself for that. We are all just perfectly messy, anyway. The best thing to do is to accept that we’re all in it together. Not for the sake of condemnation, it’s not my job to judge you or for you to judge me— but we can be real and messy in it together. There’s a truth and freedom that’s bigger than the dirt beneath our fingernails.
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