Reckoning. Reconciling. Learning to trust again.
Reckoning. Reconciling. Learning to trust again.
It is so strange how our life experiences serve to teach us…I think they do anyway.
I read a quote, “Instead of asking why is this happening to me, ask what is this teaching me?” Instant shift.
It really is an instant shift. I begin to ask myself what my accountability in the experience is, how it is familiar to choices I have made before, and I can explore what is at the root of my choice. Hopefully, even if I can’t clarify the lesson, I can find value in the journey.
Goodness sometimes life surprises me. People surprise me. Sometimes in ways that make my heart sting, other times in ways that make my heart soar…and everything in between. Trying to remember that in many cases, the hurt someone caused is so much more about them than me but my mind has a much easier time grasping this than my silly heart.
So, my questions of the day…what am I learning right in this moment and dear God, where do I go from here?
Happy Tuesday my loves. Enjoy your journey today (and every day)!
Sitting in my group psychotherapy class, in a group….it’s my turn to share. We had each made a collage with images or words that symbolized our spiritual life, gender role, sexual orientation, masks we wear, an identity not mentioned that was important to us and a few other things.
We had been a little bit focused on the topic of death, namely, how our lives would change if we knew we only had 10 years left to live. There were discussions of dropping out of grad school, deciding no children could be birthed if there were only 10 years with them, and support for having kids even though because the experience was so valuable. It wasn’t my turn to speak yet, my mind was spinning with thoughts. 10 years! 10 years? TEN YEARS! What a gift! I thought back to the stroke in 2009 and how terrified I was to die. If someone promised me 10 more years from now, it would almost be a relief. Then I could stop wondering how much more time I had with my people and in this life. Ten years seems awfully precious when I consider that no one actually knows if they even have the next moment.
The question was posed directly to me, “What was the hardest thing on your collage for you?” I began sharing; “You see, in 2009, I had a massive stroke, I had to learn to walk again.” Having my own mortality in my face like that and realizing how precious it was to be able to walk contributes well to thinking that 10 more years is a gift. Our professor remarked, “Gosh, you are almost 10 years out from that stroke.” I am! I hadn’t even thought of that, and somehow it seems like something that I should celebrate even more than I do every other year.
(SIDENOTE: I know I drive others crazy with my selfie taking and insistence on picture taking during nearly anything. My classmates were fussing about precisely this at lunch today, thus, I explained to them the why’s of my insistence.
My Daddy lost his memories with his Alzheimer’s. I recognized from that how very important pictures were in helping tell him stories, whether he recalled or not, we remembered precious moments. Also, after the stroke, I lost a few big chunks of memories that I treasure. In looking at pictures or videos, it will often trigger a memory recollection that I had lost. Lastly, I NEVER took a selfie until after my divorce. I’m truly not vain. However, I do cherish memories and know it is possible to lose them. This is why I like to have so many pictures. The selfies….they help me remember where I’ve been and how far (usually) I’ve come.)
I continued, “So, the hardest thing on this collage is the blank spot on the bottom left corner. It is blank because I couldn’t find the word.” “I was looking for the word chosen“.
This ties in with my ideas of spirituality. I can trust the process. I can trust that I am right where I am meant to be. I can trust that I have a bright future ahead. I can trust God. “The reason that chosen ties in with this seems insignificant but I know it’s not.” In my heart, I know that I have been chosen for many things that I am not deserving of. I am healthy, whole and breathing, for a start.
I explained in detail, “When I look back and see how God has put the puzzle pieces together, I know He is trustworthy. In hindsight, He is good. However, for the future, I struggle with this whole trust thing hugely. There are two driving factors to my thinking.
First, I am not really sure that the desires of my heart are worth His time, or the plan, or whatever. Second, I still grapple with the lifetime thoughts that I am not worth it. Period. That said, I took a deep breath and shared what my deepest desire was.
I absolutely want to share my life with a mate. This is terrifying to me. I explained, “My ex-husband is my best friend, we were together for 23 years and I don’t want to lose that friendship.” Hard questions followed and the tears that had started flowing the minute I spoke hadn’t stopped. I decided that my vulnerability in this moment was a good thing, even if it totally sucked. I know (believe) that when I give my heart to someone, the relationship between my ex and I will need to change.
We will always be important to one another, and we will always have a friendship and co-parent our precious children. However, we still at times share the intimate nature of friendship that I feel belongs in a relationship. No more romance but all of the deep connection. It’s weird. I just know deep down that will change; and although it could be very positive, it’s super scary. For 23 years, we have been there for one another. Who will ever know me so well? I don’t know how to navigate any of this so even thinking about the possibilities makes me want to throw up in my mouth.
Despite these fears, I long for that intimate, soul sharing connection with the man who I hope exists not just in my heart and mind. I pray my desires aren’t denied. I don’t like saying any of this. It’s quite uncomfortable. I do not ‘need’ a man. If it is true that I want my own fairy tale, I am resentful of even wanting that. I recognize that my fears are holding me back and I am trying my damnedest to work my way out of them.
Back to the word, “chosen“…let me paint what this looks like to me. I want to be the woman that is not second choice to another woman and is in competition with no one. I want to choose and be chosen; to cherish and be cherished; to treasure and be treasured; to accept and be accepted; to trust and be trusted; and to passionately love and be passionately loved. All with the wildness and naturalness we are capable of.
Whether my hair is long or short, my booty is flat or bubblicious, whether my emotions are a jumbled mess or I am steady as a surgeon’s hand…just see me (an my people) and love me (us) right there, just like that. Just as I am (we are).
Is that a crazy notion? I want to give these things right back, in the manner they are needed. I guess this is my version of a fairy tale. I went to the restroom and cleaned of my mascara stained face, then returned to my desk. I picked up my pen and began an unfiltered 3 page list of what had happened or changed in my life in the past 10 years. Just look at this…
2009 – 2019
I’m breathing. What a miracle I am. What a miracle we all are. This gift of life is one I can barely grasp. What did I do to deserve the goodness of being here and of being me? Chosen. Yes. Want to be chosen in other ways? Yes.
So ya…10 years. An amazing gift.
I wasn’t going to write tonight. Each time I had started to do so, I came up with nothing but feisty, unkind, passive aggressive wording, yet, here I am. Thanks to the love, prayers, positive energy and encouragement that surround me, I have decided to try to be brave and share my heart. Let’s hope I don’t regret it in the morning.
This is not a pretty post. Not at all. It’s kind of ugly and I just pray that I keep it about my experience and not someone else’s story. Whatever.
I am in the middle of learning some tough lessons. About myself, relationships, the difference between love and lust…so much. So fucking much. Lessons that I expect I ‘should’ have down by down at the ripe age of 46. I guess after being with one man for 23 years, I’m not joking when I say I am like a teenager at times and these growing pains are simply yuck.
My heart aches. Deeply. Every time I face rejection from a man, in any aspect, it’s like I bring into it a lifetime of rejection. It rapidly becomes all about everything I am not rather than about what the situation really is. Tonight, someone I am particularly fond and who has been precious (in my eyes) ‘defriended’ me on social media. Really. So familiar to what I hear my teenagers struggle with at times. I don’t even know why. It doesn’t matter. It stung and started a flood of tears that I can’t seem to stop.
An onslaught of failures, lies and struggles suck me in. Failed marriage. Poor choices. Less than. Never enough. Won’t happen. Negligent. Disorganized. Scattered. Settled for. Two faced. Fat. Broken. Messed up. Crazy. Damaged. Wounded. Stubborn. Less than, again. Optional. Disposable. Debris. Stupid. Boring. Too much. Not enough, again. Temporary. Unworthy. Plain. Short hair. Gross. Hurting. The list goes on.
Through it all, my mind keeps hearing the words of a dear friends prayer for me, along with a sermon that I have listened to numerous times lately. It’s all about the story we tell ourselves. We might tell ourselves something that is not necessarily a lie, but instead a twisted up version of the truth. It really pinged my heart because I know that I tend to live in the truth of my story instead of the truth of who God really made me to be….especially in regard to my relationships with men.
I am happily confident in my job, work hard in school, and adore my internship. I am a magnificent friend, the best Momma for my kids and try hard to fill my other roles with all the love, giving, compassion and care that I can give. Bottom line, I feel ‘good enough’ in these roles for the most part and when I don’t, I make changes accordingly. That’s one Sarah. She knows who she is and what she wants. She believes it is just as important to play hard as it is to work hard; she is not hesitant to go for what she wants.
Then…there is the Sarah who sees herself as disposable. She is seeking a real and deep love, a true connection with a gentleman that holds truth and freedom in it. She is looking for the hands that will hold her heart with love, gentleness and protection. She knows she has much to give BUT….this woman sees herself as a young girl who is overweight, awkward, painfully shy and unwanted. No matter how she ‘looks’ to others, and despite the way she works on positive changes…she mostly sees herself as someone broken, deeply lacking or undesirable. This feeling sucks. I know it’s not truth, but it ‘feels’ truthful in the moment and operating from that truth leads to a plethora of poor choices. Choices that disregard who I am at my core and what I hope for in this life. Choices that are made out of a fear of being without companionship. Choices that give a temporary band-aid to lonely feelings but absolutely do not result in long term fulfillment. Choices that are made because there is gratitude that someone desires me vs. knowing it is a privilege to have time with me.
I’m not speaking to intentional choices I make as a grown woman to participate in relationships that are fun, fulfilling in their own way and not long term. I am referring specifically to participating in relationships knowing full well that it won’t be what I want it to be, but choosing to believe I can change it to what I desire. I can BS myself like no other, but don’t worry, I speak the truth to others. So often that it gets me in trouble…not everyone wants that.
The story that I tell myself is that I will never find the love of my life, so I may as well enjoy whatever the moment offers. I will not ever be ‘the one’ to someone special, so I shall act accordingly. I’ve already had that, kind of, so God wants me to live the rest of my life alone and serving others. (I put those words to God, nothing I feel from him). I may as well go for the men who are not going to be long lasting, because in the end, they will leave. So why choose the ones I will really give my heart to? They too, will leave. Both will hurt but the latter will hurt far less. Choose the lesser of two evils, right? In the process, I am getting hurt and I am hurting others…unintentional as it may be. All of my protective forces are accomplishing nothing worth mentioning.
Who knows what of this is true and what is not? I know I am supposed to honor who I believe I am…a brave, worthy, happy, truly loved by God, whimsical, whole and surrendered woman. That is who I believe I was made to be, yet when I am engaging with men I am willing to trade that in for whatever they need me to be. That’s got to be better than what I really have to offer, right? Better even, let me serve as therapist and best friend ever, maybe even as a nurturing mom role. Ewwww. But it comes so natural.
A precious friend recently told me that “God made me and his work is always beautiful”. I love that friend and his heart. I want to believe his words. My heart agrees, it is beautiful…my brain taunts me by letting me know I’ll never measure up. But to who? How long am I going to let others opinion of me determine how I view myself. It’s ridiculous. Real stuff, but ridiculous.
I have a safety plan. Another dear friend and I have a ‘twenty year plan’. If neither of us are married at age 60, or in 20 years…we can marry each other. This is our little funny! In truth, I freak myself out. What if I die before then without experiencing the gift of a deep and abiding love with the ‘right’ man. I know…God’s timing…it’s just so hard for me to trust.
I am tired. I cannot believe I am ‘here’. There are new crinkles around my eyes and I see faint wrinkles on the delicate skin of my neck. I can’t seem to keep up with the fastness of passing time.
My precious children…lots of love and hugs from them tonight. That should be more than sufficient. Why do I long for anything more? I just do. Even in my deep gratitude, there is a constant yearning.
This is my story. I’m trying to figure out how to live in the truth of who I am…in ALL of the circumstances and with ALL of the people. I am trying to let go of the story I once helped me survive and embrace the story that is truth.
This is my honesty.
Transformation, alteration, renewal, metamorphosis….constant change is a certainty of this human experience. Stubborn resistance may root us in place. Still, the very change that surrounds will also change us. Why resist? We are forever becoming.
I was playing a little game with a friend, we were giving each other a number, and we had to share the photo from our phones that matched that number. He asked to see the 10th picture of only me.
The 10th picture of only me sent me spinning with shame and embarrassment. I could not show him this one. However, I promised…no cheating. Before sending the photo, I let him know that this was taken at one of the worst times of my life. My ex-husband had just told me he no longer loved me and wanted a divorce; my precious daddy was dying after a 12 year battle with Alzheimer’s. The picture (which is here for all the world to see) was a clear image of a lady who had no love for herself and her eyes held a deep sadness, despite the smile on her face. The only reason I share it is because I am trying to practice what I preach…vulnerability and transparency. In this moment, I also share in hopes of diminishing the pier of shame this photo holds.
This precious friend heard my shame and replied with, ‘it’s just a selfie, look at your smile’. Then he made me laugh with a gentle joke about chipmunk cheeks. I never thought I’d giggle looking at that picture, but I did, and it was genuine. However, I have obsessed over that picture since. It’s not just that I hadn’t realized how much I changed, it brought back a rush of painful memories.
I remember the day the man who was the only love I’d ever known told me he was leaving. I was inundated with feelings of unworthiness, disposability and fear. For some reason, I made a little video on my phone to myself. I guess to commemorate the day. I very clearly stated (to myself) that I wanted to learn to love myself, no matter who else loved or didn’t love me. That my friends, is the journey of transformation I have been and am still on.
My timehop today reminded me that at this time last year, I had lost 20 pounds on Weight Watchers. I then stopped Weight Watchers, and started doing my own thing. It’s called the ‘keto’ish but not all the way because life is too short to not enjoy ice cream” diet. Clean eating pretty much, low carb, very low sugar and almost no processed foods. In doing this, I have lost another 28 pounds. This makes 48 pounds gone! I should be so proud.
Rather, my first reaction was “wow!, but I have so long to go.” I began a laundry list of all the men who would like me better if I had a better body, and of how life would be different if my ass matched my sass! (Borrowed from a favorite meme). Somehow, I stopped myself in the middle of my negative recitation. I wondered to myself, “what will it take for me to be good enough?”
I asked myself what I wanted. Easy. I want to love myself. As is. I want to believe I am enough and honor that deeply, no matter where I am on my journey. I want to be excited about the work I am doing for ME while enjoying who I am right in this moment.
I want to practice gratitude, for I have so much to be grateful for. I am here, breathing. I am a miracle, just as we all are. Life is the celebration! I have two legs that are strong and lovely, and they get me where I want to go. The gift of walking was taken away from me in 2009 and I had to relearn that skill at the age of 35. How dare I fuss that I am not enough? My heart is strong; it is full of love, life and laughter. I can easily exercise on the elliptical for 35 minutes without rest. I might not be the most graceful, but I am me and I am a masterpiece. There is no one like me, ever, anywhere. I am blessed in every way, I want to remember this every second of every moment of every day.
I want to realize that when someone asks me out on a date, they are every bit as lucky to have time with me as I am to have time with them. It is not settling to be with me, it is a gift, for I am pretty damn cool. I want to stand in this truth. It changes my choices, it changes everything.
I want to show my kiddos who I am at my core and that we are ALL capable and worthy of beautiful, positive, transformation…their Momma included.
There is so much joy in the transformation these days…one day the pain will be nothing but a motivator for better.
Did you know that if you die and have no resources, and no friends or family that pay for it, Tulsa County Social Services will see to it that you are buried or cremated?
I knew this but let me say…when it is a client that you adore (or even don’t) who is the one being buried or cremated by them, it’s sooooo hard. The difficulty isn’t not in what TCSS does, but in knowing that client truly had nothing and no one.
It’s never the material things that matter. We all experience loneliness at times. But…to think of being that alone in your is scary and sad.
It’s been so heavy on my heart, I think because I wonder if that person ever felt or knew that they mattered. I hope so.
I can’t really do anything to resolve this but love, love, and love some more.
Small things matter. Smiles matter. Eye contact matters. Hugs matter. Asking someone how they are and really listening to their heart…this matters.
Every person matters.❤️
I have this gut feeling that some intensely real part of me has been hibernating for years and like a baby bear coming out of a dark cave, it’s beginning to awaken. 2019 will be my last year of grad school. Working full time, momming, daughtering, schooling, working, interning….blah, blah, blah. It’s going to be a whirlwind of a year! I am amazed when I look back and see how far I’ve come (and I am overwhelmed when I see how far I have to go!)
We humans are ever-evolving, exploring creatures. I am in awe of our capacity for resilience and growth. That capacity gives me hope for us all. It especially gives me hope for myself because I dream of the day I am all grown up in the ways that matter.
Here’s what I am trying to grasp about being a grown up:
The magic is in the mercy. The gift is in the grace. Over and over and over I fail. Over and over and over I receive these compassions. I am surrounded with grace giving, magic mercy making, lovers of my heart and I am intensely blessed.
Happiest Thanksgiving everyone! As I was mixing my banana pudding ingredients this morning, one of my beaters broke in half and flew across the room…no joke. That is such a mirror to my life right now…things that aren’t supposed to (according to my plans) are unexpectedly flying apart. I can’t help but continue to giggle at the irony of life. My siblings, Momma and I all shared a Happy Thanksgiving love you text this morning and my Momma added…”There’s not an ugly one in the bunch!” My heart smiled so big…this is what my Daddy always said. My heart feels his physical absence super strong this particular holiday season. I have a dear friend in the hospital, two parents I read about just lost their son, my own heart is struggling and I just want my Daddy to hold me tight and let me know everything is going to be alright. So…as I sit in my warm home waiting for the sweet potatoes to be done baking, I sit and write and cry some big ole tears. I contemplate all that I am grateful for. I’m contemplating gratitude not to distract myself from the hurt but to remind myself of the joy in the journey. Again, pain and joy coincide. My God who loves me bigger, wider and deeper than I can comprehend and the faith I have that he is tangible and real in my life, and holds me as I cry. I hurt, but I am certain I am not a Fatherless child in any way. John and Stella and their sweet Daddy, Nathan. They are the hearts that exist outside of my body and within my own heart always. Looking at them consistently reminds me that I’m not in control, even of ‘my’ most prized and cherished treasures. They stretch me in every way, challenge me to be my best and if ever I forget gratitude, I need to do no more than remember I thought a child would never come from my own body. My family. There really isn’t an ugly one in the bunch. I’m talking the inside and the outside. The hearts in this bunch are gloriously beautiful, extravagantly loving and the best shelter a girl could ever have. My friends. We wrap each other in encouragement and love and sometimes we annoy the crap out of each other. Wouldn’t want to do life without them. Healing hearts. The journey of life. Letting go of my attachment to the outcome and learning to just trust the process. Seriously. Christmas music, cooking, warm toes, yummy smelling candles, new experiences, coffee, fur babies, poetry, writing, the ability to contemplate and choose, growth, openness, trust, laughter and tears, prayer, the knowing that despite all of our differences, we are all the same, worship, compassion, tenderness, kissing, kissing, kissing, hugs, kissing, love, snuggles, opportunities, crispy fall leaves (especially heart shaped ones), walking in the sunshine, rainy days, catching snowflakes on my tongue, being a woman and enjoying my feminine self, tolerance, perspective, pennies from Heaven, baby goats, chickens, the bestest cohort ever in the whole wide world, lipstick, perfume, learning that presence is really is the most significant present, connection, conversations, the gift of angels unaware……I could go on for eons. Strange that my heart is so much more peaceful than it was 20 minutes ago. I am held, always, no matter what. So are you. Somehow, everything is going to be alright. No matter where you are in life right now, I pray that peace , hope, health and joy encompass you in the most unexpected ways. Happiest Thanksgiving dear ones.
This post doesn’t want to happen. This post is resisting moving from head to heart in every way. This post knows it contains some deep potential for growth. Hands on the keyboard, my fingers tap out whatever is inside of me, initially unedited. I am assured that this is a post that must be written. It is difficult to know where to begin when one is spinning in a multitude of directions. Gut, heart and brain are in the midst of great conflict and soul keeps saying, “keep going, keep going, keep going”. The internal struggle isn’t new. What’s new, is is being able to grasp that not being exactly where I want to be is okay, I just am where I am. Honestly, sometimes that pisses me off, but that’s all part of being where I’m supposed to be too.
A memory that I had written one year ago today popped up on my Facebook timeline. No accidents, God’s timing deserves a mic drop, again.
“There is an adventurous 19 year old girl inside of me that really just wants to come out and play. There is also a 45 year old wounded but wise grown up in me who speaks a tiny bit louder that that frivolous 19 year old girl. There is always that “good girl” mentality deep in my heart, even when I am trying to drown her out. Honestly, she’s a little ‘over-concerned’ with image. The thing is, they’ve all been struggling and arguing and have finally decided that they can meet in the middle and explore life. I wonder what this is going to look like?”
A year later…what does it look like? Here’s what I’ve come to learn in the past year about Sarah, the woman. She delights in being playful, yet she craves deep connection and reverent solitude too. She still has wounds, old and new. The martini glass looking patch over the hole in her heart is something that makes her acutely familiar with the healing process. She knows that sealing some old wounds with healthy protection is the best way to heal. She sometimes forgets that this is a very rare situation, because generally, the best path to healing is to stay open, yielding and aware rather than placing a seal over a wound. Besides, although she can’t see that martini glass patch without special examination, she still knows it is there. She is strong, and she is fragile.
She has pieces of every experience of every age inside of her…from birth to right now, a 46 year old woman. She is a mosaic. She spends a good amount of time trying to figure out how all of those pieces fit together to create the masterpiece God made her to be. (This would suggest she still has trouble believing that she already is God’s masterpiece). She still goes to that good girl mentality in an instant, especially when she is afraid she has hurt another. She finds herself slowly transitioning more to who she was made to be and in the midst of that, she fights to separate from living as some other human created her to be. This is one of the most difficult things she has ever done, for in separating, she could be a wound inflictor. In her heart, she struggles to believe that she can’t hurt the dead. She only enjoys joyful magic these days, not black magic thinking…which is exactly what that is. When she deals with this, an image of a five year old blond girl, feeling ashamed of what she did to offend (but not sure what that was) pops into her heart. It’s such a helpless feeling that overcomes her. So, she is likely to try and please even those who are not worthy of her heart. Danger zone.
She is emotionally aware of others, sometimes too much so. She still idealizes, sometimes seeing what she wants to see rather than what is reality. Then, when she is disappointed, it’s because she trusts she will never be good enough to have the deepest desires of her heart. She is learning that life really does begin out of her comfort zone and that she firmly resists anyone who tries to put her in a box. That’s a funny thing to figure out when she still wants to please. Anais Nin once said, “I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.” Heart affirmation.
She is building her prayer life and learning to trust God fully with her heart. This is a process in every way. She often asks herself how she will trust the right man with her heart if she won’t trust God with her heart. She doesn’t know the answer; she does recognize the significance of this question. Her prayers are very different, her tears flow freely and her laughter is genuine and without apology. Seeking God’s heart and strengthening her faith are constant forgings; and part of this is searching deeply for her own grown-up understanding of God and the Bible. She has come a long way from believing that God was a big guy in the sky waiting to strike her down for any minor offense, with a long way to go still. She is learning to seek Him as Father and friend. She has many people who have come into her lives with polar opposite thoughts on God. She listens, she prays, and she seeks intimacy with Him above anyone’s opinion. The conversations grow her, and hopefully grows them but in the end, she knows she wants to honor what is between she and God above all else.
She is raising her kiddos and absorbing hard truths. As caller number two pointed out, those kiddos are pretty much raised and she can’t go back and change what she may have broken. She can only do better with what she knows. She loves them fiercely and wants to be enough, and she often feels insufficient to do this job without their father in the house. This is tough. She enjoys (usually) dating and is wary of how any man would impact the lives of her children. She also knows that coming from a beautifully blended family that the good possibilities are beyond her imagination, she reminds herself that her fairytale dream is not going to happen, ever. She wonders how she can reframe her fairytale. Speaking of dating, she investigates her gravitations in this area with fierce curiosity. She notices that if there were a scale with a man on each end and one in the middle, she drifts toward the middle.
Man on the left talks about men who are Godly leaders are but doesn’t live that way, the only place he is giving is in bed, is manipulative, super smart in a ‘take note of everything so I can use it against her’ way, selfish, temperamental, impulsive, bad boy imaged, gas lights, lashes out, lies, is not faithful, treats her less than and is still yummy smelling and gives great kisses and hugs. She knows he is not good for her in any way, but this tells herself this must be how love really is. After all, it is volatile just like her grandparents were. There’s no inbetween, its either on or off but she holds all the power to heal him, to heal them. This makes her feel validated and important. She has someone or something to save. She is someone else with this man. She is wild and passionate in the beginning and then she is broken.
The man in the middle….he smells fabulous, usually hot, gives great kisses and hugs, sweet, gentle, kind of smart but not really a deep conversationalist, wants to be pursued, drops bread crumbs but just not ready or not wanting to be with her…does want her as a back up just in case. Whew! She wants him badly, he is likely not going to happen but she spends way too much time fawning over him and feeling a false sense of relief every time he calls or texts. She knows he is unavailable, either emotionally, spiritually or in some manner and she chooses to believe that he is ‘good enough’ because she never will be fully worthy of man on the right. This man gets her very best, she pulls out all the stops to keep him engaged. She works harder for his attention than he ever will for hers.
Man on the right is strikingly handsome to her, good, kind, tender, wise, compassionate, loving, funny, Godly. smells delicious, gives great hugs and kisses and wants her best; even above his own. He is intelligent, witty, and has big hands that are gentle. He is trustworthy, holds her heart in his hands with care and has eyes only for her. Their souls know each other, he is beyond what she has dreamed. He might even be special enough to meet her family, friends and fur babies. She considers him fondly and worries that he is too good to be real. All at once, she is afraid and she is intrigued. She is cautious and inquisitive about the extraordinary pull she feels toward him. She does not know how to recieve or whether to trust his kindness, so with every fiber of her being she focuses on the present moment and not on the what if’s. A new kind of hard.
In each of these scenarios, she is torn. She doesn’t know who to trust and ultimately, it’s herself that she doesn’t trust. She knows. She is working hard to trust. She is trying hard to own her story while believing that she is worthy of the best God could bring. She likes to refer to the hard things in life being much like a bear hunt, “can’t go over it, can’t go under it…guess you gotta go through it.” She has a beautiful imagination and in her relationships can use this to create unreal scenarios or to destroy something before it happens. She has a protective reason for this. Control prevents chaos and for someone who grew up with emotional chaos, creating safety in this manner is the logical, albeit not always healthy, thing to do.
She is definitely work in progress, in every area. This is okay. She shares openly many of her thoughts, but there are still many secrets inside of her. They aren’t intentional secrets, but precious things that she doesn’t want to give away to the world for their dissection and judgement. Some things are meant to be precious gifts from God in her own heart. She doesn’t want to risk those things being torn apart because they are part of what pieces her together.
There she is…one year later. Lots of life to live, tons of growing to do and more contentment than she remembers feeling in forever.
“I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles.” – Psalm 34:4-6