I want to be brave. I want to be courageous and fearless and powerful. I want to be a force to be reckoned with-- and I want to have that inner sort of power people have when they REALLY know who they are, when they really understand their potential. I don't want to be delicate. I don't want to be soft. I don't want to be passive, sweet, fragile or emotional. So why does society want these things from me? Am I a crazy *Gasp* Feminist for wanting what I want? I think I'm just a human being. I think I'm just a daughter of God who understands my potential and worth. I have been thinking much about the labels society wants to slap us with, and can we really blame society for wanting to make sense of someone? And what easier way than to pull from a pile of dirty laundry a couple of cheap words and call it good?
I am not looking to find someone to blame. I am looking to break through.
You hear that?
I want out.
I want out of the labels. I want out of the "Supposed To's".
I want out of feeling consistently conflicted about my true inner desires and who everyone WANTS me to be.
I might not be able to change the world, but I can change MY world. And my world consists of every thought I have, of every action I do, of every life I touch. I create my world. So if I can change my world, I will in fact change THE world. The only world that matters.
So delving into this headfirst I ask...why is it that men often SEEK the 'weaker' kind of woman? And why do women feel they must, for some unseen reason, comply? Do women feel so desperate for a man that they think the only way to get one is to make the man feel "like a man" and therefor stronger and in control of the entire relationship?
Not all men are like this. But I do see this plaguing our society. And as I have looked back on my dating experiences I have realized that any time I started to show a 'masculine' trait, the man was somehow turned off (except for ONE Man :)...lucky me). But WHY is this? Men and women are equally powerful, have an equal amount to offer, and yet we hear phrases like "battle of the sexes" traded back and forth on a frequent basis. Does it all breed from massive amounts of insecurity from BOTH sexes?
I know, I know, I ask alotta questions :)
Lets all huddle together and be honest a moment.
I consider myself feminine. I also consider myself powerful. I consider myself assertive (more and more as the years have gone on) I have realized anything "nice" about me has been 85% for show and to 'fit in.' I have a confession my friends. I am not that nice. I am not that sweet. I am not that PINK.
I can be downright mean if the occasion calls for it. And I also have no problem calling men on their desire to be babied. I don't WANT to be babied. And I do not want a man who wants to be babied.
I know, some people have daddy issues. Some people have mommy issues. Others have brother and sister issues (not touching that one) BUT I don't care about the issues. I want a fully functional, adult, respect driven, fearless, plucky kind of relationship that is interdependent and can weather any storm.
I want intelligent banter. I want best friends. I want honesty. I want connection. And I want someone who has the desire to 'date' me the rest of my life. I really want it all...is that too much to ask? ;)
But why SHOULD this be a stretch? What does the world around ALL of us say to women AND men who want the 'other' kind of relationship?
All I can say about society and HER expectations....BORING.
This post (sort of a rant) is not over. More to come...
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Today I crawled in the back seat of my car in the school parking lot, rolled the windows down and sprawled out on the significant pile of junk (anyone who knows my car knows this is an understatement). I rested my head on a wadded up pair of male dress pants (I seriously don't know WHERE they came from) and stared up and out my window at the almost-clouds. My thoughts drifted, and then they gravitated toward one singular thought.
Where has my heart been all year?
A sickening ache started right between my ribs, sneaking its way down my legs and up through my head. The ache spread everywhere. My whole body shivered with Ache. I closed my eyes as memory after memory cascaded through me of the times I'd shut my heart down this last year, the people I'd turned away.
I saw faces and smiles and tears.
People I love and care about I have let down. People. PEOPLE.
For those of you who have seen Schindler's List, you understand the painful reality in the moment when Schindler looks out on the crowd of Jews and realized he saved every single one of them, but also saw the space between them...the faceless strangers he could not save. That moment when his eyes shine with personal agony when he looks at his belongings and realizes every physical belonging he kept, kept another person from living.
Now I don't want to be Schindler, nor do I believe I am here to save anyone.
I merely relate to that bitter moment- that moment when you realize your heart has been not only absent, but locked away. And that my heart wasn't available to be there for anyone else.
I seriously doubt more than my sister even glances at this blog anymore, but to anyone's eyes who might chance a glance this way...you are obviously my friend. And if you are my friend I have probably let you down in some way, and if that is the case I apologize.
I want to be completely honest. Number one- no one reads this anymore. Number two- no reads this anymore. Number three-honesty sets a soul free.
Confession number one: My heart discovered a new level of heartbreak this year. On so many levels. My heart has broken for my brother and his wife and their sweet, sweet kids (my adorable niece and nephew) as they have struggled through addiction, my heart has broken for my sister and her struggle with her health, which she has handled like a champion. My heart has broken for my parents as they have gone through their toughest years (luckily they are blessed with a wonderful marriage). My heart has broken for dear friends making bad decisions. My heart has broken in the hands of a man who is the only man I have allowed close enough, loved deep enough, and trusted enough...to take it in the first place. My heart has been sufficiently broken, the pieces scattered and I'm sure someone's creepy little pet is already gnawing on the remains...
BUT...Confession number two: My heart has loved. My heart has grown. With every break, it has left room for someone else to slip in there, another lesson sandwiches me in faith and trust in God. With every crack I have been able to grow, and as painful as it is I know it is making me into the person God has seen in me from the beginning.
Confession number three: I believe in new beginnings. I believe that my little brother and his wife can have a wonderful, sober life. I believe my sister will live long and healthy and be an example to others who struggle with health. I believe my parents marriage will only grow stronger through these years. I believe God will take care of my friends. I believe that when the time is right, when my heart is ready and I have grown into who I need to be, when he has grown into who he needs to be...we can have a chance to experience what we have 'almost' experienced from the day we met. And I won't stop loving him. I believe in the man he is, and I believe in the woman I am growing into. I believe everything that has been etched into my heart from the beginning. And as corny as it sounds, I'll just keep writing him songs until one day, one song says everything I ever wanted to say- moves him in ways my words never could.
Life is too wonderful to try to stop loving anyone I have ever loved. My heart just keeps growing. And I just keep getting stronger every day I walk with faith.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
I don't think anyone reads my blog anymore (at least not this one) and so I feel a sense of liberty in writing straight from the soul. There is something oddly purging about letting the pieces of me that have been struggling to form semblance ink to something tangible across the white noise of the interworld. There is a part of me that is still hesitant to write this, because there is something strange about scattering pieces of my soul like confetti into the inter-abyss- but the taunt of freedom is too alluring and I can only hope that if anyone reads this they will do so with forgiveness and a gentle sense of humor. Blogs are the new 'message in a bottle'. I'm writing from the heart and tossing it into the ocean. The only person I expect to find this is a pirate....or mermaid (preferably a merman mind you, dripping and wet with long-ish hair and a glowing six pack...)
So basically this year I have had a lot of firsts. I have used atrophied muscles in my heart:
Believed. This is a big one for me. I never believed in using my heart the way I've used it this year.
Let me explain something about my heart. My whole life I have been trying to protect it. Ever since I came home from school crying to my mom about the kid I didn't know who got pushed down on the playground I knew I had a different heart. We all have beautiful hearts, and they are capable of different and unique things. I have been cursed (blessed) with A tender heart. A big heart. The kind of heart that gets hurt by just watching the cruelly labeled geek in class get spit-wadded by the school bully. Not just hurt, but swallowing my tears and snot as I cried for them HURT. I used to hurry up to finish my schoolwork in sixth grade so I could go and tutor the resource kids. This is not the fastest way to make friends in sixth grade, and I had a few friends who were very special to me that understood my heart...and I understood theirs.
But I grew up. And in the process of bad hair cuts and teenage growing pains I discovered that I didn't want to walk around FEELING my heart. I wanted to protect it. And thus began the process of slowly piling brick after brick around my heart. It wasn't until this year, through some painful discoveries, that I realized this heart of mine is MEANT to feel. I am meant to love so completely that I feel empathy and compassion for everyone. I am meant to emulate Christ as closely as I can so that I can understand even the teeniest portion of what He understands. I am MEANT to use my heart in service of my God. I am supposed to open my heart, and even though it causes me agony it also blesses me with a sense of serenity and peace I haven't known since I was a kid.
I am meant to love.
I am meant to hold. To comfort. To console. To do my part and let go.
I am meant to TRUST my heart in the Lord's hands. If my heart is in His hands, it will be taken care of. He knows my heart better than anyone, and he knows what I need to feel and when I need relief. He also knows HOW to relieve me.
I have never felt God closer in my life then just these past few weeks, but especially days. I have felt pushed down (this has been a rough semester for me as far as semesters go), but instead of brushing myself off and getting back up (which is what I normally do) I have taken His hand. I am taking His hand and trusting His plan for me. His plan for my big heart.
The amazing thing about this is that because the Lord knows me, and knows how to take care of me...I feel WONDERFUL. If I was a fighter in the ring, I'd be ready to jump back in. I've never felt more free, because NO MATTER what happens...I am trusting the Lord.
I believe in love. So cliched...so cheesy...but so true.
Love has the power to CHANGE people in ways that are...for lack of more inventive word...magical. Love can soften. Love can move. Love can beckon. Love can turn back time and change what otherwise cannot be undone. Love can forgive. Love is patient. Love trusts. Love can bend the hardest knee and bring tears to the driest eye. Love can let go...but Love can hold on. Love can surround us and Love can leave us...but ONLY if we let it.
I choose to trust my heart. But not trust it to myself...or anyone other person...trust it to the Lord.
I choose to Love. Openly and Freely. Until I wear Love as comfortably as I wear my skin.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
I like to get what I want-- almost as much as I like fighting to get what I want. I'm not afraid to dive head first into battle, war paint on as I make my way through life. Recently I have come to realize that in my efforts to fight for what I want I have crossed a collapsing boundary and found my hands dipped in the slippery grit of control. I struggle with the paradox of not giving up, of fighting for what I want, and trying to control the outcome...control my entire life. In trying to control every outcome I have on accident given up my weapons to fight a fair fight and have instead exchanged them for the sneaky devices of a spy. I don't want to be a spy, I want to be a warrior. I can be extremely stubborn. I wont give up. But how do I find the balance of letting go...of practicing faith...and still fighting for what I want? I need to give up control, but all the same I need to keep my war paint. I can't control how my life will turn out, but I can fight for the things I want...right?
Gah. Its hard for me to live in the gray of this.
Gah. Its hard for me to live in the gray of this.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
I am more powerful than you, because I can listen. I know the cleverness of sound because I am careful to be still enough to understand it. Words can move, attack, destroy, seduce, impact, belittle, hurt, resolve, love, tangle. I can deduce. I can watch. I can deaden or make alive. If you throw words at me, I can soften them and butter them up. I can chew your words until they dissolve or I can hang them up so they are amplified.
I am silence.
Sometimes there is too much of me. But most of the time, there is not enough.
I am silence.
Sometimes there is too much of me. But most of the time, there is not enough.