I have been stuck in a mental state that is immature compared to my chronological age. I guess we all can have those moments, but the reality is, there are some people who, when it comes to responsibility, it is perspicuously evident. I am such a person. I think I’m doing well by trying to think of others, excuse myself from being an intrusion, and will default to others’ opinions and may refrain from challenging a perspective, as to keep the peace. Frankly, it comes from a place of insecurity, because if I did feel safe, I would mention something. I may ask for my needs. But I do not. Because I have believed since a child that the good Christian thing to do is to put others above myself. And that has been demonstrated to the extreme. I take care of my own stuff. And if other peoples’ behavior affects my own, then I will adjust by moving on by myself. I wouldn’t want to start a rift by saying I need someone to change their schedule or perspective, because…well, wouldn’t that be prideful? Plus, shouldn’t I accommodate others; isn’t that the gracious thing to do? Nevertheless, with all the silent moving around, I become increasingly perplexed when my needs go without. My frustration grows when my boundaries are pushed. And if I was completely honest, perhaps I have lived passively for so long, I now no longer have boundaries in certain areas. That is scary to admit. I thought I was doing the loving thing by just letting things go. But I continue to get hurt. And ironically, when it was suggested to me that I should be the one to speak up when I have a need, I huffed to myself. “Why should I be the one to speak up? Here I am leaning into relationships and trying to understand and love others, and I am the one who has to continue reaching out?! Why can’t somebody else reach out to me? Why can’t somebody else be intuitive about my needs?” But these questions don’t get me anywhere but angry and regressing from any growth that I gained over the course of this last year. And it certainly shortens my ability to be proactive about the solution. Yes, I believe that it is important for a mutual leaning in. However, I am learning that requiring people to read my mind is an insufficient way to receive love. Moreover, I will be more apt to revert to selfishness than if I kept aiming to love- and lean into- others. I know I need to speak more. This isn’t about demanding things. But it is inviting someone to understand me, because otherwise, they may not. I thought I was being merciful by letting myself move around other peoples’ blind spots. Now, I am realizing that by not saying anything, yes, I am giving allowance, but I am also enabling the person to see their lack of how they may be negatively affecting me. This is why it is so important to start exercising my voice. I know that I have struggled to stand up for myself. And I am seeing that my silence is sometimes extended in failing to speak up for others. There is an instinctual desire, wishing someone could come to my defense. And yet, the reality is, as an adult, I no longer have an excuse to stay quiet when something needs to be said. I am now in the position of authority in my own life. I am 100% responsible for how I choose to carry my life. Including the possibility of my own family, I will be the one teaching my children how to address matters of discussion and conflict. If I don’t get myself together, then my children will carry the same scars that I bear. I must learn to speak my mind, when there is a need for it. Even for the small things. It doesn’t have to be a grievous offense. It can be as simple as checking schedules. Healthy relationships are vital. Being intuitive to others’ needs is helpful, but I am learning that demanding others to be intuitive for my sake will only leave me frustrated. So, to love, I need to share. I need to speak. In being assertive, I then practice being for the whole of the other person, and not just seeking my own aim.
Monday, April 24, 2023
Worth the Pain
There is something about having a shared struggle that can connect people in grief…and in joy. Today, I subbed in a classroom with a student who lives with cerebral palsy. And if there is any kind of person I can quickly notice in a crowded room, it’s those with CP. It’s easy to notice those who have the same story. Or something like it. We spent fourth period together, and then lunch, and in the process of making jokes, sharing my experiences of living with a disability, and lastly, introducing some tricks that I have used over the years to gain independence, it finally hit me. All the questions I have asked God - all the anger and confusion for feeling I was left out of His promises - was worth it. Oh, how often I have begged God to just make my hand whole. Just let me be able to open it without trouble. Not let me have to worry about other complications. “Why do I have to be the handicapped one of the group?” But the truth is, I never was the handicapped one. Yes, I live with a disability, but as anyone close to me knows…I made sure it didn’t stop me from doing the things I wanted (for better or worse). And today, I was able to see that by sharing my tricks, I was able to encourage somebody else, who lives with the same disability, to walk in greater freedom than perhaps they have done before. They are affirmed to not be defined by what they can or cannot do. Even in the messes we made, there was laughter and joy brought to her face (oh, if you could have seen her smile) …because, by me willing to share my story, I showed her that it was possible to live a thriving and fulfilling life. I have carried such a shame over the years, because of this “limp fist”. Yet, in my adulthood, I find that it is now something that can be used to connect with others. This thorn in my flesh has proven itself to be an inspiration of comfort and hope. What a paradox! How can something that brought so much pain to my soul result in bringing life to others?! My goodness - what a concept! The “unanswered” prayers were never lost…God has just seen that there was greater purpose to me walking through my pain, then if I went without. Maybe God’s timeline isn’t all jacked up. Maybe He knows exactly what He’s doing. My healing has never been just about me. In my waiting, He’s weaving His glory into my life, and I’ve suddenly begun to see it.
Tuesday, April 11, 2023
I Am the Problem.
Recently, I have been learning to let go of expectations I put on other people, for the sake of healing wounds that other people have caused me. That's the admittance. The suffering that has cycled in and around me is due to me. Have I had emotional trauma? On some level, yes. Nevertheless, I have convinced myself that I cannot move forward unless someone else fills the hole that was left empty by someone else. There is a wound, and perhaps I have to mourn the fact that this is my reality. The person I needed growing up was unavailable in the way I needed them to be. To this day, I could say I still have need for them; I have need for them to be in my life. But that isn't my reality... I don't have a mother who can spiritually and emotionally carry me. And it's been that way since my teen years, minimally. (Wow...that's out there.) And while I have been holding onto the pain of losing her, relationally, I subsequently demanded other female figures to become the mother I never had. Something that really has no place being put on their shoulders. Being without my own mother still hurts at times, especially when I'm reminded that other mothers invest in their daughters. But in coming out of this victim mindset (which Taylor Swift's "Antihero" and NF's "Happy" songs address), I need to bring my lack to Jesus and ask Him to meet me where I am empty.
"Amen to Taylor and NF"
All this time, I thought
It was their fault...
Their wrong...Their responsibility
To make it right.
But no matter how many tears
I shed for the past,
Nothing changed
Save for the darkness
Growing in my soul.
Demanding that history
Had to have a rewrite
To make all things right
In my life
Or else I mentally died
Every dusk the morning failed
To deliver the hope it promised.
But at some point,
The sin that remains
In the room is my own.
I saw everyone else as an enemy,
But the only person present
Was a vision of me in a mirror.
My inward chaos is caused
By my insufficiency to be
Content with the book's story.
Failing to read the next chapter...
No. I keep making each chapter
Read similar to the rest.
Yet, the Author keeps
Introducing His love, asking
When will I rest in Him and forgive
Those who caused me pain?
Will I learn to admit my need
To the only One who can fill it?
Will I receive love from the One
Who can only love me 100% right?
Or will I continue to enjoy
This darkness that has secretly
Become my home?
Will I continue to rant
According to the faults of others,
While it is me who verbally spills
The blood of people's reputations?
Condemning my past has only led me
To damn my present,
Suffocating the future of any hope.
There is a problem.
And it's me.
To be happy,
I need to believe
Christ's work is sufficient
To know and behold a love
I once was starved,
But no longer
Am.