The mask has fallen.
I am here, naked, unsure
Deep down, who am I
weak
burdened
ashamed
spent
tired, so tired
struggling
striving
missing the mark, time and again
I cover my face, too afraid to look
He is
stunning
shining
pure
warm
peaceful
accepting
inviting
life-giving
forgiving
And He's holding out His hand to me.
I have nothing to give Him but
my brokenness
my anger
my doubt
my confusion
my frustration
my anxiety
my disease
He comes closer.
And I want what He has to give.
Want it desperately.
I reach towards Him but shrink back.
If I touch Him, I will defile Him.
Maybe I can touch His feet, the hem of His garment.
Just a touch.
I reach out.
the scales drop
the weight is lifted
the emptiness is filled
the anxiety is stilled
darkness changed to light
fear change to courage
I am alive.
Even when I struggle, I am victorious.
Even when I feel lonely, I am loved.
Even when I am overwhelmed, I have peace.
Even when I feel sad, I have joy.
Even when I know I can't do this on my own, He gives me strength.
I refuse to pick the mask back up.
I feel more true without it.
I don't need it anymore.
I need to be alive.
The mask has fallen.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Friday, April 15, 2016
I'm how old??
I haven't blogged in over a year. All 3 of my readers (Hi, Mom) are crying buckets, I'm sure. I've had so many different wonderings at times that I think would make a great blog, but I never sit down and write it out. This morning, though, (oh, it's actually afternoon & I'm still in my pajamas) I have had swirling emotions and thoughts. And I realized that the 2 year old is napping and I have a moment to sit and type. So this is gonna be messy. As messy as my hair is piled on top of my head and the remnants of cleaning solution is on my pajama pants (aren't you glad I didn't Vlog). Speaking of the cleaning solution.
I actually had energy this morning to clean my bathrooms. And I mean SCRUB THE TUBS. I ashamedly admit that this has not been done near as often as it should have. But I was emotional and needed an outlet and the sink and tub in my master bath were causing me to gag, so some serious cleaning was had. So much so that stains that were there when we moved in and have not been previously eradicated are now gone (huge high five for all messy moms out there). Someone may step in and the tub may disintegrate beneath them, but, dadgumit, those nasty spots that someone other than my family put there are gone. Internally, I would love to go through the whole house and clean until my arms fall off, but I have to remain living while my husband is out of town this weekend.
So backtracking to why I was emotionally set off. There are several reasons, but I'll try to limit it to one. or two. and be not extremely long-winded about it. I emphasize the word try.
I am currently reading 7 written by Jen Hatmaker (who I feel could very possibly be amongst a gang of women I would want to belong to up in heaven - we would be off to the side in some shadows, laughing until we snorted/cried/peed our pants at something a tad inappropriate but hilarious to us..... I digress) and it is making me feel.... I'm not really sure of the word that would be used for ungrateful, challenged, convicted, slobby, thankful (I know that is opposite of ungrateful), humored, saddened (opposite, again, I know... do you see my dilemma)? This is a book in a line of books I've been reading (some are finished, some have been tabled for awhile due to overwhelmingness (that probably isn't a word) or just forgetfulness) (I just realized I put parentheses in parentheses) over the last almost 2 years that are changing my life. This morning I was reading about her experiences with wearing the same 7 items of clothing for a month (if you want to know why, read the book). This comes after months of looking in my closet and feeling disgusted with several things. (Here's where this is just gonna get messier than this writing already is. Not doing this for an English grade...) My health is on a crazy roller coaster ride. (see past blogs for some info) The last almost 8 months have been tough. I'm on a path of healing, but it is taking a long time. And one thing that I haven't admitted to anyone (big dramatic pause) is that I know I'm not doing the full extent of what I can to help the process along. I'm undisciplined. Some days I'm gungho ready to do whatever it takes, then the next I'm drinking my 3rd Dr Pepper of the day and eating M&M's. I'll take a walk or ride my bike one morning, fully intending to do the same the next day, and then wake up feeling like I'm getting the flu. Silent illnesses that are internal and have no real outside obvious symptoms showing are hard to describe. Let's just say for sake of time that everyday I deal with pain and fatigue. There are many more things that occur, some I don't even fully recognize as a symptom until it is pointed out, but the main trouble makers are pain and fatigue. Unless you've experienced this, you won't understand when I say that there are some days I seriously cannot get going to clean or start/work on/finish a project. Those days, it takes everything I can give to take care of the Bonus Baby, pick the other two up from school, and cook supper. I struggle with feelings of inadequacy, frequently questioning if I am just lazy. Over the past 18 months of studying, reading, talking, praying, I know the answer to that and have to just keep going, trying to not worry about what others may think, and know that I am enough (so much I could say about that, but I'm trying to focus here). So back to my closet - In the past 6-8 months, I have gained 20 pounds. That is quite a bit for me in that amount of time. I weigh the most I've ever weighed (not being pregnant). I realize that it's not a ridiculous amount, but it makes a big difference for me. And as far as I can tell, I'm not doing anything to steadily gain weight. My appetite is actually decreasing. (side bar - I am seeing a doctor and we are addressing all of this, so I don't really need any advice....) Most of the clothes in my closet don't fit. I can squeeze them on, but I like to look in the mirror before I walk out the door to the public. Some things just don't need seeing, 'cause you can't undo that, people. I also have this crazy notion that clothes should feel awesome and you should be comfortable in them. That means that most of my days lately are spent in exercise capris or yoga pants and some larger shirts I finally bought several weeks ago or Malcolm's t-shirts. I don't really like clothes shopping. I can have ideas in my head of what I would like to wear, but I can't find them at the store. Plus, I'm cheap. There, I said it. I would love to never pay more than $10 for any piece of clothing. I mean, really. Why do clothes cost more than $30, anyway?? I'm sure there's good reasons, but, again, the cheapness. So this morning, I decided to finally do it. I went into my closet and took out every item that I can't wear anymore. Wait, that's not totally true. There are still some skirts in there that I don't think I can part with yet. I still need to go through the multiple sweat pants, etc., hanging out on the top shelf. But guess what? As I took these not-worn-for-months clothing articles off the hangers and started piling them on the bed, I cried. I CRIED. OVER CLOTHES. Seriously? What in the first-world-problem is wrong with me? These items have been hanging in my closet for who knows how long (a couple pieces I've actually never worn except to try on and see how awful it looks on me...), and I am crying over them!!!! Disgusting. So I finished the hang-up items and then attacked the tub. At least something productive came out of it.
I am acutely aware that I turn 40 in December. I'm not as mature as I thought I would be by now. I have a teenager that sometimes thinks deeper than I do. Somedays I wonder if I'll be able to keep up with my crazy hubsters when we are old and grey (no comments about his salt & pepper). I know I'm not old, although I feel like it, but I have some major and minor goals I want to meet before December 6th. So I'm sitting here pouring this out on a blog. And hoping that in all of the five people that might read this (Hi again, Mom), someone can identify with the uncomfortableness of excess and questioning of identity and fatigue of muscles and struggle with self and all the other messiness of life. I definitely want to reach out and be vulnerable and authentic because, hello, living with the mask up all the time is exhausting. We really need to stop it.
And when it comes down to it, we all need scrubbed like there's no tomorrow so that, even if we are worn thin, we can shine.
Like my old, stains-are-gone tub. (Can I get another high five?)
I actually had energy this morning to clean my bathrooms. And I mean SCRUB THE TUBS. I ashamedly admit that this has not been done near as often as it should have. But I was emotional and needed an outlet and the sink and tub in my master bath were causing me to gag, so some serious cleaning was had. So much so that stains that were there when we moved in and have not been previously eradicated are now gone (huge high five for all messy moms out there). Someone may step in and the tub may disintegrate beneath them, but, dadgumit, those nasty spots that someone other than my family put there are gone. Internally, I would love to go through the whole house and clean until my arms fall off, but I have to remain living while my husband is out of town this weekend.
So backtracking to why I was emotionally set off. There are several reasons, but I'll try to limit it to one. or two. and be not extremely long-winded about it. I emphasize the word try.
I am currently reading 7 written by Jen Hatmaker (who I feel could very possibly be amongst a gang of women I would want to belong to up in heaven - we would be off to the side in some shadows, laughing until we snorted/cried/peed our pants at something a tad inappropriate but hilarious to us..... I digress) and it is making me feel.... I'm not really sure of the word that would be used for ungrateful, challenged, convicted, slobby, thankful (I know that is opposite of ungrateful), humored, saddened (opposite, again, I know... do you see my dilemma)? This is a book in a line of books I've been reading (some are finished, some have been tabled for awhile due to overwhelmingness (that probably isn't a word) or just forgetfulness) (I just realized I put parentheses in parentheses) over the last almost 2 years that are changing my life. This morning I was reading about her experiences with wearing the same 7 items of clothing for a month (if you want to know why, read the book). This comes after months of looking in my closet and feeling disgusted with several things. (Here's where this is just gonna get messier than this writing already is. Not doing this for an English grade...) My health is on a crazy roller coaster ride. (see past blogs for some info) The last almost 8 months have been tough. I'm on a path of healing, but it is taking a long time. And one thing that I haven't admitted to anyone (big dramatic pause) is that I know I'm not doing the full extent of what I can to help the process along. I'm undisciplined. Some days I'm gungho ready to do whatever it takes, then the next I'm drinking my 3rd Dr Pepper of the day and eating M&M's. I'll take a walk or ride my bike one morning, fully intending to do the same the next day, and then wake up feeling like I'm getting the flu. Silent illnesses that are internal and have no real outside obvious symptoms showing are hard to describe. Let's just say for sake of time that everyday I deal with pain and fatigue. There are many more things that occur, some I don't even fully recognize as a symptom until it is pointed out, but the main trouble makers are pain and fatigue. Unless you've experienced this, you won't understand when I say that there are some days I seriously cannot get going to clean or start/work on/finish a project. Those days, it takes everything I can give to take care of the Bonus Baby, pick the other two up from school, and cook supper. I struggle with feelings of inadequacy, frequently questioning if I am just lazy. Over the past 18 months of studying, reading, talking, praying, I know the answer to that and have to just keep going, trying to not worry about what others may think, and know that I am enough (so much I could say about that, but I'm trying to focus here). So back to my closet - In the past 6-8 months, I have gained 20 pounds. That is quite a bit for me in that amount of time. I weigh the most I've ever weighed (not being pregnant). I realize that it's not a ridiculous amount, but it makes a big difference for me. And as far as I can tell, I'm not doing anything to steadily gain weight. My appetite is actually decreasing. (side bar - I am seeing a doctor and we are addressing all of this, so I don't really need any advice....) Most of the clothes in my closet don't fit. I can squeeze them on, but I like to look in the mirror before I walk out the door to the public. Some things just don't need seeing, 'cause you can't undo that, people. I also have this crazy notion that clothes should feel awesome and you should be comfortable in them. That means that most of my days lately are spent in exercise capris or yoga pants and some larger shirts I finally bought several weeks ago or Malcolm's t-shirts. I don't really like clothes shopping. I can have ideas in my head of what I would like to wear, but I can't find them at the store. Plus, I'm cheap. There, I said it. I would love to never pay more than $10 for any piece of clothing. I mean, really. Why do clothes cost more than $30, anyway?? I'm sure there's good reasons, but, again, the cheapness. So this morning, I decided to finally do it. I went into my closet and took out every item that I can't wear anymore. Wait, that's not totally true. There are still some skirts in there that I don't think I can part with yet. I still need to go through the multiple sweat pants, etc., hanging out on the top shelf. But guess what? As I took these not-worn-for-months clothing articles off the hangers and started piling them on the bed, I cried. I CRIED. OVER CLOTHES. Seriously? What in the first-world-problem is wrong with me? These items have been hanging in my closet for who knows how long (a couple pieces I've actually never worn except to try on and see how awful it looks on me...), and I am crying over them!!!! Disgusting. So I finished the hang-up items and then attacked the tub. At least something productive came out of it.
I am acutely aware that I turn 40 in December. I'm not as mature as I thought I would be by now. I have a teenager that sometimes thinks deeper than I do. Somedays I wonder if I'll be able to keep up with my crazy hubsters when we are old and grey (no comments about his salt & pepper). I know I'm not old, although I feel like it, but I have some major and minor goals I want to meet before December 6th. So I'm sitting here pouring this out on a blog. And hoping that in all of the five people that might read this (Hi again, Mom), someone can identify with the uncomfortableness of excess and questioning of identity and fatigue of muscles and struggle with self and all the other messiness of life. I definitely want to reach out and be vulnerable and authentic because, hello, living with the mask up all the time is exhausting. We really need to stop it.
And when it comes down to it, we all need scrubbed like there's no tomorrow so that, even if we are worn thin, we can shine.
Like my old, stains-are-gone tub. (Can I get another high five?)
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