No, not the artist. If you want an explanation for the title, you’ll have to read a little further down.
There has been so much going through my head this past week. We finished prayer week on Friday, went to a mega zip lining course (where you break and stop yourself for the most part), and this week we are doing grounds work for CICRIN. I know, Dad, I’m in Nicaragua, but I’m still raking in November. The irony. At least when people question my good attitude about it, I can attribute it to you.
Anyway, my resume can now include the ability to sweep ceilings, freaking out (only a little bit) when I find scorpions, and the ability to stay calm enough to grab a broom and sweep poisonous frogs out of my shower stall. Really, sometimes everyone just needs to wait their turn.
We’re also excited to celebrate Thanksgiving, and by the time I post this, it will have happened. A couple people from our squad volunteered to help prepare the meal and get the supplies. From what I’ve heard there will be ham, cheesy potatoes, Coke, and possibly even chocolate cake. Needless to say, we are all pumped for dinner tomorrow.
As for the real stuff however, the stuff going on with me, it’s been an interesting couple of weeks. God has told me directly that this month we’re working on communication which is even worse than identity. I can walk through whatever God’s got for me, but letting others into that process, well, let’s just say that it reminds me of that verse where it says something to the affect of, “God is all you need. Not the other people he created, just him. Just him and you.” ~ The TL translation.
But for all my protestations, God hasn’t changed his mind on the matter and so I’ve been practicing some good old fashioned word vomit when “share time” comes around within my team. Basically this looks like me keeping a laundry list of everything God is working on with me, (you know, besides the communication thing), and then reading it out to them. They are then free to ask me any questions they want. Really it’s not such a bad process, it’s just completely unnatural to expose so much of your deepest hurts and struggles to a bunch of people all at once, even if you know they’re going to be there for you.
So here are a couple of the things I’ve been working through. (Please note: “working” is the active verb and it is in present tense. This does not imply that I have come to any resolutions or solutions. These are just significant thoughts that have come up that I need to think on some more.)
Femininity
Most of you know that growing up, I was a total tomboy and even when I outgrew the boy shorts, my style still leans strongly towards sporty/casual rather than girly. I don’t like dresses. I don’t like heels. I don’t like pink.
As far as styles go, there’s nothing particularly wrong about any of that, a little strange maybe, but I could go my entire life without really having to question it. But pink leads back to femininity, which leads back to being forced to dress up in order to be considered socially acceptable for certain events. And that eventually begs the question, do I hate these things because it’s who I am, part of the amazing person God created me to be, or is it learned behavior, grasped as a way of coping or acting out?
My main complaint against these things is the weakness they imply. If I’m in a dress or in heels I feel restricted; I can’t run around, I’m uncomfortable and if I’ve been standing for more than five minutes, I’m in pain. Pink implies girliness which directly translates to being seen as incapable and in need of someone on a white stallion.
My heart tells me that I don’t need anyone’s help; I don’t need anyone to be there for me because I’ve learned that I can do this whole life thing on my own for the most part. I don’t need people to come close, I don’t need them to see all of the mess I’m in and that I am.
Besides, experience tells me that even if I do let them in, even if I did (hypothetically) want someone there, they might have nice things to say in the moment, but they don’t stick around, they don’t really care. Not really.
The other lies that work themselves in nicely are that when I am my true self, it’s either too much or not enough for the people around me, after all, normal people can only handle so much of an exuberant, childlike twenty-something.
People will eventually get tired of me, especially if I pester them too often, become a burden by asking for too many things or too much, or I will simply be an annoyance, the weak link in the chain.
My fears in this are that I’m going to disappoint the people around me; that I’m not going to be enough. Controversially, I want people to be there for me when I’m going through a hard time, but I don’t. If they’re there it means they’re going to see me in a weak spot which is not okay. But if they aren’t there, then I feel forgotten and I don’t like that either. Insert eye roll here. But even in those hard spots, it’s easier an preferable to be there for someone else instead of dealing with my own stuff. Turns out there are all kinds of coping mechanisms. Whatever.
So the walls go up and the fortress around my heart is constructed and reinforced. But I’ve given God a set of the keys, (old ones, you know? Large and made of iron). I even gave him the password to the drawbridge and he’s started making copies for all of my teammates. Hello communication month. Bigger eye roll. So they have some, okay, a lot of access to my fortress and maybe God is slowly deconstructing it, but if he is, he’s doing it behind my back. Maybe while I’m sleeping. I think I’m taking the metaphor too far. Anyway.
I’m not sure where God’s going with all of these things. Theoretically forward. But until those plans become clear, that’s where my heart is.
Love y’all,
TL
