Archive for The Silver Lining

The Blog With Happy

{ July 7, 2009 @ 9:09 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, PG, The Silver Lining }
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“Being happy doesn’t make you a quitter” – me.
“Welcome to life.  Not living death. – mom.

Asher
Asher
Me and B
Me and B

Natalie Squared
Natalie Squared
Ex Roomies
Ex Roomies

Closer now
Closer now
Smile
Smile

Brian and I in Escondido
Brian and I in Escondido
My Mum.
My Mum.

Such a tough life
Such a tough life
Dad and Oliver
Dad and Oliver

Happiness
Happiness
Kiss me.
Kiss me.

Erin and Steven
Erin and Steven
I took this.
I took this.

Driving distraction
Driving distraction
Me and Ashleigh
Me and Ashleigh

Me and Jenn
Me and Jenn
Play
Play


The Blog That’s A Quickie. (Not like that)

{ March 2, 2009 @ 3:32 pm } · { Legitimate Insight, The Silver Lining }
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I recognize that the rollercoaster of my life can be attributed to choices of mine that can either be categorized as super or crap.  The direct results of said choices may be minute compared to the gravity of say, Hiroshima, but still their consequences tend to make my life rather turbulent and (sadly) at times akin to a really badly written soap opera. 

I could go on for quite a while on the realization of my part to play in all this, and I could even go on with the rather fitting metatphor that hit me as I was writing the above paragraph about likening life to a movie script and how really, if you don’t like how it’s written and directed…then you need to look at who’s doing the writing and directing…(I’m SO writing that later)  But for now, my point is not to be sooooo serious.

I’m drinking a Trader Joes Kids Apple Juice Box.  It delicious.  Before that, it was a package of tuna for lunch with merely Ketchup to grace it’s protein goodness.  I realize that the concept of a fishy substance masqued soely in that of pureed tomatoes with a spash of vinegar and whatever-the-heck it is that makes this alternative form of the Tomato so much more palitable than it’s original form, probably just made someone regurgetate some of their own lunch (hopefully not Tuna, though the irony I would find amusing).  Still, it’s simplicity and health factor I find quite enjoyable and appealing. 

That’s really the point of this little quickie.  I’m in one of those tragically rare good moods where the little things in life hold that much more joy.  I finished with the gym a little while ago – a good hour and a half of weights and cardio, before taking a shower and heading back to the office.  I am blessed.  I have a fitness center at my work place (as well as soccer fields, basketball courts, tennis courts, and a baseball diamond) and the liberty to use it at will.  Really, I am blessed to have a job in general, let alone one which tops most charts of awesome when it comes to the perks. 

I realized this morning that I seldom smile.  Not really.  I’m good at the fake, tilt the head, dorky smile that you awkwardly offer to aquaintances upon arrival.  But it made me sad as I drove through the security checkpoint on campus this mornig and realized that my brief interraction with the guard consisted of a movement of the mouth that was more of a grimmace than anything resembling joy or good will.  How sad.  After noticing this, my day has followed in a different mindset.  I don’t like my typical way of handling the world.  It’s always on the defensive, even down to the aversion of showing joy.  I often don’t even acknowledge joy to myslef out of fear of losing the happiness to some sort of set back or stroke of ill luck.  Either way, this is my baby step to not being such a bummer. 

Baby steps to not being a bummer, baby steps…

The Blog About Forgiveness

{ February 17, 2009 @ 3:24 pm } · { G, The Silver Lining }
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We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies.

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

I look back to my High School years and remember few details.  I can remember being somewhat dorkyawkward, since I only went there for three classes a day and did the rest through Independent Study.  I remember having varying shades of red hair – everything ranging from a deep orange to a dark raspberry/purple color.  I wore a lot of black back then, too, and had a mild obsession with Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  I also was helplessly addicted to Altoids and would go through about a pack every few days as they were somewhat of a coping mechanism for me.  I did plenty I am glad I don’t remember clearly, but even those things I know weren’t so bad.  What I know also is that there were plenty of painful wrongs done to me – but I can’t for the life of me tell you exactly what they were. 

Back then I had no issue letting go of things that really did not matter.  I had a few disputes with friends, but each of them would be forgotten and discarded by weeks end.  I could have remained hurt with plenty justification, but I honestly couldn’t tell you a week later what had happened that was so wrong.  My friendships meant more than that.  They were far too important, I was far too forgiving, and things just moved right along without that nonsense getting in the way.

Somewhere along the way, things changed, as they so often do.  I went from forgive and forget to try to forgive and kinda shove it aside but still glance at it from time to time.  I didn’t mean to start holding grudges, and for the most part I’ve managed to keep from doing so.  Back then the hurts ranged in severity, and perhaps that’s where the shift began – the levels of severity sure have deepened over the years.  In High School, it was “You’re new girlfriend can’t accept we’re friends and decided to make a rude and undeserved phone call to me last night” – one of the few examples I can actually remember.  In recent years, the debt has been far greater.  Still, only few have managed to linger like paper cuts that you think are healed, until you touch something acidic and you’re reminded of just how not-done that whole situation is.

There’s one in particular that has managed to linger, and with its lingering comes a gigantic wall between me and just about anyone I choose to hold near and dear. 

I’ve wrestled with this one for the past three, going on four, months.  Perhaps that’s not so long considering the years-long grudges some hold against others.  I didn’t consciously decided to be angry, nor hurt, nor anything else.  Somehow along the lines though, my “forgiveness” really didn’t take hold. 

I’m tired of it.  I’m tired of seeing him and feeling a part of me recoil in revulsion.  I don’t want to have other people in my life put up with me rambling to them every time our paths cross and I want to go cry or break something.  I’m tired of trying to rationalize or over-analyze the situation - do a play by play of who’s responsible for what in a hopes of somehow undoing the wrong that was done.  Thing is, wrong was done.  Something very wrong was done, and there’s nothing that can take that back.  Whether he “Gets it” or not, the reality is still there.  Really, all that’s in my control is whether I choose to give it that hold or not. 

I’m gonna say no.  Enough is enough. 

Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.  ~Paul Boese

 

The Blog On Hope

{ July 16, 2008 @ 6:42 am } · { Legitimate Insight, PG, The Silver Lining }
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It’s shortly before midnight and I’m sitting in bed writing. I should probably be sleeping, as I have to be up for work in about six hours, but there are times in life where the content of the mind and heart warrant the delay of sleep so that they can be documented for future reference. Now is one of those times.

Today began in a slightly more endearing fashion than the norm of late. For the first time in ages, I awoke and set about getting ready for work without the usual black cloud of doom hanging over me. I say that with a tone of cynical sarcasm, but sadly the description remains accurate. As I said, the cloud was missing this morning and I had the welcome ability to actually formulate coherent thought and process those thoughts into a dialogue with the Almighty. Sweet. And that last statement is with a tone of sincere relief. You see, for the longest time the above mentioned cloud has managed to prevent any real conversation and relationship with my First Love. In addition, it has bred nothing but confusion, whether it be attempting to process life and its fantabulous (sarcasm) curve balls of joy (more sarcasm), or merely attempting to think.

I think we get the point. Today started better than usual.

Then it took a nose dive as work proved to be annoying, and then I was accosted with the immature nonsense of a woman with a seven year supposed leg up on me in both age and alleged maturity. Not so much. Well, the age, perhaps. Maturity and logic for that matter, seem to be lacking. That’s the trigger of the blog preceding this one, which I am now tempted to remove considering the events of this evening.

Indeed, when I posted that blog everything I wrote was accurate. In truth, it still is. The only real difference is the frame of mind which caused me to write in the way I did. Perhaps I could have been a bit nicer about things. Perhaps not. Either way, the point of this particular blog has little to do with the one bellow.

I went to Los Angeles with my brother this evening to attend a mid-week church gathering called “Expression 58″. It’s an amazing group of people who are mostly in the entertainment industry, who gather to celebrate God and worship Him through their gifting. There are likely people of noteworthy fame amongst the crowd, but that is irrelevant. What attracts me to this group is that they’re people who I can relate to. They’re not “Type A”. They’re just a bit ‘off’ in the most fantastically familiar way that only a select portion of society can fully understand and appreciate. On the way there during my conversation with my brother, he suggested that I ask God for something specific for the evening. There were many possible things I could have chosen, all things considered, but the one I went with was the idea of Hope.

The black cloud I mentioned before is obviously a simile (or is that metaphor?) for the state of depression I have found myself in. Although there are several obvious sources for this state of mind and heart, the bottom line lately has been a feeling of utter hopelessness. It has felt as if there is zero hope of ever getting away from the past, that things will always feel this bad, and that the idea of a light at the end of yet another metaphorical tunnel is laughable to say the least. The idea of there being something to hope for in the future was completely unfathomable.

Until tonight.

In the car I mentioned to my brother that I needed Hope. I asked that he ask for it for me if the thought entered his head in the future. One thing I keep being reminded of, and something I never want to forget, is that with God…nothing is an accident. There is no such thing as coincidence. God is a God of master planning and perfect orchestration. You can guess where this is going…

Tonight’s message was on Hope. Isaiah 40, to be exact – a passage I am quite fondly familiar with. Tonight, God had my card entirely. And he passed it on to a wonderful woman He sent to pray with me afterwards. And I broke.

So did the cloud which had returned during the day. Just as the sun breaks through the darkness, as each ray of brilliance shatters fog and shines its warm light on the earth bellow, so did the hope begin to break through. There was the feeling, thank God, but more importantly the recognition of something far more meaningful.

Emotions are fleeting. I have written about this many times before and remarked about their tendency to be unreliable and at time inaccurate. Tonight I learned that Hope isn’t just a feeling – it’s a choice. Where you’re eyes are focused is where your hope comes from. As long as they are focused on yourself, your circumstance, and your failings, there will be near certain disappointment and disillusionment. When we fix our eyes instead on the things Above and take a stance of gratitude for what we have and faith for what we lack, then real and lasting hope can take root.

Hope isn’t found in our situations in life or in the people around us. Certainly these can be great assets, but they are fallible. God already knows our needs and will provide for them in His time. His plans are for our benefit, not for our ruin. The lesson of the day? God is God. Let him play his role accordingly, and I’ll play mine – the beloved child He created unique and for His unique plan and purpose. He created none as he did me (or you, for that matter) so comparison to another is asinine. He delights in his creation. I just need to learn to do the same.

The Blog About Who I Am

{ May 26, 2008 @ 8:20 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG, The Silver Lining }
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One of the biggest battles I have to face on a day to day basis is the battlefield of the mind. The mind is a powerful thing and really it’s what we choose to do with it which dictates the directions our daily lives will take. I’ve had plenty of examples of my thought life changing how I view people and activities, and I’m not referring to reflections upon reality. I’m talking about the fantasies that the imagination can conjure, which may be based on real life people and places, but the situations are false and the story plays out according to the fancy of the moment.

I learned how powerful this way of thinking was during the relationship I was in a couple years ago. In the past I had been in relationships with guys, but allowed my mind to wander to the thoughts of others. There would be speculations and imagined situations where myself and these others would interact and little by little my daily life almost had a parallel alter ego. I was sometimes absent during my own waking moments and going through the motions while a preferable film of sorts played in my head. Although this proved to be amusing and fulfilled various needs, be it emotional or psychological, all it really did was leave me in a state of wanting. The real life boyfriend I had took a back seat to the preferred characters of distraction and in doing so my affections dwindled. That particular relationship wouldn’t have worked long term anyhow, but the point is the lesson learned. The relationship a couple years ago I spent guarding my wandering thoughts against distraction. Ideas would pop into my head and they were immediately banished. I wouldn’t even entertain the curiosity about another guy or alternate circumstance. Because of this my relationship with this one was awesome while it lasted. I learned something about myself which I, up until that point, thought was impossible: I was capable of love.

My recent situation was a product of a rogue thought pattern. What was originally unthinkable and out of the question became a pre-occupation, then was encouraged by the other, and what I thought I was incapable of became reality after pain left my thoughts and emotions vulnerable to a moment of weakness. The moment my thoughts shifted, I knew I was in trouble. Sure enough, what was a dismissed idea came true. Granted, that may have been the way that things began, but what perpetuated it was obviously more than that. It’s extremely complicated in someways but remarkably simple in others. That’s not relevant. This isn’t really about relationships with other people. I use the examples merely to illustrate the power of the mind.

What I intended on getting to was the current battle which has taken the forefront of my internal dialog. For years I have refused to admit that which is good about myself due to an overdeveloped stance of humility. The last thing I wanted or want to ever become is one of those girls who is so full of their own self importance and supposed grandeur that they become intolerable to those around them. Everyone looks at them with annoyance and scorn due to their overdeveloped self-esteem and over sized ego. My problem is that I’ve taken that fear to an unhealthy extreme. Instead of merely guarding against the ego becoming overinflated, I take it to a ridiculous level and squash any thoughts of positive whatsoever. Instead of admitting to something that is good about myself, I say the opposite and maintain that what others perceive as good is indeed somewhat below average.

Really, this is a moronic way to live. Humility was the goal and there is something to be said for that, but discounting various blessings which God has granted is completely wrong. Part of daring to risk on the faith that God is who he says he is includes the risk to believe that what he has made me to be is true also. Self hatred has been a huge part of my life since junior high, really. Only for brief moments have I claimed anything positive about myself be it appearance, capabilities, talents, or any other virtue worthy of recognition. The remainder of the time is spent flogging myself for how badly I suck at life. The fact of the matter is, I am by no means perfect and in the past I have been prone to making some really crappy choices, but in reality – being me doesn’t suck.

I decided yesterday that instead of focusing on everything that I despised about myself I needed to start recognizing things for what they are and not for the worldly ideal I fall short of. Acknowledging these things about myself makes me squirm and makes me automatically feel defensive against other peoples opinions which may rival what I have to say…but really, what’s the worst that can happen? I think something positive? I stop hating myself? Hmm. Seems like a decent trade off for learning a new way of functioning.

Before attempting this foray into the unknown, lets just understand that all which is about to be voiced is said with the intention of reflecting what I know to be true about myself, not necessarily how I’ve acted. I’ve made some bad judgment calls and made plenty of mistakes in life, some intentional some otherwise. That doesn’t change who I am as a person. It means I’m merely human and prone to human behavior. Ok. Now that’s out of the way.

On an intellectual basis, I happen to be above average. I know this to be true not just because of a IQ test score (which is a good deal above average) or my honors status throughout my education, or the position I used to be ranked at when district exams were taken. How I problem solve as well as communicate, both through speech and writing, is generally above that of my peers…and most older than I. I had to speak in front of a courtroom full of people – attorneys, witnesses, government representatives, etc. I spoke my piece directly to the judge as the main witness for the prosecution. Although I knew basically what subject matter to use, I had no idea what to say until the moment I stood at the podium facing the Judge. What followed was about a five minute monologue covering everything from facts about the situation to my opinions and reasons behind them. As I spoke, I could hear an attorney near me say to another “she’s more well spoken than his attorney!”. My parents were present in the courtroom that day and were later approached by various lawyers and court officials who all made remarks in kind. Professors share these opinions and more. Enough about that one.

I’m the kind of friend who will drop everything for the need of another. I’ll loan money, I’ll drive hours just to meet up for lunch, I’ll pick them up in the middle of the night just because they shouldn’t be alone. I’ll stay with them while they’re upset, I’ll come back for them at 4 in the morning and take them from the cold night and back to a place of safety where I’ll remain at their side until daylight. I’ve done surprise parties, surprise “decorating” with candy and balloons in an unsuspecting friend’s bedroom, and made dinner for people to come home to. I’m trustworthy, brutally honest, and I’ll listen to as much as someone wants to tell me. I’ll say what needs to be said, even when it doesn’t want to be heard and rarely will I pull punches that need to be thrown. I’d rather give than take. I’ll act like a complete idiot just to make you smile.

I’ve always said that if I had no need to work and was free to do whatever I wanted with my time, then it would be spent doing something for others. Whether it was volunteering at an animal shelter, or working with Habitat like I did last year – I have to be active and productive. Life planted on a sofa or lounging in a cushy house with nothing useful to do is incredibly unattractive to me. So is waste of resources. I get frustrated with people who have so much but who strive for endless amounts of…what…more? More of what? All they seem to accomplish is furthering the craving for accumulation of wealth – all the while doing nothing of real worth with it. You can’t take it with you. So, why beat yourself to death for it and then hang on to or squander it? Makes no sense.

Anyway.

As a significant other, I know I’m amazing. Years down the line a guy I was with for a year and a half still grumbles about me “raising the bar pretty freakin’ high”. The most recent was one who adored me for everything I was and could do and be. To see his face light up as I came into view at the airport in San Jose – you’d think he’d just won the lottery. Twice. He didn’t allow me out of his arms until the center console of the rented SUV became an obstacle. After that, my hand remained a captive of his until I could once again be by his side. Again in New Orleans, he couldn’t wait to see me and his reaction said so the moment he saw me arrive. When we were out in public, there was zero doubt to anyone that his affections were focused solely on me. When we weren’t in public… The thing is, everything he did for me and all that he was I never took for granted. I always affirmed, complimented, took interest, encouraged, listened, and allowed him to see how he affected me in turn. Hell, I even spent way too much on Christmas for the guy ($160 for a hat…seriously.) I’m the type who will go out of my way to bring lunch to a work site on my own lunch break. I’ll give a back rub just because I’m near enough to do so. I’ll go riding and hiking and enjoy the beauty of creation, but I’ll be arm candy at a say so. No, I’m not a pushover by any stretch of the imagination. I am a better lover than fighter. Really, my strength is love. Even when love means letting go.

Physically. This is the hard one to go through. I know what I see. I also know what other people see. And these differ at times. I’d be an idiot not to acknowledge that God has gifted me with incredible eyes. That one’s pretty obvious. The other things are difficult partially because of my genetic predisposition to body dysmorphic disorder-type thinking, as well as my brief modeling stint. I have long, golden brown hair which can either be curled or straightened and will basically do whatever I want it to do. I’m tall, and that’s something I’ve only recently stopped complaining about. Structure wise, I’m curvy without being ‘big’, have a great torso (cute stomach…and DD’s aren’t something to be complained about – especially when you’re repeatedly asked if they’re real), and I’m capable of muscle and tone if I care enough to try for it. I’ve had the classic “I’m bigger than society wants me to be” syndrome since I was 13, but every guy I know is appalled when I suggest losing weight. From guy friends to significant others and co-workers – they all say the same thing. If it’s not a blatant “You’re perfect. Shut up” then it’s a “if you were more skinny, that would be gross”. I mentioned this concern to my last relationship to which he remarked on his dislike for bones and his love of my curves. Couldn’t stay away from them, actually. Having a flat stomach is also pretty great. Overall…I know I’m at least slightly above average looking. Alright. Maybe a bit more than that.

Moving on.

This is turning out to be far more detailed than I planned on. OK. So, for the rest of it…I’m strong. I’m musically talented. I’m a brilliant people person. I’m confident, outgoing, fun, compassionate, loving, and caring. I can keep up with the boys on a construction site, and will climb just as high on a rock wall. I’ll at least try the unlikely before declaring it impossible. I love new learning experiences. I’m very artistic. I drew my phoenix tattoo and several friends, even my dad’s office at Purpose Driven, have my paintings on their walls. I can bake better chocolate chip cookies than your grandma – but mine are healthier. ;) I’m brilliant in support-role work environments. I make a great assistant. I multi-task, can type ridiculously fast, and can achieve far more in any given time than the average joe schmo. I can handle whatever life can throw at me, and even if it breaks me for a moment, I’ll bounce back quickly and stronger than I was before. I learn from the past and have more life experience than most twice my age. I know when to speak, and when to shut up. I’ll graciously bow out and take a hit to the pride simply to give another peace of mind. I don’t act based on emotion, but allow time to bring logic and reason into the situation. I always consider the other person’s feelings and possible reactions before speaking or acting. If I feel a strong emotional response to someone or something, I’ll at least give it a night and day before allowing myself to act on it. Emotions are hardly reliable resources on which to rely upon. They enhance life, and can be wonderful and amazing…but they can be misleading and an inaccurate depiction of reality. Every guy guy in my life (ex-boyfriends, friends, whatever) has remarked upon the fact that I’m not a crazy emotional “chick”. I still have a ton of feelings, but they’re not insanely across the board or all consuming. I don’t use them as excuses for being a bitch or being moody. That’s what self control is for. Those around me know what I feel and when, so I’m not a robot in any way. I’m good a crisis intervention. I can put my own feelings aside and take care of another when needed. I can shoulder incredible amounts of stress and responsibility. And the list…

Could go on, but at this point I’m tiring and in need of sleep. The whole point of this is to begin to be aware of the positives. I’m sure this will be edited and added or subtracted from over time. That’s a good thing though. The only time we should stop growing and learning is when we’re dead.

And even then, I’m sure God still has something to say.

Not a brilliant conclusion, but hey. I’m not perfect.

The Blog About A Night At RockHarbor

{ May 5, 2008 @ 5:26 am } · { Legitimate Insight, PG, The Silver Lining }
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The harder the fight, the more you know you need to keep fighting. This is something I’ve learned over and over again but is something I still, ironically, have to fight to remember. There have been many things over the last month or two which have been day to day battles for me. Moment to moment is likely a bit more accurate. Every second, every minute that passes by contains the thought or situation demanding to take my thoughts and actions captive. It’s taken a hell of a lot of willpower with some of these battles. Today the battle was church.

I knew that the fact that I didn’t particularly want to go was a decent indication that I needed to do be at Rockharbor’s evening service today. The series has been on Song of Solomon – a series I have been through with Rockharbor before, but this time around has a bit more relevance due to the timing which can be labeled as nothing short of divine appointment. Considering the situation I recently fought my way out of, a series of this nature was quite welcome. The messages up until now have all been awesome and have hit me in varying degrees, but each of them has carried something meaningful and perfect for the moment. Today, however, the moment was a bit more meaningful.

The battle today was more than just attending church. The main fight was once I walked through the doors. I walked in as someone with PTSD. I was scanning the crowd, acutely aware of the people walking into the building around me, and looking for the tell tale height of one and the style of another. In fact, there were four possible characters who’s presence was expected and partially dreaded for the effect I knew they would have on my night. Once I found a seat, the distraction remained and I found myself constantly wondering if one or more of them were aware of my presence. I knew at least one was present – the feeling of someone watching was quite overwhelming through the beginning of service. Which one, I’m not sure. This preoccupation proved to be quite problematic as the sermon progressed. Words which carried such meaning and insight became dulled in the background as my thoughts took center stage. I found myself playing through the events of last week, then projecting what potential interactions would be like with any one of the four in my mind. Several times I had to wage war against my own mind set and get back to focusing on Mike Erre. I’m incredibly thankful that God was merciful enough to help me tune back in when I needed to. Tonight was a turning point.

The end of the teaching consisted of Mike throwing out several possibilities that could represent our view of our own sexuality. There were several I identified with. The reality of being single and settling for counterfeit or the placebo comfort of a moment with someone irrelevant, just so that the loneliness wouldn’t take over. A past of being abused and robbed of what God had gifted by way of innocence. The idea that my past disqualifies me from future happiness and love and that relationship I’ve always wanted. There were more, perhaps, but these were the ones which stuck with me.

What ended up getting me was Mike throwing out the dare to believe that what God already says about us is true: that we are pure, and whole, and worthy in His eyes and that all he had planned for us is still there no matter what our past looks like. No one is beyond redemption. Nothing is too big to forgive. No sin is too atrocious to disqualify us. We are redeemed, adored, cherished, loved, and forgiven people with the eyes of the Living God focused upon us.

When the teaching closed, I went to one of the side rooms to one of the crosses. There on my knees, I did what needed to happen. I started the conversation. It took quite a bit of willpower to continually fight against the distracting thoughts which tried to fight their way into the forefront of my mind. Even still, I laid it all out there. Confession. Repentance. Letting go. Name by name, I gave him every one of the guys who represent something to me. Every one of my crutches, my hopes, my sorrows, my painful memories, my worries, my stresses, my preoccupations, my false comforts. That’s the thing – even the most angst producing characters are still a comfort because they’re familiar. They’re something I know and recognize and hold tightly to as some form of stability. No matter how damaging, they mange to become a part of my identity. I’ve let them define me. I’ve let them be my source of affirmation and criticism and worth. It’s nonsense, but it’s the only way I’ve know how to function. Name by name, they were released and handed back to God. It was uncomfortable and frightening. In the end I knelt there, and in my minds eye saw myself surrounded by this group of guys and one by one they all faded away until it was just me. Alone, I stood there. In a blank and open white space, I stood still and afraid with no one around to shield or hide behind. But the coolest thing is that I wasn’t alone for long. God stood behind me and wrapped His arms around me. His being engulfed mine until I was surrounded by Him – a barrier against whatever I would go up against.

Tears fell to my hands and I was reminded again of Magdalene. How often I’ve identified with her. I’ve wondered what happened to her. Yes, she was redeemed, but then what? She was forgiven an enormous amount but did she end up with a love and family of her own or did she live the rest of her days alone?

What what about me?

I don’t know the near or far future will look like, but I knew that God was asking me to stop being stubborn. This fight is not one to be fought alone.

I stood in the back of the sanctuary and waited for a somewhat familiar face to go to for prayer. Mike Kenyon appeared and stood with me there and prayed. I told him what I had identified with from the service. The interesting thing was what he said at the very end. He said “I have a sense that you don’t believe that God loves you as much as he love everyone else”. At first I didn’t think he was onto something…then a moment later I realized he had got right to the core of what all my doubts can be traced back to. Really, my lack of faith that God will provide or cause hopes to become reality is saying that God isn’t God – and he doesn’t love me the way I see Him loving other people. I’ve looked at the relationships those around me have been blessed with and though that no one will ever love me the way that THEY are loved. I’ll never be the world to another human being. I’ll never be cherished or longed for and love in return. These realities for other people are a gift. God loves them enough to bless them with these relationships. Why, then, do I believe that I’m not worthy or won’t be given that sort of love? That would indicate that God doesn’t love me the same as He loves other people.

When you get to the core of it, Kenyon was dead on. My own feelings of inadequacy and failure have led me to see myself as sub-par and unworthy. Even of God. Especially of God.

But it’s not true.

What I realized/felt/saw/experienced in that moment was the overwhelming reality that I am adored by Him. Completely loved.

And I dare to believe that this is true. I choose to dare to believe that all is not lost – God is still God. And life up until this point is NOT all He wrote. There is hope and a future, and dreams and desires are not given to torture us with disappointment.

A whole new way of functioning. It’s completely unfamiliar and frightening as anything. Thing is, I’m not alone.

I never was.

I walked away and later out of the sanctuary with a completely different demeanor. My body was relaxed rather than tense. My eyes didn’t scan with fear and expectation. I walked out of that building knowing that I was under the complete protection of His will and plan – no one was going to get to me without His permission. I ran into one of the four on the way out. A hug and a brief interaction later, I realized that the short exchange we had was slightly different from how it had been in the past. Instead of speaking based on how I expected his potential reaction to be, I spoke as myself. I carried myself differently. Smiled more. Was open rather than guarded. I was me.

It’s been a while.

It’s slightly sad when you realize you haven’t been you in such a long time that when you finally get back to yourself, you’re slightly unfamiliar. How I felt tonight makes me hope that this will no longer be the case. So be it.

The Blog About My Car

{ April 29, 2008 @ 5:09 am } · { Bitch Fest, PG, The Silver Lining }
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I can’t really bitch. I brought it on myself.

Already, this has the tone of an angst ridden blog and likely will contain at least a few sentiments along these lines. The above rings of self-pity, but in reality has nothing to do with that. It’s an acknowledgment of the sad reality that I indeed have made some crap choices and am now dealing with the fall out. But that’s not exactly new news.

Today was a mostly good day at work. My part time jerkface of a boss (it’s a love/like thing, really) gave me a run for my money in the smartass response department, and that left me slightly taken aback for a few moments of my in-house supervision. I spent the day with one of our more tolerable students, which turned out to be ideal. I got one of my two SIR’s finished, typed my faux letter to my brother, and got to take the phone call which would set my day spinning at a slightly different tilt.

My car has been in the dealership since I dropped it off on saturday afternoon. I’d had some problems with it a few weeks back, but they had seemed to clear themselves up overnight. On saturday as I was headed back from a day at Huntington Beach, the supposed health of my car became quite obviously inaccurate as it proceeded to sporadically catch in the engine and lose power momentarily. As it turns out, my transmission is going. It’s not gone, but it’s gone enough to warrant immediate action. My adviser at the dealership (someone who’s known my family for over ten years at this point and who always takes care of me) advised that I look into something else as opposed to fixing the car since it would be in the thousands for a repair. I was thrilled, actually. I’ve wanted to trade the car in for a while and the thought of being able to purchase and go into debt for something of my own seemed rather appealing.

I spent the day thinking of possible replacements for the vehicle fondly referred to as Jack, and let myself look forward to the possible change. That was my folly. I looked forward to it. I should know by now that whenever I look forward to something, the likelihood is that it will not be as expected. In this case, to make a long story short, it looks like my car will become the trade in for my dad’s new car. GM has a loyalty discount which my car is still new enough to qualify. Mine’s 2002, my dad’s is a 1998. Same type of car, only his is a manual and mine’s an automatic…and mine is four years newer, a better color, better interior, has a nicer radio, and has been mine since it had 11 miles on it. We’ve been through a lot together. The sad reality is that there’s really nothing in my price range worth getting at this point, so the choice was either fix my car or trade it for something I don’t want. The price tag for fixing my car is roughly 1300 to 1500 dollars. My dad had mentioned the option of purchasing his (which has no issues) and therefore not having a car payment. I initially balked at this concept for MANY reasons. I didn’t want his car. Still don’t, actually. Reality sucks.

I work non-profit. Finances may provide enough, granted, but I got to the point of being upset enough to not care anymore. My dad deserves a new car. His is the oldest in the family, and he works his ass off for us to be comfortable and cared for. My car was purchased by him, then I have been in the process of paying him back for it. In reality, my car isn’t mine. He has had a fund set up to purchase a new vehicle should the opportunity or need arise…so he has the money sitting there waiting to go towards a new car. I don’t have this cafeteria fund. I have savings, sure, but not the amount that he does. There’s a GM model that he’s interested in, which I am neither interested in nor can afford. It makes no sense for me to trade my car elsewhere and lose out on an extra grand of trade in value…all the while my dad deserves something better. So I take the hit. The hit to the pride, the happiness, and the dream. I take his car. He takes mine as a trade in for his new one.

And it hurts. Dear God it hurts. I cried on the way to the dealership, in the car as I waited for the white one (can’t really say mine anymore) to be brought out, then on the way back home. I feel as though God is taking everything away one painful rip at a time. Looks, fitness, people, opportunity, and now my car. The car I was SO excited about the day I brought it home and have loved (even though people give me crap for it) ever since. I have many awful memories and associations with that car, but still it was mine. And now it’s not. I’m trading down.

It may be for a good cause, but it still hurts. I remind myself that it’s just a car. The thing is, it’s not just a car. It’s a representation of a recurring theme – that which I love and enjoy gets taken away.

What next.

The Blog About Weakness

{ April 18, 2008 @ 7:25 am } · { Blatant Overshare, Me, The Silver Lining, Them }
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There’s always later.

This is a phrase I have overused for years. Anyone close to me, however, would have no idea the frequency of it’s repetition. The reason for this is incredibly simple – it’s a mantra I aim at myself. In re-reading it there’s the possibility that it could imply a certain predisposition to procrastination…something I excel at, but which has nothing to do with the above statement. No, this statement is the command echoing in my mind whenever something happens to tip the scales of emotional/mental/physical wellbeing and there are others present. Basically, it’s the dismissal of my own relevance in hopes of glossing over a reality which I dread exposing more than I would fear public nudity. Exposed weakness, be it emotional, psychological, or physical is the most dreaded of human conditions for me. It is also the one which has slowly been inching its way to the unavoidable surface of my daily existence. In all facets, in all possible incarnations, it is rearing its damn head and sadly my mantra can no longer stand. This time, there is no later.

Maybe it’s because I grew up with boys that I’m like this. I know there was a certain level of pressure to be somewhat of a tomboy growing up. My brothers liked sports, so I played sports too. My brothers liked cars, so I learned about cars too. My brothers were all tough and physically strong…and I had to be too. Well, these three theories were just that…theories. They were ideals conjured in my head but lacked the reflection of reality. Really, I was a whining prissy child, an emotional and dramatic pre-teen, and a thoroughly depressed teenager battling between a new ideal and the old one – the war between an image that the runway and print world wanted and the state of awkward mediocrity I embodied. Still though, I never really shunned the whole weakness thing.

I’ve had involvement with a handful of guys since I was 16 or so. A few knew a lot about me. Only a couple actually knew ME. The me that wasn’t pretending I was something I wasn’t in order to earn their favor. It’s kinda sad when your parents have to tell the guy your with that “really, deep down, she’s got a tender heart”. Evidently that was something hidden behind walls of sarcasm and feigned indifference. But it wasn’t a fear of the whole weakness thing.

Although there are several incidents over the last few years which have solidified this carbon fiber exterior, there’s really one major player other than myself who can be credited with this grand achievement. Most who’ve been around for the last two years or so likely have a good idea of the reference. In case there’s any stragglers among the pack, here’s the basics.

I’d had three boyfriends prior to this one. One three month relationship that was ridiculously colorful from start to finish, one nine month relationship which provided a great deal of learning and growth as a human being but still I kept on the periphery of the heart, and a eighteen month relationship which ended long after it should have in my book but entirely abruptly in his. The next relationship lasted only seven or eight months total, but was the main source of the mortar which kept together the “nothing can get to me” mentality. This fact is only because he did just that…he got to me.

He’s the one I let the closest, the one I was most vulnerable with, and the one I thought at would point would be the one I’d marry. I was wrong on this last theory, obviously, but during what would be the demise of the relationship was when several key and lasting lessons were learned. First was the idea that emotion was not ok. Well any extreme emotion, however justifiable, was looked down upon and seen as weakness. Another lesson was the one where I was required to remain completely compliant and unaffected regardless of the stress or circumstances presented, or this too would be considered weakness. Lastly, I felt I was expected to posses and maintain a certain physique and level of physical strength in order to keep up and be acceptable. Though the last one is one I inferred from various comments and physical treatment, the first two were sentiments voiced in my direction by way of criticism of my failure to behave on par with these benchmarks. In summary, the lesson learned during a six week period of time was that weakness of any kind was looked down upon with disapproval and distaste. Any signs of the weaker side of humanity (tears, pain, sickness, sadness…etc.) were treated with annoyance and apathy, then eventually listed amongst the reasons why he stopped loving. For instance.

From the time I was a young teen up until this point two summers ago, I was not a crier. I rebelled against anything which could land me in the category of being a “chick”. Emotional, vulnerable, bitchy…whatever. The derogatory meaning of the term. During this stint, however, there were a few instances where the circumstances ended in tears. Most of these were a result of treatment or outside influences on the relationship. The times where I was in severe pain and (in separate instance) sick as a dog, the concern was non-existent and the expectation was to man up and deal with it. The result? The understanding that my opinion was irrelevant, my wishes inferior to that of anyone else, my feelings didn’t matter, pain and sickness were not acceptable, and through all this his wants and needs were the order of the day. Or six weeks, really.

What the hell does this have to do with reality now? It’s these lessons that ended up being the way I functioned from there on out. It’s why it was a completely foreign idea that a guy could be interested, attracted, and respect me enough to take all these things into account, in addition to protecting my feelings by guarding his own behavior. Last year in the case of the pseudo relationship during the summer and the subsequent one that fall, I didn’t know how to act around guys who expected and wanted me to show emotion and voice feeling or opinion. I didn’t know how to accept that I was wanted without the physical “want” being demanded or pursued. More times than I can remember were my automatic apologies and feelings of shame for showing vulnerability completely contradicted by an almost dumbfounded response from the guy involved, who thought I was ridiculous for deeming my state unacceptable or repulsive. I even was given shit for tensing so that only muscle rather than “squish” could be felt when a hand was rested on my leg. Playfully smacked, actually. Even so, the lesson I’d learned previously was so ingrained…

Admitting that I need in any capacity is like pulling teeth. Without anesthesia. Admitting that something hurts or bothers me is avoided at all costs. Sickness? Hell no, it’s just a cough…that’s lasted three weeks and involves frequent clearing of various matter from my lungs. Pain? Nope. That pulled quad feels super, and even better when I run on it. Yep.

Nope. Not so much.

Not anymore, that is.

To my horror the facade is no longer universally effective. The last few months have been a learning experience on every possible level, and now that every level has been demolished, it’s apparently time to re-build from the ground up.

And it sucks. In a major way.

I hate that there are many people who have seen the broken version of Natalie. Weather it be stone-faced in church, barely above functioning at the restaurant, or attempting to maintain composure at the school (while apparently doing a crap job of it), there’s been far too many instances of somewhat less than wonderful. And this lesson keeps coming…

God has spent the last few months stripping away every comfort which I have previously clung to. Everything I’ve pursued in search of solace, every vice which would quiet the turmoil, every crutch which I would lean on instead of Him…everything. He’s removed certain friendships which provided a distraction when things sucked. He’s removed the presence of certain characters in my life who were my source of affirmation and affection. I’m a very physical person, and am now isolated from any source of such attention (read: guys). And on the physical note, the image I previously held of myself has faltered to say the least. The majority of my physical strength and fitness has been lost…and now I’m at the weakest and most out of shape I’ve been in years. Not to mention slightly bigger than I’d like to be. Yeah, the vanity is cracked as well. My sense of comfort and safety at my job may well be switched up for a bit. And it would seem the last two years of repressing hurt and pain by the whole “There’s always later” have amounted to an ocean of grief which manifests its self all to frequently for my liking.

So what’s left? I mean, in general, I’m very self aware when it comes to my own issues and their origin. That’s all well and good, but what do you do when that knowledge is knows…where do you go? What do you do with it? What’s left?

God. And me. In that order, if my will has anything to do with it. Don’t get me wrong, I can spout of religiosities all day and present sound and convicting theological statements about God and life, but that ability doesn’t always reflect the heart. My head knows these things, but it’s living as if I actually believe it which is the challenge. It’s all learning. Well, re-learning how to live with a different mind set. It’s scary as hell and unfamiliar, but it’s the obstacle course I’ve landed on. I think it’d be safe to say I’ve been guided to this time and place, actually. It’s no accident and behind my own kicking and screaming lies the realization and acceptance that God is in control, whether I feel it or not.

So why write about it? If I hate being weak in front of people, then why tell people about said weakness? I don’t honestly know sometimes why I write these things in public forums other than the fact that I enjoy writing – it’s therapeutic and helps me process. But more than that, I think I can’t possibly be the only one who thinks these things and goes through this sort of process. Too many people wear the same facade that many of us present. We pretend we’re ok, but that’s so far from the truth.

I don’t have any cleaver or insightful end to this post. Above is merely honesty. To end it with some cliche hallmark bull shit would negate that. So, there’s that.