The Portrait of Silence.

I know I start out every post like this, but.... I don't post a lot these days.  I've kind of lost my mo-jo, and my verve when it comes to writing, and I hope it's just a phase.  It doesn't help that I'm genuinely happy, and don't have a lot to say.  Unless you like reading about recipes I've tried, movies I've watched, and books I've read, there's not else much to share that isn't boring newlywed drabble.  Even those kind of posts feel like work though, like a person being forced to talk about the weather, when they'd rather talk about anything else.

I used to find it so easy to write here.  It was cathartic for me - my own kind of journaling, except the whole world got to see it.  These days though the vulnerability and willingness to speak my heart that I may have felt in years past has been changed it seems, though not necessarily "for the good".  Whereas before I somehow always felt safe to write what was on my mind, it was because I knew I had a safety net of many friends there to catch, love and support me.  I choose not to share my heart now in the absence of some of that security.  There are a few good and loyal friends that I know will always have my back.  I think of them as a pyramid of love, a base of names and faces that have stood by me through thick and thin.  I smile when I picture their laughing faces, whether in my head in memories, or staring back at me from wedding photos on my desk.  I chuckle when I remember the hilarious good times we've had.  My heart warms when I remember the feeling of safety in their amazingly wonderful hugs, and couch conversations that last for hours.  Oh man, how I love you girls, you few sweet, dear friends.

But they stand alone, and overall I have seen other friendships slowly erode over the past few years.  One of the by-products of that erosion is a self-awareness that causes me to guard my tongue much more now than I ever did before.  I used to be a lot more transparent and open, like a tree blowing its branches in the wind.  Now I tend to be guarded, hidden and quiet, and you'll find it much harder to get anything out of me. I'm a bit of a new person, a new me and this one, much unlike the old me, keeps her mouth shut.  You could look at that like I'm wounded - I choose to see it as growth.

Now I must say this - please don't get me wrong! I don't cast blame for this disintegration of friendships.  I don't name names, I don't cast blame, and I am doing my damndest every day to not feel any personal shame about it either. I won't blame me, but I also work every day to not blame you.  Like the old REM song goes, everybody hurts, sometimes. I know I'm not alone in the world in this regard.  Living with grace means that every day I try to count my blessings instead of sheep, and that's where those beautiful faces come in.  It helps, and because of those disciplines, like I said, I'm genuinely happy.

But if I don't blog with much regularity, if I've lost my passion for it, if I don't have anything to say, it's because of this change in me.  Every day I'm learning to take a little of the old and blend it with the new, and today this is how I'm trying.  By writing again.  By not throwing the baby out with the bathwater, and telling myself, I can blog with vulnerability despite the fear of being judged.  I can be honest about my life, and do it because writing is something I enjoy, and transparency is something I value.  Let the haters hate - they're going to anyways.  I just need to be me, for the sake of being me.

And today, what that looks like, is just saying this.  Nothing more than this.  Just saying what I've shared above is enough to get my panties all in a bunch, and so I think it's time to leave it at that.  There is a lot going on in my life that is good, there is a lot that is challenging, and there are ways God is growing me.  I might share about them later.  But for now, this is my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Drowing In A Sea Of Noise

I'm overwhelmed. Really, really overwhelmed right now. And that totally scares me. What scares me more than the feeling is my own reaction. My natural instinct in situations like these is to shut down. True story.

I'm the kind of person that when the picture gets too big to look at and gain full scope of, I curl up into a ball and become completely paralyzed. When there's too many choices, too much advice, too many things that need to be done, I don't know where to start and so I assume the fetal position and do nothing at all. I pray that I can just wait it out with as little damage as possible, like a turtle retreating into her shell.

Recently, I was praying over a course of action in a friendship that I really value. Do I say something to this friend about where I'm coming from, or just shut my mouth and hope for the best? From left and right, above and below, really from every direction, advice was being thrown at me as to what to do. Even if the number of people that were inputting their thoughs and recommendations for my situation was limited, the repetition and persistance of their advice was like an out of tune band, warming up, each instrument seperately, echoing in a vast auditorium. Just a cacophany of indiscernable noise drowning out my own thoughts as it overwhelmed my ears & brain. It finally got to the point that I just had to say "Stop. Be quiet. Let me think, and decide how to do this on my own." The fact that I said anything at all was truly indicative of how much the noise was overwhelming me, because that kind of confrontation is so contrary to my passive nature.

Eventually I was able to let the noise around me fade away, and hear from the Lord. His still, small voice was reminding me to do all things in humility, honoring my friend before myself, and to seek Him first because He's truly the lover of my soul. It wasn't till I got everyone else to shut up that I could hear what He was telling my heart all along. And as I heard from Him, I realized that His advice was nowhere near the advice anyone else was giving me. In His advice, I, for the first time in the situation, had peace which gave me courage to move forward.

The noise was gone. His voice whispered to my heart, and I could breathe once again - breath that gave me life, and the ability to do what I needed to do.

Right now, that's all I want! As I'm feeling that onslaught of noise once again, this time about my career, and job search, my heart is retreating to fear and confusion as it's natural reaction and armour. But neither fear or confusion are bound up in perfect love - the love that my God has poured into me. But sadly, overwhelmed beyond measure by decisions and advice, is how I'm feeling again, as I contemplate the next few months/weeks/days ahead of me as a newly jobless/homeless person.

Really, how the hell did I end up here?

I know things will work out ok, I really do. I'm not failing to trust in God to meet all my needs, and provide for me out of His goodness and mercy. What I am scared of is how broken, vulnerable and humbled He might have to make me in the process. As well as the fact that I am just overwhelmed with all the steps I need to take to get something going in my life - a job, a home, a plan, a ministry, etc.

I'm a pretty open, authentic person. So as I blog today, because I know have the newly acquired time, I'm just laying this out there. I'm totally overwhelmed and feel like I am just bobbing in a sea of choices and actions that need to be taken. I really could use a Life Jacket, God. Can you just throw me a line? Thanks, that would be great. Oh yeah, and if You could just attach Your plan at the end of it, that would be great too. Thanks, your slightly overwhelmed, moderately fearful, pretty much an open book daughter. T.

Back In Black... Or Something Like That.

It’s been a long time, and I feel I must apologize. I’ve been “out of the loop” with writing here lately, and it’s nothing that I’ve done, or you’ve done, as much as just some logistical crap, which God is finally bringing me past. But I’m back, and I’m committed to turning over a new leaf with a few things in 2010, and blogging is definitely one of them.

If it helps to know, at all, I have a huge fear of vulnerability. And blogging here lately has been a source of vulnerability in my life. I’m pretty sure the world would be shocked to know that despite how headstrong, independent, and confident I may ever come across, deep down past all the facades, I’m surprisingly vulnerable and timid, almost to the point where it can be paralyzing. I keep telling y’all, I really am shy!

Vulnerability is defined as “capable of susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon, moral attack, criticism or assault”. I’d go so far as replacing “capable of” with “fear of” – or at least that’s how I’d define it in my own life. In the case of blogging, I have been fearful of criticism, or even repercussions, but more pointedly, of just letting myself, my innermost thoughts and my feelings be known to someone who I decisively did not trust and believed was out to hurt me. Someone who I found out was reading my blog. The whole wide world can read this blog, since it’s out there in cyberspace for all to see, but the moment I found out this person was, I withdrew like a turtle on a hot Florida highway, into my shell, hiding from danger and real life.

But even the most timid of turtles must come out sometime, or risk being run over by a big semi-truck, carrying genetically modified citrus fruit to a state where none can grow so that by the time it gets there it’s lost all nutritional value…. Or wait, analogy gone too far!

What I’m trying to say is this – God is doing too much in my life for me to be timid about people who might want to hurt me. He is my great Protector, and though I must always exercise good judgment and caution, and discernment in the decisions I make, I cannot keep silent about who He is or what He’s doing, and more than anything lately, I really want to be blogging about what He’s doing in my life. So there, deal with it. Ugh!

That, and I really just miss writing. It’s cathartic. It’s therapeutic. It’s part of who I am, and how I express myself, and the woman I want to be. A writer. A really, really good writer. We’ll see. At least this is a good start. You're welcome.

The Truth Comes Out Along With My Tooth

Ok, truth be told on this one - I'm just a big baby!

I just had the remainder of a tooth pulled/extracted/yanked with great force and much pain, and I am a big, old, baby!!! I'm in a lot of pain, and the right side of my face, all the way up to my eye feels like a big football. All I want is for someone to gently comb the snarls out of my curly hair (yeah, summer humidity is here, which mean fun summer hair is here!!), or rub my back, while I cry quietly, because, as we've now established - I am a big baby!!!

I have always prided myself on being Miss Independant (which reminds me, all I really, really want for my birthday this year is tickets to see Kelly Clarkson at the Excel Energy Center on July 25th. And when I say I really want to see Kelly Clarkson, I mean, really as in, REALLY!!!).

Ok back to thought. Like I said, I've always prided myself on being strong, independant, capable, with enough spine for a school of chiropractors. But I'm starting to see lately, thank you God for such lovely lessons, that I'm really not. I am vulnerable. I hurt, I bleed, as the dental assistant was well aware. I need people around me, and not even actually need, as much as now want.

And I desire comfort. Not luxury, comfort. Big difference. I've always afforded myself luxuries, being denied so much growing up. A manicure here, a pedicure there, more clothes than anyone can count, and just fun girl stuff. But, comfort - well that's a different thing. Comfort is the feeling of mom combing your hair gently, or a friend rubbing your back. Comfort is being able to put my head on my friend's shoulder and just quietly sob from the pain and the emotional stress. Comfort is kisses on the forehead. Rainshowers that are gentle enough to forego thunder, but whose drops can lovingly stir up parched, cracked ground to smell fresh and spring like. Comfort is a mug of hot chocolate with a big homemade marshmallow perched atop, when you've just come in from the snow and the bottoms of your pants are wet. To me, comfort is just having someone say I care about you.

Right now, being the emo wreck I am, I desire comfort. Because my mouth hurts like crazy. And I am starting to see the walls crumble, and fall, as I realize, I'm not invulnerable. I'm a big baby!