Sick again, this momma. Not able to do much, and my house is a reflection of that. Laundry piling up, toys every where, kitchen counter tops full. I get easily discouraged when forced to rest and I am not able to be the force of organized nature I usually am (smile). Kleenex are not as fun of a bed time companion as snuggles with my boys. Better days ahead. If nothing else, it has left me time for reflection. Some fever thoughts, if you will...
And I have unfortunately begun to realize that I am far too proud. Much , much too proud. I let it get in the way sometimes. It leads to stubbornness and blindness to another person's point of view. I get all worked up and I can't just let go. I have to prove, prove and prove myself (often times TO myself) again and again. I find myself screaming in my head, "you don't know what I've been through to get to this place--how dare you challenge or judge me?"! It makes me blind to good intentions, to true concern, to even the ambiguous word love (because if it doesn't fit my definition, it isn't real love~~yes, that's how proud I am).
I've always had to fight for my thoughts (others may call it sanity-smile) and convictions--and the right to have them. I've always, growing up, been told I was wrong--any thoughts or feelings that came independently of some one's dictation were pure idiocy. I spent years trying to prove my intellect, but it didn't matter. All the straight A's, scholarships, awards, honors were nothing--not acknowledged and not accepted as anything of remote value. I was still a worthless moron. One of the most painful moments of graduation from Simpson (besides my parents not showing up for honors convocation and arriving to graduation over half an hour late) was just waiting for that, "I'm so proud of you" moment to happen. I had dreamed of this day for so long! It never did. One of my professors and greatest inspirations came up to me and gave me a huge hug, and after a great many minutes, looked at my parents and said, "aren't you SO PROUD of this girl!?!" My father just smiled incredulously and said nothing. I knew I was still nothing more than a speck of dirt on the side walk that didn't deserve to be there, but rather swept up and thrown out with the garbage. It took me a LONG time to realize NOTHING I ever did would be good enough or would earn me any respect. I would always be a less than sign... But, I had a heart, I had the spirit of God in me, and I had a conscience--no matter how hard someone tried to beat it out of me--I felt otherwise. I felt like I was worth something. I held on. And still do.
I really need to "unlearn" this behavior. It turns me into someone I don't want to be and everything becomes a challenge. It is very unbecoming and certainly NOT Christ like. It saps my patience, my understanding--and makes me a raging judgement monster. I want what's best. But sometimes I don't listen and sound off when I should be still.
Looking back at these rages of obsessive zeal, of "how could you think that's" and harsh critiques of intellect and seeing myself in this light makes me want to vomit. It's a very unpleasant irony of sorts. Silent all these years, I've found my voice--and I often times don't know how to stop, shut it off, and walk away.
I will ALWAYS be a fighter inside. After years and years of my "fight or flight" response being tested and choosing the proceeding, it's something that is really hard for me to shake. I will fight for any sense of moral justice I see lacking (and we all know how much of that is out there due to prejudice and inequalities all around us), for my kids, my family, my friends (who are also my family), and for anyone or thing that seems to need a voice. Sometimes it is valiant, yes--and other times just stupid--and a complete waste of energy. I need to learn when it's appropriate and when it's not. Like an addict, I'm all or nothing. I'll go from zero to three sixty if I feel like anyone is being taken advantage of--often without seeing, hearing, or waiting two seconds for the bigger picture. Patience. I need some.
And the very sad part of this is that is shows tremendous lack of faith on my part. If I truly trusted God like I should, I wouldn't feel so defensive or feel like I have to take it all upon myself. I would trust in His perfect timing.
It's been a rough couple weeks. The stresses and stuff of life get to be a lot for all of us. My worries play out in my dreams. I don't sleep. I've had a week of panic attacks, dizziness, sweats that made me wonder if I was having a heart attack~~all anxiety~~all stress~~all my body's way of fighting. It never stops... And then I end up here--sick...
So, I take deep breaths, I pray, I meditate on God's word, I remind myself that "what ever happens in this day, this hour, this minute~~God is already there." And I will learn that I don't always have to be loud, as I once learned to recover from perpetual silence. I will learn to trust that some people are out for other's good (been disappointed far too many times) and that it's not MY job to be the justice police, and that I don't always know everything--there's usually more to the story.
And that when something is blatantly wrong, then yes, I'll grab my fog horn and boxing gloves and sound off. But when change appears to be non-existent--I can't beat my head against that wall all by myself without getting a concussion and losing a few brain cells in the process. I sometimes just have to have faith and trust in the good Lord above and leave it in his very capable hands. It's not giving up--it's letting go and letting God take the wheel before I crash...
This world is a GIANT mess. Children get the brunt of that--women get the brunt of that. God expects me to do my best each and every day--that is all--and that is enough. As my mind rages and my blood boils on with the statistics of abuse and violence against women and children and our country's seeming acceptance through complacency regarding these issues (as apparent by our cultures take on what is even considered "entertainment" in this nation), I have to unclench my fists and instead fold them in prayer. Anger makes me stupid. Prayer humbles me and gives me focus, gives me the only real power I truly have~~a voice to the creator in the midst of the madness...
Stop, breathe, listen, pray, repeat...
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