Not only did I shrink and not only was I NOT the charming and genteel lady floating through the room, I was sulking in drink and totally came unbuttoned. I can't remember any of the conversations or the people I encountered through out the night. A bit embarrassed, ego bruised and a shocked at the control issues I have about my circumstances, I am defeated. Today, I cleaned the house, vacuumed, dusted, organized the book selves, organized the closet, I made home made soup, did the laundry, and put away our over night bag, which I would have left for a week before I unpacked from a trip. That kind of cleaning. I even put a picture in a frame for goodness sake. I think I'm trying to compensated for the mess I'm making with my friends, with my community and even within myself. I feel a bit undone and crazy. Out of control, and I hate that.
What a sequel to the night I had just the day before, when the same friend that brought me her dress, had invited me to a night at her church. Eden. A night dedicated to women's soul and spirit, to know what it's like to live like we were created to be, live like Eve before the fall (how fitting that the next night, I would reenact Eve's spiraling), courageous. Jeanne, one of the leading pastors gave us three cages we keep our selves locked in.
Cage of control or perfectionism
Cage of comparison or competition
Cage of fear
All three seemed relevant to me but fear was the one thing that drove the whole bus of perfection I am restrained to, and I can't seem to get off of this bus because it just won't slow down. I realize that fear causes me to keep everyone at arms length so that no one would see that my hard striving toward perfectionism isn't as solid it all seems, but its volatile and about to topple over at any moment of wardrobe malfunction. Someone had prayed for me and saw a vision of God leading me up the mountain, then back down the mountain with face unmasked and glowing. When was that going to happen? It seems I'm not being led up the mountain by God, but I'm leading myself down a dark valley, with boozy laments, and stomach aches induced by late night wings and sweet potato fries with plenty of ranch. Maybe I'm hiking down the wrong way because I'm actually NOT letting God lead, but I often squirm my hand from his and run toward what's been most easy or logical to me. Kind of like my toddler...put my hand in yours Papa, I want to be led now...