Monday, January 27, 2014

Still to go

I might be the happiest I've ever been on a Monday besides the first of summer camp or a holiday that lands on a Sunday that makes the following Monday a holiday too. This weekend was suppose to be a glamorous occasion, a time to meet Hans' co workers and have them meet me too. I meant for them to meet the charming me, with the pretty gown I picked out from Rent The Run Way, genteel with grace and pose, the version of me I dream up every now and again. Not the grumpy, sad little girl who is stewing over a broken zipper and sitting in a round table with bunch of financial stiffs in someone else's non-formal gown. Not to say that I wasn't fainting with gratitude that my friend G came from home with three of her own dresses and helped me get dressed, while the boys are texting us that we need to hurry because the program is starting. I looked up at the eager faces that approached me during the reception hour with blankness because I wasn't wearing the dress I wanted. Am I this immature at heart? This rigid and obsessed with my own perfection that I can come unraveled before my husbands' mentors, role models, and co workers? Apparently yes.

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...

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Nice to me

I put my finger in the blender and it's a bit chewed i will keep this short. I wanted to get this  down on "paper" before it slips my mind, my feeble mind, these days. Per usual, talk of resolutions arise when we are at my parents' house because my dad likes us to have goals and dreams for ourselves. That's really the reason, and not some underhanded way of telling us we need to quit being so temperamental or that we need to respect our elders, in another words, them. When my dad asked me if I had any resolutions in the new year after making his rounds to the others, I curtly said "nope, nothing." I was sick of dreaming have something to look forward to and work toward, it was impossible to have your way when God is always messing up your detailed plans, or even less than Him, a toddler, who on a daily basis messes with my plans. My dad frowned and said, "I will give you resolutions, here they are...continue exercising and write." Thanks dad...but resolutions are self-produced and self-promoted, if that even makes sense.

Today, I got out to the gym after a long stay indoors and even longer stay in my favorite PJ pants had slit in the knees because apparently, I've overstayed my welcome in them. So, I threw them out, put on my fanciest work out pants from Lulu Lemon and braved the weather. I think I just needed a good sweat session to be nice to myself again, putting 2013 to be for good and rethinking my 2014. I should have expectations and dreams for myself instead of resigning to being Eeyore for the rest of my life because I can't have things exactly the way I imagined for myself. I want to give myself a chance to have hope, isn't that what resolutions are at the end of the day? Having hope that this year will be different and I'm going to help it be different.

So, I'll share my resolutions for 2014

- Read the Bible every day
- Memorize scripture
- Practice more yoga
- Write more
- Read more