Some Thoughts

Oh to be who I really want to be.   That's what I really want.  I find it incredibly frustrating that there are so many rules and expectations that I must meet that keep me from being who I want to be, who I really am.  All my life I have fought against being a stereotype, against being taken for granted as a number or a specific gender.  I've fought long and hard to be respected for who I am and not what I look like or how many fantasies I fulfill.  I'm heartbroken that apparently in the end, none of that matters.  I guess you can't have it all.  There is no balanced woman who can be both loved and desired.  It seems you have to choose between the two.  Either you are the sexy, strong domineering type who isn't a very attractive person inside, or you're the sweet, caring devoted woman who is relegated to being boring and prudish for the rest of her life.  I hate this; despise it in fact.  It makes me want to scream and shout and take by the throat the prehistoric man who started this whole concept and brought grief forever into women's lives.  I'm not a play thing.  I'm not just a cute face or gorgeous body.  I have a mind.  I have thoughts and opinions.  I want to be respected and loved for who I am and not ignored or traded for a fictitious ideal of a physically pleasing woman.  I AM SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT!!  I am so much more, and I want you to see it.  I want you to see and love it and desire it.  I want that to be the standard for what is attractive and desirable.  I'm sick of being compared to plastic women with balloons for breasts and asses that they have to live on a weight machine to maintain and achieve.  Women who wear clothes that are way too tight, way too revealing, and as classless as they come.  I want to be compared to graceful, modest, beautiful women who are appreciated for their wit and humor and ability to think and reason.  Is that really too much to ask of the male population?  Are you really that entrenched in your pathetic, juvenile ideals of women that you can't really see there is so much more to it?  Perhaps we haven't really come as far as we thought in the past century.  Perhaps we have more work to do than is readily admitted.  I hope the future will allow women to be who they really want to be without relegating them to the ridiculous man-made categories that serve only to limit and suppress the true beauty and awesomeness of all a woman is.

The Forgotten Girl

When I was a kid I was the dorkiest little girl you ever saw. I was skinny as a rail and wore glasses that were too large for my face. Even worse, my left eye's vision was so poor that the lens in my glasses magnified my eye to the extent that people readily noticed my left eye looked larger than my right eye. I very rarely had my own clothes to wear and mostly ran around in things my 4 older sisters had handed down to me. Needless to say, I was never wearing the latest fashion in anything. To make matters worse, I was one of the biggest tomboys you ever met. That meant that my hair was usually an unkempt mess and my outfit was chosen for comfort rather than any sense of style or fashion. As I said, I was the dorkiest little girl you ever saw. I had nothing going for me and I was regularly made fun of for my appearance. I was an introvert to the max as a child. I preferred reading a book alone to playing with any of my friends, and that served me well in ignoring the fact that I was not one of the cool kids. The honest truth is that my books were always far kinder to me than the reality I lived in and I never had to worry about how "ugly" or unwanted I was when I was reading. Sadly, though, I am realist, and I always knew what I appeared like to others. I knew I wasn't pretty or nice to look at. I knew I wasn't popular.
 I gave you all that background to say this, today I realized something about myself that shocked me. I still see myself as that dorky, unattractive little girl. Twenty years have passed since I was that girl, but I have never shaken that identity. It's become a part of me, embedded in the deepest layers of my identity. Sure, I've changed a lot, particularly in the past 4 years, but deep down, in the part of me that no one sees, I am still her. I'm still wearing shabby clothes and glasses that don't fit and my hair is still a mess. I'm still ugly, still unlovable, still the dorkiest girl you'll ever meet. I'm amazed that I never realized before that girl was still alive and well inside of me, and still very much a part of me. Her presence motivates me to act in certain ways and believe certain things about myself. Who I am today is very much tied to who she was. I still prefer to be alone than to be with people, believing that others really don't want to be around me. I still feel awkward and funny looking to others. I'm still not comfortable in my own skin.
 While there are many things that have changed about me and I have grown up and grown out of so many bad habits and bad ideologies, I can't help but wonder how it is this girl has managed to stay here in my subconscious, influencing me in ways I never imagined. She affects my self-image, she influences the way I relate to my husband, she helps determine my attitude about how I take care of myself, and she is constantly whispering in my ear what others are thinking about me. How did this happen? Why is she still here? I ask these questions, and yet I know the answer. Early life experiences are important. They help shape who you become and how you view yourself. If those early experiences are bad and they are never addressed, they hang around, crouching in the shadows of your ever growing experiences, continuing to influence you until they are properly taken care of. I know this, but I never realized what it meant for me. I'm not sure why this realization happened today. Sometimes things just hit me at random moments. All I know it that suddenly, sitting at my desk, I saw a picture of myself staring into a mirror and the reflection gazing back was that little girl from so long ago. The pain that twinges in my chest tells me the picture is true; that is the reality of how I see myself. This forgotten girl from so many years ago has never really gone away. She has merely slipped into the shadows of my mind, where her influence is hidden but never nonexistent.

Being Honest

I feel like being honest today. Sorry if it's a bit too much for you; but I need to get it off my chest. It's been eating at me for a while and I figured that airing it out would help me deal with it. I've found that many times the things I think about over and over again and dwell upon with such passion, are often times not nearly as important or unsolvable when I talk openly about them as they seemed in my head. I seem to be able to spot ridiculous logic and unfounded feelings far better when they are written down or spoken aloud than when they are merely swirling around in my head. So, without further ado, here goes! I am scared. Scared I won't find a good job. Scared I won't be able to do well at a different job. Scared I won't measure up as a therapist. Scared I am a lousy professional who leaves much to be desired. I'm scared that if I ever get a "real job" I won't be able to handle the pressure. Scared I will never be a success. I'm scared that I am the one person in the entirety of history who went to school for something and learned nothing. I'm scared that all the nice things people say to me are not really true, but just a way to make me feel better about my ineptitude. I'm scared I will never achieve my dreams. I'm scared that my dreams are too big and not realistic. I'm scared that my dreams are fake and not really worth pursuing. I'm scared of trying new things. I'm scared of trying things I really want to try and scared of having new experiences that I am truly curious about. I'm scared of failing. I'm scared, plain and simple. I thought that after living on my own for a while and having a few adventure that my fears would subside. I thought that after some experience and at least a year on the job that I wouldn't be scared anymore. But, no, I am still scared. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever not be scared. To me that seems like a completely foreign concept, but it has to be possible. Why else would Scripture say that perfect love casts out fear? When I think about this, I realize that not only do I not have perfect love (something I continue to work on), but I don't truly believe in the perfect love of God. If I truly believed that God loved me and I loved Him, there would be no fear that He might fail me and I might fail Him. That's something to think about and definitely something worth pursuing.

Puppy Love

So, as I mentioned in my last post, Mr. Darcy and I recently got a new puppy. When we first started talking about getting a dog, I was a little apprehensive. I didn't want a little critter running around in my kitchen, getting dog hair all over the furniture. Mr. Darcy kept assuring me it wouldn't be like that and that having a dog would be so great. Still, I was skeptical. Then, I say her picture on the Humane Society website and I knew she was perfect. We went to meet her in person and I was sold. We had to have her. Last Saturday we picked her up and took her home, and our journey began. Her name is Chihiro, and I am in love with her. Her name is Japanese and means "A thousand questions" or "A thousand fathoms", and it suits so well. She is our little investigator. She sniffs out everything and is not comfortable in a new place until she has explored every nook and cranny. She is a mischievous little imp with all the hyperness and love a puppy is supposed to have. She is shy but curious and she is so sweet and loving that it's hard to not fall in love with her. Her little tail wagging frantically makes my heart so happy. I love feeling her puppy kisses on my hands and laughing when she tickles my feet with her little puppy tongue. She's a cuddle bug for sure, which makes her the perfect fit for our family. She doesn't like being along and is perfectly happy to sit next to me on the couch and nap while I work on this and that. She's a smart little puppy too. She's been with us for a week now and she's already almost completely house trained. She knows where she can and cannot go in the house and she's quick to ask for a treat when she's been a good puppy. I know this will sound silly, but I never imagined I would love a dog the way I love this little puppy. She has brightened up my life in the past week in ways I never imagined. She has been a real handful at times and she is definitely an added responsibility, but she has made coming home an absolute joy. Chihiro makes me laugh, makes me get out and do more, makes me focus on others rather than myself, and reminds me that love is a powerful motivator. She has been such a great addition to our family and I am so happy we got her.