Hey again. See, I'm good at this keeping up now. Don't get used to it.
Last post, I talked about how same in myself and lots of dark, depressing feelings forced me to change the way I look at my future. I decided to take "the high road," if you want to be cliché about it. I like to think of it more as the road personally mapped out for me specifically by God, a road that no one else can take.
The first step of that road was to get beyond the shameful experience that had brought me there. Shame, guilt, fear...they're all very useful emotions and shouldn't be discounted or avoided simply because they're unpleasant, but they can cripple us if we let them. So I had to let them go for now. In order to do that, I had to begin again with my timeless mantra of "you're special, you're wonderful, you're perfect," but that wasn't going to work now. I knew that I wasn't perfect, I knew that I had failed. How could I be loved when I was a failure? That's the opposite of what I've believed my whole life.
Almost immediately, I realized that love doesn't work that way. Maybe I knew that before, but it had never meant to me then what it does now. My mother and my brother especially, but others as well, showed me that I was special and perfect and important because I was loved, not the other way around. It was their love that made me who I was.
But that's...not ideal. My mother is an amazing woman and I wouldn't trade my brother for any other brother in the world, but they are just as flawed as I am. There is a chance--slimmest of the slim, and I only believe this as a philosophical theory of general human nature, not of the love of these people--that something could cause them to stop loving me, and then where would I be? Back exactly where I was. I had to find a source of love that was beyond fault, beyond beginnings and endings, that was big enough to cushion me when I failed again, as I would, and strong enough to hold me when no one else would.
And there it was. My new faith.
I've always believed in God's love, and I've always known in my head that I needed it. But kind of like you can't describe to someone what it feels like to attempt to balance yourself on a bicycle, when that someone has never ridden one, I did know know what it felt like to believe I needed God's love. Like I said, up until my realization of my own brokenness, I thought that I was good enough to be loved by God, not that God's love was constantly overcoming my not-good-enoughness.
Again, the transformation sounds like I went from point A to point A, when really it's just...really complicated. I'm sure there's a lot of psychology or religious jargon that I could toss in here to help my explanation make sense, but I don't know the jargon, and I'm just hoping that there are enough people out there who have been where I was that they will just innately understand. If you don't understand, please contact me and I can try again. It's as important to me to learn how to articulate myself in this matter (I am training to be an English Teacher...so...) as it could possibly be for you to understand what I'm saying, so if you're interested enough, please let me know.
Thanks for sticking with me this far. I hope you're getting something out of reading this as much as I am by writing it and processing it. But really, if you have questions, concerns, etc., talk to me about them.
<3 spadeALLcross
13.9.11
Who am I? [Me: Part II]
So, last poast, I talked about January through June. This week, I'm going to talk about July through...well...July. It was a very complex month for me, even outside of Harry Potter. And it started out with a bang.
At the end of June, events transpired that threw all of this over-time development, all of my personal growth and goals into sharp relief, and I got my first real dose of self-induced shame. And this is where both disaster struck and the light at the end of the tunnel appeared. Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
All my life, I've been told that I was special, that I was great, that the world could tell me that I was flawed, tell me that I had no merit, but that none of that mattered because I was loved in a way that I should never forget. My mother instilled this belief in me for years, and it was reaffirmed by my Church and my brand of Christianity (which primarily revolved around "God loves me, he's gone to great lengths to show me that, and his love for me is all that matters."). The only thing wrong with this belief was that I thought (completely subconsciously, in unchangeable ways) that I was loved because I was special, because I was great, and that when the world told me I was flawed and had no merit, the world was unquestionably wrong on all counts. That is a very dangerous worldview, and at the end of June, I realized how dangerous it had made me as a person.
I'm not going to tell you, Internet, what happened in June, because it's not important to this conversation. But essentially, I finally did something that, in my mind, was "bad" enough to make me feel ashamed. Really ashamed. Not the shame that I've felt before because someone is telling me I should, like when, in junior high and high school, I felt like I was fat and was ashamed that I wasn't able to lose weight and wear clothes like other girls did. Not the shame I feel when my standards are too high, like when I wanted to take AP physics even though I had no designs for a scientific career or any need to sweat through an entire year of a killer class, and when doing so would hurt me in the other subjects I actually excelled at and wanted to better understand. Not shame that is in anyway connected with an outside source or something beyond my control. Shame that I had done something seriously wrong, and now I had to live with the consequences. Shame that no one I told about my situation would have any reason to feel pity for me; I had brought this upon myself.
Whether what I did was actually as bad as I thought it was at the time, I can't say. Whether the worst punishment I could have reasonably deserved for it was anything life shattering or shame-worthy, I don't know. What's important is what I felt in that moment, because that's what changed everything.
The "you're special, you're great, don't ever change" mantra that had been playing on repeat for my whole life sort of skipped for a moment. Suddenly, I looked at my life, my faith, my relationships, and everything I did and thought and said in a completely new way. And it was not refreshing. What I saw was brokenness, complacency, and a dangerous habit of doing what I want because I want to, and then expecting things to work out in my favor regardless. Most of my life had been shame-free, and it was only this one instance that made me see things this way, but I saw laid out ahead of me two paths branching out from one decision: either I could take my situation seriously and really reflect on what it meant to me and how I wanted to proceed, which would probably involve pain and loneliness and challenges I felt unprepared for, or I could pay the minimum penalty and revert back to comfort and safety where things were exactly where I expected them to be and I could count on my instincts to see me through.
The first path didn't lead out very far. I couldn't see the whole way down. But kind of like a real road on a really foggy night, when you can see the glow of the street lights even though you can't see what they're falling on, I could see the satisfaction in that road. I could see spots of darkness, but I saw a comfort that went beyond the shallowness of my previous comforts. More than just making myself happy and trying to get to oases of pleasure, walking down that first road would create oases where there were none, would find comfort in places I didn't think it existed, and would end with the happiest, most satisfying destination I could have, though I don't yet know what that is.
I could see farther down the second path, but then it too turned foggy, even foggier than the first path. It looked easy and familiar, not much different than the path I was walking down already. But the streetlights were not welcoming. If I had screwed up already, (and such a small screw up had affected me this much), I was bound to do it again, and there was a huge chance that it would be worse in the subsequent times. There was no guaranteed warmth down this road and no assumption of a happy ending. That didn't mean there wasn't one, but just that I wasn't as sure of it.
It sounds cheesy with all the analogies. But I guess describing my self-reflection during this time is like trying to describe a dream. Since dream worlds are not the same as the real world, you have to change some details to make the dream explicable. Since my mind works differently than yours, I have to make analogies to help you understand. It wasn't cheesy at all when I went through it. It was very real and actually very scary. But my decision was easy. Of course I took the first road.
So that where I was in July. Tune in next time for the continuation of my journey, which concludes summer.
<3 spadeALLcross
At the end of June, events transpired that threw all of this over-time development, all of my personal growth and goals into sharp relief, and I got my first real dose of self-induced shame. And this is where both disaster struck and the light at the end of the tunnel appeared. Let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
All my life, I've been told that I was special, that I was great, that the world could tell me that I was flawed, tell me that I had no merit, but that none of that mattered because I was loved in a way that I should never forget. My mother instilled this belief in me for years, and it was reaffirmed by my Church and my brand of Christianity (which primarily revolved around "God loves me, he's gone to great lengths to show me that, and his love for me is all that matters."). The only thing wrong with this belief was that I thought (completely subconsciously, in unchangeable ways) that I was loved because I was special, because I was great, and that when the world told me I was flawed and had no merit, the world was unquestionably wrong on all counts. That is a very dangerous worldview, and at the end of June, I realized how dangerous it had made me as a person.
I'm not going to tell you, Internet, what happened in June, because it's not important to this conversation. But essentially, I finally did something that, in my mind, was "bad" enough to make me feel ashamed. Really ashamed. Not the shame that I've felt before because someone is telling me I should, like when, in junior high and high school, I felt like I was fat and was ashamed that I wasn't able to lose weight and wear clothes like other girls did. Not the shame I feel when my standards are too high, like when I wanted to take AP physics even though I had no designs for a scientific career or any need to sweat through an entire year of a killer class, and when doing so would hurt me in the other subjects I actually excelled at and wanted to better understand. Not shame that is in anyway connected with an outside source or something beyond my control. Shame that I had done something seriously wrong, and now I had to live with the consequences. Shame that no one I told about my situation would have any reason to feel pity for me; I had brought this upon myself.
Whether what I did was actually as bad as I thought it was at the time, I can't say. Whether the worst punishment I could have reasonably deserved for it was anything life shattering or shame-worthy, I don't know. What's important is what I felt in that moment, because that's what changed everything.
The "you're special, you're great, don't ever change" mantra that had been playing on repeat for my whole life sort of skipped for a moment. Suddenly, I looked at my life, my faith, my relationships, and everything I did and thought and said in a completely new way. And it was not refreshing. What I saw was brokenness, complacency, and a dangerous habit of doing what I want because I want to, and then expecting things to work out in my favor regardless. Most of my life had been shame-free, and it was only this one instance that made me see things this way, but I saw laid out ahead of me two paths branching out from one decision: either I could take my situation seriously and really reflect on what it meant to me and how I wanted to proceed, which would probably involve pain and loneliness and challenges I felt unprepared for, or I could pay the minimum penalty and revert back to comfort and safety where things were exactly where I expected them to be and I could count on my instincts to see me through.
The first path didn't lead out very far. I couldn't see the whole way down. But kind of like a real road on a really foggy night, when you can see the glow of the street lights even though you can't see what they're falling on, I could see the satisfaction in that road. I could see spots of darkness, but I saw a comfort that went beyond the shallowness of my previous comforts. More than just making myself happy and trying to get to oases of pleasure, walking down that first road would create oases where there were none, would find comfort in places I didn't think it existed, and would end with the happiest, most satisfying destination I could have, though I don't yet know what that is.
I could see farther down the second path, but then it too turned foggy, even foggier than the first path. It looked easy and familiar, not much different than the path I was walking down already. But the streetlights were not welcoming. If I had screwed up already, (and such a small screw up had affected me this much), I was bound to do it again, and there was a huge chance that it would be worse in the subsequent times. There was no guaranteed warmth down this road and no assumption of a happy ending. That didn't mean there wasn't one, but just that I wasn't as sure of it.
It sounds cheesy with all the analogies. But I guess describing my self-reflection during this time is like trying to describe a dream. Since dream worlds are not the same as the real world, you have to change some details to make the dream explicable. Since my mind works differently than yours, I have to make analogies to help you understand. It wasn't cheesy at all when I went through it. It was very real and actually very scary. But my decision was easy. Of course I took the first road.
So that where I was in July. Tune in next time for the continuation of my journey, which concludes summer.
<3 spadeALLcross
8.9.11
Where do I think I'm going? [Me: Part 1]
Yup. As per usual, as most of you expected, it has been a while since I last updated here. That's not for lack of trying, believe me. It's just that, between my list of goals I wanted to complete over the summer, my time spent unavoidably (if not welcomely) separated from my computer, the revision of my personal priorities, and the onset of school this week, every time I had something to blog about, I was convinced that there was some better use of my time elsewhere, and I was not often wrong.
The unfortunate consequence to this is that I now have a lot of stuff to say, while you have not developed some über stamina that would allow you to read it all in one sitting. So consider this the first installment in a long line of get-to-know-Mary posts. Because that's what they'll all have in common: "About Mary."
We'll start with the beginning. These past eight months have been the most renewing months of my life. They have been the most unstable, the most disappointing, the scariest, and the most wonderful time I have ever spent doing anything. Throughout the four months I was in England, I became much more like the person I've always wanted to be; I became more confident in myself, less reliant on the affirmation of others, and more open and willing to try new things and take real risks. I struggled, especially against myself, while I was there--I was homesick very often, out of my element with almost every step I took, and fully aware 98% of the time that I was less than perfect in many significant ways. My semester abroad was not different or special in comparison to anyone else's semester abroad. It changed me, certainly, like any new experience would, and it showed me who I really was, and sometimes that reflection made me cringe. But I think that's what those sorts of programs are designed to do. And if not, they still manage to more often than not, in my experience.
Fourish months removed from that time, I think I can safely say I've finally gotten around to processing it, and I think the most noticeable development it started in me was my newfound desire to travel. I've always wanted to be a "world explorer," meeting new people and traveling to exciting places, just so I could see the world. But now that I've had the smallest taste of that, and I know at least some of the downsides to that kind of an adventure, I feel like when I say, "I want to travel the world," I mean it now. I know what's at stake, where I didn't before, but I also know what glorious things can happen as a result, and that prospect is exciting more to me than the fears are scary.
Then the summer started. There was undeniable culture shock as I moved back to the US, even just from England (which is not all that different), and that experience further opened my eyes, showing me what I felt I needed to change about my lifestyle, that, in some cases, it just wasn't a choice anymore. It's one thing to say something is important to you, it's another thing to realize that you simply cannot live your life without it. My transition back to the states, back to things, relationships, and interests that once felt comfortable to me made me see more clearly which pieces of myself I needed to put the effort into preserving, and which pieces I needed to weed out. The process is ongoing and challenging, but as I said, I simply can't stop. I believe there are certain foundational pieces of my personality and my life that, if I neglected them simply because they were hard, I would be lying to myself about who I was, which would make my life hard to live anyway. It's a lose-lose, in a [pessimistic] sense, but I think the intentional, challenging way is the more sustainable and rewarding way.
So that's where I was around the middle of June. Tune in next time to hear about July.
<3 spadeALLcross
The unfortunate consequence to this is that I now have a lot of stuff to say, while you have not developed some über stamina that would allow you to read it all in one sitting. So consider this the first installment in a long line of get-to-know-Mary posts. Because that's what they'll all have in common: "About Mary."
We'll start with the beginning. These past eight months have been the most renewing months of my life. They have been the most unstable, the most disappointing, the scariest, and the most wonderful time I have ever spent doing anything. Throughout the four months I was in England, I became much more like the person I've always wanted to be; I became more confident in myself, less reliant on the affirmation of others, and more open and willing to try new things and take real risks. I struggled, especially against myself, while I was there--I was homesick very often, out of my element with almost every step I took, and fully aware 98% of the time that I was less than perfect in many significant ways. My semester abroad was not different or special in comparison to anyone else's semester abroad. It changed me, certainly, like any new experience would, and it showed me who I really was, and sometimes that reflection made me cringe. But I think that's what those sorts of programs are designed to do. And if not, they still manage to more often than not, in my experience.
Fourish months removed from that time, I think I can safely say I've finally gotten around to processing it, and I think the most noticeable development it started in me was my newfound desire to travel. I've always wanted to be a "world explorer," meeting new people and traveling to exciting places, just so I could see the world. But now that I've had the smallest taste of that, and I know at least some of the downsides to that kind of an adventure, I feel like when I say, "I want to travel the world," I mean it now. I know what's at stake, where I didn't before, but I also know what glorious things can happen as a result, and that prospect is exciting more to me than the fears are scary.
Then the summer started. There was undeniable culture shock as I moved back to the US, even just from England (which is not all that different), and that experience further opened my eyes, showing me what I felt I needed to change about my lifestyle, that, in some cases, it just wasn't a choice anymore. It's one thing to say something is important to you, it's another thing to realize that you simply cannot live your life without it. My transition back to the states, back to things, relationships, and interests that once felt comfortable to me made me see more clearly which pieces of myself I needed to put the effort into preserving, and which pieces I needed to weed out. The process is ongoing and challenging, but as I said, I simply can't stop. I believe there are certain foundational pieces of my personality and my life that, if I neglected them simply because they were hard, I would be lying to myself about who I was, which would make my life hard to live anyway. It's a lose-lose, in a [pessimistic] sense, but I think the intentional, challenging way is the more sustainable and rewarding way.
So that's where I was around the middle of June. Tune in next time to hear about July.
<3 spadeALLcross
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