30 Days of Truth

So my best friend started this blog thing...called 30 Days of Truth. Aaaaand I really wanted to do it. However, my current blog...let's just say this doesnt fit the status quo for what I traditionally write there. That blog is more of my theological/literary wanderings.

It just didn't fit the tone.

So I thought I'd start another one. A blog that maybe you'll find if you really know me and love me, and thus might actually be interested in the most menial aspects of my life.

For now, as no one has this link for me. I'm writing to myself. And I'm feeling really okay about that. So if you are here, congratulations, and thanks for joining me on this more "traditional" blog journey.

DAY 1 Something you hate about yourself.

Hmm. Not to be Debbie Downer (Ha! I dont have to worry, no one is even reading this! Love it.) but the list of things I love about myself is much shorter. I'm not talking about how I was designed and created. I'm pretty fully convinced that everything about that is pretty nifty. It's the things I've done with that design that disgust me. Many times, I feel as though I shouldn't be trusted with the responsibility of my own life. BUT. (This is my second attempt, I just erased all that I just wrote...oh come on, we don't know each other THAT well yet, okay?)

To be totally vulnerable, the thing I hate the most about myself is my insecurities. And yes, it streams in a vein that flows every avenue of my life, but there is one in particular that I would love to slay the very most. It's in relationships with guys. I've been used before. I've been cheated on. I've been told flat out "You're not worth it." I've been told I was just not pretty. And I carry every one of these hurts into every new opportunity. And even when I try with all that I am to walk out a relationship in a way that is honoring and loving...I fail. And these failures have resulted in gossip. In becoming labeled a flirt, man-eater, and someone who just plays with the emotions of others. And all these I pack into that sad, dark knapsack that I inevitably carry into the next situation.

My insecurity makes me want to hide in a cave and wonder if there is such a spiritual gift of celebacy. Okay. That's dramatic. They make me feel unworthy. They make me feel as though even if I did get into a beautiful, redemptive relationship, that those around me would watch skeptically from a distance as they allowed their presuppositions of my character to place bets on how long THIS ONE would last.

My insecurities also allow shock and awe when any guy DOES show interest in me. I literally have the conscious thought "this MUST be it, because chances are, this is the last guy who would ever find me attractive." So even as he treats me like refuse, cheats on me, uses me, manipulates me, takes from me what has not been freely offerred...I stay.

The one time I had something beautiful, and the approval of all around me (save a few), I was the most exhilarated. He was wonderful, we were the best of friends. I liked everything about him. I wanted to be with him all the time. He was kind and gentle. It was perfect. And yet something was holding me back. I was sharing my concerns with a mentor of mine who said, "I can make this very simple for you. Most people know pretty quickly whether or not this is forever. I'm going to ask you a question. Just be honest." I shrugged and was ready...or so I thought. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him?" A quick and simple "No" came from my heart. I was SHOCKED. I was aghast. I REALLY liked this guy. I thought that's why you dated! To figure that out! But it was like I knew. I will never be able to explain it, beyond that I just knew. Despite having genuine feelings for him, and feeling as though this was the gift from God to redeem all the trash in that knapsack...it just wasnt.

The repercussions from that tear-filled conversation in Starbucks are such that I will never be able to fully express the depth of my heart ache. Eight months later I'm still wading through disdain filled glances, broken friendships, gossip, cruel stereotypes...and yet not a single person who has held these beliefs has come to me.

Was I perfect? Absolutely not. But did I consciously TRY with all I am, to communicate and act in such a way that would be the most honoring? Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes. The relationship I held in such high esteem, as the one that even when it didnt work out, I could say and hold in confidence as a success...has taken rank up top with the most painful.

So we find our way back. To the thing I hate the most about myself. The insecurity that has crippled my confidence such that I sense that no matter what I do, or how I try to be...I have the distinct ability to cultivate hatred from those around me.