Thrashing: Day 15: Get naked

“My own belief is that one regards oneself… as an instrument for experiencing. Life – all of it – flows through this instrument and is distilled through it into works of art. How one lives as a private person is intimately bound to the work. And at some point, I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth. If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling, guilt, joy, the slow freeing of the self to its full capacity for action and creation, both as human being and artist, we have to know all we can about one another, and we have to be willing to go naked.”  –May Sarton

i can’t even describe the fear that slowly rises through my chest as i consider these words and the vulnerability they suggest.

the problem is, i agree with them one hundred percent. 

but the panic that envelops me belies the fact that i have been totally unable to do this. get naked. vulnerable.

this is an anonymous blog, because i have felt unable to interact with certain people over all this thrashing, and so i hide this way. 

there is the hiding, and, on the other hand, there is the safety of anonymity that does allow me to bare my most vulnerable spots, and so this is some of the most honest writing i have ever shared in my life.

so there is either the held-back, acceptable one, connected to my name.

or the anonymous let-it-all-out one.

i have occasionally considered letting people know this is my blog. but then i think about how they reacted to my last vulnerable post on the blog linked to my name, and i shudder. i couldn’t. 

or could i?

 

Thrashing: Day 14: Flirt with mystery

i am always amazed at the synchronicity.

my process involves choosing one of a dozen coverless books off my shelf and ripping a random page out of the middle somewhere, and then repeating with a second random book.

and somehow it always speaks.

today i drew the phrase “flirt with mystery” from my little broken china bowl. and as i was processing genesis and the creation of humans, these were the words from the pages.

it’s as if he’s affirming “yes! flirt with mystery! you will find Me there, the Wild One wrapped in mystery…” 

 

 

Thrashing: Day 12: Push a hand away

What is most interesting to me is that though the fear washes over me in waves, there is a bravery i have never felt before. A willingness, a desire, a passion to fight. I’m aware of a commitment to be in the dungeon for as long as it takes. So much so that I am fighting off the hands that are reaching down for me from the lightworld above. “Let us save you,” they say. “Let us fix you,” they call. “Let us dry your tears. Let us overwhelm you with light once again so you’ll forget all of this, and it will be just a dwindling nightmare.” Where were these concerned voices when I was drowning in all that light, living an empty religious life?

                                                                                                       – Mandy Steward, Thrashing About with God

periodically, throughout this time of absence from church, i receive a message from friends who want me to return. they promise me it won’t be weird, and that the longer my absence, the more the darkness will win. they pray for freedom from my chains, and my heart responds “isn’t this the freest i have ever been??”

i know they love me. i know they are well-meaning. but they cannot love me well right now. they are not a safe space for my heart.

for a while, i was responding to their messages, defending my decision to take a break, trying to help them see how this was God leading me away into the wilderness for a time. but they would see only “do not forsake the assembling of yourselves together” and tell me the Spirit would never prompt something that goes against His Word.

maybe so.

but maybe it’s possible that the interpretations they are working with are too narrow, even as they try to apply them too broadly.

Because I would never naturally take this course – it had to be divine intervention to prompt me to move away from the expectations and toward his heart (as i have said before, rebellion is a spiritual discipline for me – it is not my bent. i am wired as a “good girl”, and am slowly unlearning, rewiring).

i had to quit “stating my case” a few months in, since it always seemed to fall on ears that care about me, but care about being biblical more. 

my heart is not held in that space. 

so, i have stopped responding.

{{but i feel the urge to run just under the surface of that healthy boundary, so i think this silence with them will only be for a time. because i am sick of running, hiding, avoiding their judgments and questions i have no answer for. i am sure i will need to stand, as myself, even in their presence, at some point.}}

but not yet. right now? i run, and run wild.

“Don’t you dare!” I yell back. “This is not about you. I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable to see me this way, but you’re not going to rob me of this richness. I am with God. He is here. Imagine that. In the darkness. There is no place I’d rather be. And I will come out when He says we are done, because I want to be healed this time. I want the holes in my body to be forever mended, even if there are brutal scars to show for it. When i resurface, I want to be able to contain the fullness of God within me without it leaking out all over the place. Down here, I am closer to my life to the full than I ever was soaking up sun on the beaches of pretending and performance and duty and devotion. Leave me alone. This is something I must see to.”    

                                                                                                                          –Mandy Steward, Thrashing About with God

 

Thrashing: Day 11: Break tradition

my life is breaking tradition right now.

i have quit going to the church i attended for 15 years. my husband and sons still go every week, and i stay home, and i am told often how much my absence is felt. and yet i refuse to go back. [not yet. maybe never.] not until i know my heart and my God so intimately that i will not collapse in shame every time i walk through the doors, hear the voices.

i am blacking out most of the words of a bible. and responding to the words with my own poetry that is totally “outside the box” as far as what it is actually saying in the text.

i want to get dreads, and a tattoo (or two or three).

i am not a “traditional” stay-at-home-mom. i refuse to allow tasks like cleaning and cooking consistently to take precedence over being present with my own heart and the hearts of my family. i have refused to allow a get-your-shit-together, pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of attitude to reign.

this has been an issue lately, as it is apparently not as okay with other people as it is with me (with us – my husband, though a clean house significantly decreases his anxiety level, is totally on board with the “hearts first” thing). i have had multiple situations recently that have ended up being underhanded jabs at my inability to maintain a put-together household. comments from family members; coming to our house and cleaning for me because they think/say “well, someone needs to do it.”

my mother-in-law interrupted my usually peacefully quiet sunday morning this week, to “surprise us” with hiring someone to come clean our house (this, it turns out, was because a family member was coming to visit, and she couldn’t handle the thought of it not looking like her kids had their stuff together).

i guess it is just not a traditionally valid option for a mother to have interests that take her time away from these tasks.

but. i have to create. it’s just not an option not to for me anymore. it is my space for connecting, and i will keep choosing it, whether it is accepted or not. because the demands of tradition do not rule my life any longer – the spirit does.

Thrashing: Day 9: Say I am tired of….

i have started this post 5 different times now, and apparently i’m tired of a lot, because it goes in a different direction each time. everything from:

i am tired of not sleeping through the night

to

i am tired of thrashing. 

 and everything in between.

but this morning i am finding myself wanting to make a declaration out of it.

 

{{{i am tired of letting fear and shame win.}}}

 

 

it is a daily battle, and my soul has so long known the hunched over deformity of carrying the weight of shame, that it’s too easy to slide right back into shouldering it, when this shame? it isn’t mine. it is a lie. 

but it’s comfortable to me. 

it’s what i’ve always known.

so, to choose the truth [of my worth] is always a battle, and i always enter it with fear. there is so much to be afraid of. failing, succeeding, being wrong, being arrogant,  being unseen, being intimate. being misunderstood.

but, today, i am taking that risk.

after all, my name is Braveheart.

 

Thrashing:Day 8: Make a new language

Thrashing: Day 7: Be honest.

be honest.

why does my breath catch in my throat, and the anxiety begin to squeeze my sternum as i read those words?

it is as if part of me – but not the conscious me, at least most of the time – knows that i have been historically less than truthful. to myself, mostly. i have been unable to acknowledge what i feel, what i think; instead always feeling and thinking what everyone around me does, and expects me to.

i feel panicky as i try to imagine what being completely honest would look like.

authenticity is a word that has grown tired within the past decade or so, but i seem to be only discovering a need for it now. today.

it’s not as if i set out to lie to anyone, and if i recognize that i have, it takes all i have, but i try to make it right. but i’m afraid i slant the truth constantly to please the ears of my audience, whoever they may be. 

this coping habit has been born of fear.

fear of:

*rejection

*being misunderstood, my beauty unseen

*being unloved, unliked, unwanted, alone

*being wrong (if i say what they expect, i will never be accused of being wrong. except when someone plays devil’s advocate WHICH DRIVES ME CRAZY, AND MY ANXIETY LEVELS WAY UP because how can i gauge what they really think, and cater to that, when they are presenting the opposite??)

wow. this runs deep. 

but today, i have sensed a spirit-invitation in this:

to be present with my own heart, so that  i am even able to “be honest”.

to learn to be true, whatever the cost. 

to let the truth set me free.

Thrashing: Day 6: So what?

{that was the prompt i drew today.

but, so what?

i’ve been wanting to write an “I am from” post, since i saw the linkup last week, and today the words came flooding.}

i am from

i am from “no” and “we can’t afford it” and “you can’t always get what you wa-a-ant“

i am from cry it out and be good and talk to Jesus about it.

i am from swinging bridges over creeks and poison oak.

i am from treasure hunt clues on Easter and a hostess cupcake on first birthdays.

i am from animals who die and sisters who cry for them.

i am from having a peace about it, and isn’t that the Lord?

from binding the enemy and the real church inside is made up of people.

from speaking in tongues when knees are scraped, and applesauce and 7up when you’re sick.

i’m from private school and public school and private school and homeschool and private school.

I’m from “we’re [not] moving”

i’m from gasping at swear words and needles and blood.

i’m from strawberry festivals and quilting circles, street hockey and baseball card collecting.

i am from the best chocolate chip cookies ever and newborn kittens that must be given away.

i am from lying on my belly in the grass to observe insects and drying on warm concrete after a swim.

i am from collecting snails and seedpods for a penny apiece and sheet-tents strung across the backyard.

i am from the smell of the food pantry and dollar-a-bag’s at the thrift store and “i don’t know – something with hamburger” for dinner.

i am definitely from spelling bees, and church choir.

i am from mixed messages and awkward conversations and tough love.

i am from scarcity.

i am from trust and obey.

i am from not thrashing.

Thrashing: Day 5: Let others find their way

i am afraid to let others have a different path. (because i haven’t given us all permission to be as free as we are)

i fear that it means the way my heart experiences life and God is less valid, when i am met by blank stares or “biblical” arguments against what i have known as truth. (because i haven’t given us all permission to be as free as we are)

the way i have dealt with this previously has generally been to villify those who would discount my experience, to have hope that “maybe someday they’ll get it”, but until then, they are stuck. (because i haven’t given us all permission to be as free as we are)

my husband cringes when i talk about certain people who have been important to him (us) along the spiritual journey. i caricature them and how judgmental they are, how illegitimate their ideas. i guess this all comes from being trained that there is one “absolute truth”, one “right way” and we have to find it. (because i haven’t given us all permission to be as free as we are)

“Do I really want the cookie-cutter approach? Do I really believe that if Jesus is the way, then our roads to get to Him must all look exactly the same? Our lives must all contain the same elements? There must be God’s one way to live a good life, and the details all play out the same? If I do this, then God rewards me, and if He doesn’t reward me, then I haven’t performed to His liking? Is this my life to the full? Penciled-in stars? 

What’s inside me either matters or it doesn’t. Either it is worth listening to or it isn’t. Either it is worth exploring or it is worth ignoring. But the decision I make about my worth is a decision that will affect my entire life. If my story doesn’t matter internally, my story won’t matter to anyone else.” – Mandy Steward, Thrashing about with God

no one else can decide who i am. people may have their opinions, and they may have differing views about what is important, even what is crucial.

but right now, for me, and for humankind, i can declare:

i am free

you are free

my story matters

your story matters

we have permission to be who we are, where we are, right now.

Thrashing: Day 4: Burn

How to Scream: a Memoir

this is what i would call my book, if i ever wrote one.

i have never screamed. well, not since infancy.

i have just always known it was not allowed, and never even tried. never shrieked, playing with the other kids at the park or in the pool. never screamed across a crowded room to get someone’s attention. never cried out in fear, or from being startled. and i have never screamed that angry guttural one i feel burning down in my gut these days.

i never even used to feel angry. it wasn’t allowed. i spent a lifetime avoiding anger – others’, my own. only recently have i given myself permission to feel what comes, and to express it. because it matters. my voice matters. i matter.

i think the time is coming (and soon) that i’m going to have to let that scream out into the atmosphere.

***

six years ago, on the day i met my spiritual director, she took me and a few others out onto a mountainside to help me scream. they all let out these huge vibrant yells… and as the wind carried five out of six voices away, my mouth was open and nothing would come. 

just like in a nightmare when you can’t cry for help, can’t run, can’t scream.

***

learning to scream is, for me, a metaphor for learning to speak, learning to let my voice be heard, even when it doesn’t want to say pretty things. 

autumn is a season for shedding, letting go, exhaling what needs to be let out.

i have had a recurring image come to me the past few weeks, of a forest post-wildfire, and how that is a picture of what it is sometimes like at the end of a shedding season. things look a little bleak. but there is hope, even in that image, as i learned that serotinous pinecones could never release their seeds to replenish the forest, were it not for the high temperatures melting the resin holding them tightly.

the autumn fire has come, and i have felt the loss, and i am going willingly. because what i am losing is the false self that lives to the expectations of others. because there is indeed beauty amongst the ashes, and life will show itself new, come spring. 

Related articles

• The Pig Herder (wheretheywalked.wordpress.com)