(I’m about to rant a little bit, but part of why I’m doing it is so that if some person out there stumbles across this blog post, they’ll know they’re not alone. Feeling like you’re the only one like you is the worst.)
I hate being a girl sometimes. Especially when I’m surrounded (generally) by status-quo girls.
Why? Being a girl is great, when you get doors opened for you, and when guys call you ma’am, and when you get free stuff. But it’s not so great when you don’t really fit in with the girls, and you’re the only one who wants to do a cannon ball contest, and you like cooking but would rather talk about The Walking Dead than about who is dating who (even though, let’s face it, that can be intriguing). And then you get the weird looks from the girls and the “huh. must be a lesbian” looks from the guys. And then the girls judge you hard for being boy crazy because you get along better with the guys, which puts a bigger wedge in that friendship, and the guys only include you because why not, or even worse just ignore you, or go back to the “huh. must be a lesbian” looks. Awesome.
Maybe I’m just feeling victimized, but since I feel like I can’t really talk to anybody besides the rents about this, and they’re both asleep, I’m blogging about it.
Jesus said, “The first in importance is, ‘Listen, Israel: The Lord your God is one; so love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.’ And here is the second: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ There is no other commandment that ranks with these.” – Mark 12, MSG
I have a really hard time with the loving myself. As I’m packing for a semester, I can’t help but think through every little scenario that could go wrong because I screw up. Every scene that plays through my head either includes me messing something up horribly, or ends with me telling myself “That would never happen. When do those things happen in real life? To you, anyway?” I guess you could say that I’m kind of hard on myself. And by kind of, really. But I know that I’m not the only one who is like this. There are tons of us out there who live on a diet of self-deprecation and black coffee. We allow little hope for ourselves, while trying to give everyone else the benefit of the doubt. But something I’ve noticed is that when I’m in a particularly low and muddy rut of self-doubt, I become more bitter towards the world around me, no matter how many people I give second and third chances to. “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” It’s way harder to love others when we can’t love ourselves. And I’m finally starting to really love myself, thank goodness. I still look in the mirror sometimes and say “Ugly”, but more and more often I say “Huh. Not bad.” I’m starting to let me love me, and consequently I feel like I love others more genuinely. It’s amazing.
So, I didn’t go to church tonight. I’m not running a temperature, nor am I vomiting. I haven’t been at work all day, nor was I up all night taking care of a sick baby. I just didn’t feel up to facing people tonight. Not a lot of them anyway. Why? Because I’m in this constant state of tears. They just hit, and won’t stop. Right now, the words on my screen are blurry.
And I am so wrong.
I know how silly all of this is. My hate for my own tears. I despise crying in front of people. It is one of my absolute least favorite things in the world. But I have no problems with other people’s tears, in fact I want for those who are hurting to always know that they can come to me. All the same, I would almost rather crawl up in a ball and die than cry in front of people. And tonight is praise night, and I know that if I had gone the waterworks would’ve started for sure.
So here I am, sitting on my couch, listening to worship music and singing to myself and typing this to you and balling like a baby. I’ve had a lot of trouble lately with talking to God, I guess singing and crying has become my way of communication with Him.
Here’s the thing. No matter how many times I tell myself this, I seem to always forget. I’m sure that God would love for us to be ship shape and in line with what He wants for us. But He loves us and takes us as we are. He takes us broken, screwed up, ship shape, or brilliant. He takes us with tears streaming down our faces. Why? Because He loves us so much.
Would you give your child a stone when he asks for bread?
How much more are you loved?
It doesn’t matter how broken or twisted or useless you think you are, or I think I am, we are His, and we are loved. He is jealous for me. And for you. And if I cry in church, that should be absolutely 100% okay with me. It’s just something that I’ve got to work on, I guess.