After a life time of drama, baggage, and mental blocks, I am finally accepting that this is my fate…
i AM loved.
i AM free.
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Week of March 8-12 March 12, 2010
Actions Speak Louder than Words. That’s the phrase I googled, just to see what would come up in picture form.
I have settled on the following, because I didn’t realize this was how I was feeling until I saw it:
I am SO SICK of being drug through life, with people telling me one thing and promptly acting another.
Obviously this has been provoked from one particular individual, but one thing I have learned in dealing with them is that it really isn’t about what they say, because they occasionally say A LOT. Other times they are stone silent, with the exception of one or two words that tend to make their actions even louder. Sometimes they speak the truth as they see it, sometimes they don’t mean what they say, sometimes they mean what they say and don’t care how you feel after hearing it.
And after all that talk – that mindless talk – at the end of the day you are left with their actions.
Through some very heavy “learning experiences” this past year, I have come to see that talk is dead to me.
(Insert moment of irony here: both of my degrees are in communication)
Please don’t misunderstand:
- (On the premise that words mean very little) You DON’T have free reign to say what you want and not be held accountable
- I’m NOT saying that talking – rather the art of dialogue and genuine communication, isn’t needed
But. What you DO have in regards to words + me = this:
- The freedom to say what you think you need to say
- The ability to vent and be given a grace period before I get really angry or upset over what you said
- The “free pass” on those who don’t or can’t communicate well (ie: those who ALWAYS stick their foot in their mouth) because as long as your actions relay your true motives, I can forgive and not fret over semantics
- Communication is the life blood of any relationship, and I am committed to the process of building relationships
I know I know – I’m confusing myself and you in the process.
Communication is vital. Talking to people is foundational. But I’m to the point where I’ve heard so much that I’m done putting stock in what people say; because it is what they do that says more about who they are and what they want (and ultimately what they want from me).
Eliza Dolittle, in My Fair Lady, sums it up quite nicely
“Words, words, words. I’m so sick of words! I get words all day through. First from him, now from you.
Is that all you blighters can do? Don’t talk of stars burning above; if you’re in love, show me!”
Week of Jan. 25-29 January 29, 2010
Picture, Commentary and Song for the week:
(it was a big week)
Luc and I were talking about how hard life has been but how, in an odd sort of way, we’ve been granted “do-overs” for 2010. We have the chance to take some recent faults and failures and to bury them in a time capsule called 2009.
By burying them we see them for what they are, properly analyze and grieve them, and then bury them as fast as Sam can dig the hole in the pastor’s yard.
While we were laughing to get through the pain, she mentioned about writing her memoir on starting over, and asked what it should be called. I mentioned Groundhog Day; partly because it fit, and partly because that has been my week.
Every day this week I’ve taken one ridiculously hard day, gotten through it, and then moved on to the next – with full expectation that it would be different (ahem…better than the one before). If anything, they keep getting worse.
(Please don’t misunderstand. There is tragedy in the world and mine isn’t that despairing. The week has had some good, but it has had an amazingly large amount of bad in it too.)
In the movie Groundhog Day Bill Murray’s character repeats the same day until he has one defining moment that allows his life to move forward. Considering it’s Friday and the days have consecutively gotten worse, I’m super curious to know what I should be learning in order to move forward – because as of today, life’s not letting me.
A life-changing event did happen this week; and it, combined with Groundhog Day, and bits and pieces of the lyrics to Merry Happy by Kate Nash sum up my week perfectly:
…
Gave me those pearls and I thought they were ugly,
Though you try to tell me that you never loved me
I know that you did, ‘Cause you said it and you wrote it down
Dancing at discos, Eating cheese on toast,
Yeah you make me merry make me very very happy
But you obviously, you didn’t want to stick around
So I learnt from you.
Do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do
So I learnt from you.
Do do do da do do do do do da do do do do do da do
I can be alone, yeah. I can watch a sunset on my own.
I can be alone. I can watch a sunset on my own
Sitting in restaurants, Thought we were so grown up
But I know now that we were not the people,
That we turned out to be
Chatting on the phone, Can’t take back those hours
But I won’t regret, ‘Cause you can grow flowers
From where dirt used to be
Dancing at discos, Eating cheese on toast,
Yeah you make me merry make me very very happy
But you obviously, you didn’t want to stick around,
So I learnt from you.
Week of January 18-22 January 22, 2010
I have an amazingly great job, with great work and great bosses and I work with great people. It’s all great, great, great.
Well…
Just like any real-life job we’ve had our love spats and our kiss-and-make-up moments. Given the current state of the world, most days I am thankful just for the income it provides…however, I am now looking at an economy in which the cost of living is increasing at a dramatic pace, and my salary isn’t.
When I was married, the “amount of work + economy = less than what is paid” ratio wasn’t ideal but it was OK. As long as there were two incomes and we could pay our bills, we were good.
With the divorce my emotional stress level has been cut in half, and so has my income. I realized that I have been blessed to work at a job where the amount of the paycheck wasn’t an issue. I now have to calculate every penny, and have this constant thought in my mind that I might not have the luxury to stay at this job.
My job has provided emotional security (rest, redemption, healing), learning opportunities, and amazing friendships. But I am now looking at a situation where financial security is a priority, when in the past it’s never been.
I have done the Christian thing of praying, crying, waiting…and that’s where I am. Still waiting. The one thing I know is that I may never feel totally financially secure; but I do need to be financially responsible. I come to work every day and do the best I can, hoping that I’ll have many more days here but not knowing that for certain, because I don’t know for sure that staying is “financially responsible”.
I wrestle with this daily. Most days I feel bloodied and banged up, and walk away from the match still not sure who really won. I have guarded this closely and have gray hair over it, not to mention many “it’s not fair” temper tantrums.
This picture was captured over the weekend, during the Reboot Youth Leaders Retreat. I do a lot of event planning, and the actual event always reminds me why I do what I do.
More than once that weekend I was told “it’s great to see you laughing again”. I guess when I wake up every day fighting the fact that because of the divorce I could be forced to leave the job I love for financial reasons, the light quickly comes on as to why I haven’t laughed in a while.
This picture is horrible of me but caught a brief moment in time where job + life = good. The divorce didn’t matter, I was momentarily at peace, and Pat and I were united in a common goal: mocking Dave for his bowling abilities.
And So the Story Goes December 8, 2009
With school my reading pace has slowed to a crawl. However, this post is the result of reading The Life You’ve Always Wanted, Ortberg (read for school), A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Miller (read for book club), and I Was Told There’d Be Cake, Crosley (read for sanity and FUN).
Sloane Crosley mentions in the first chapter of her book that when you die, your family will come to your house and begin to look through your stuff. She has a secret stash of ponies, and that single idea launched me on a mental quest of the random things that make me, me; like:
An appreciation for Rocky Top, the Statler Brothers, and Dolly Parton: living in Tennessee as a child (I maintain that my iTunes will be more revealing than my house will. I have a very eclectic taste in music)
A love for shoes: Aunt Sharon gave me flip flops as a child and I called them “cooter shoes”
The desire to write: Uncle Norman and Aunt Judy gave me my first journal at the age of 9, complete with lock and key
A love for Reese’s cups: from Aunt Yvonne, shared in the backseat of a 1982 Buick with Megan on a rainy day in Cleveland
A desire to travel: Lee University’s graduation requirement and a month in Europe
My corny sense of humor: Mom & Dad, and all of Mom’s family
A desire to work for the Special Olympics: my childhood next door neighbor, Kevin
A love for the Fletch movie and book series: Justin Lively
However, there are some things that defy explanation, and are just me being me; like:
A love for jewelry: I told mom at age 2 I wanted my ears “perked” (pierced) and had to wait 16 long years to finally do it
A natural inclination to athletics: I’m no good mind you, but nobody else in my family is all that keen on physical activity
A desire to communicate: it’s what I majored in. Nobody in my family has any desire to be on the news
A LOVE for animals: especially odd ones that nobody seems to want. I currently have 3 cats and a dog
A love affair with Chevy Chase and Matlock: I can’t explain either of these…
These things create the character of Tina: the silly things, combined with a lot of deeper things, along with various people and circumstances. The other day, on the way to church my character saw a beautiful tree that had been scalped. I know there is a reason for this, and that it’s to promote growth; however, at first glance it seemed illogical.
I realized in looking at the tree that growth happens every day. While I hate the way that tree looks, by spring it will have new limbs reaching out in new directions. What appears on the surface to have ruined it will in reality be what’s beautiful about it. There will come a point where I pass that tree and won’t even be able to tell that it had limbs growing in any other direction other than the way they are growing.
Donald Miller in his book writes about story, and what that looks like in life. According to Miller, “story involves a character who wants something and goes through conflict to get it”; and that’s where my character is. My character has come through various trials and attacks in the past year and a half. I feel a lot like that tree. I have been cut down to my foundation.
My foundation still consists all of those silly things listed above. However, in the past year and a half I have found myself compulsively purging a lot of stuff. Goodwill loves me; I’ve supplied half of their store. Material things that don’t matter and that aren’t really me are long gone. I’m shedding a lot of dead weight.
Along with the material stuff, I’m getting rid of the emotional and mental baggage I’ve carried. I used to think that my mom’s family didn’t like me as much as they liked Megan. This Thanksgiving, I found that what they love is the real me, not the me I was trying to be for them.
Soren Kierkegaard said “Now, with God’s help, I shall become myself”. This quote reverberates deep within the very fibers of my being. I have found that I’ve been me all along, I’ve just suppressed it. Now, in being cut down to the foundation, the real me is shining through.
If story is a character wanting something and overcoming conflict to get it, then I’ve got a story. I’ve got the character, I’ve got the conflict, and the thing I want is health and holiness. I’m divorcing myself from a lot of unhealthy things, but that’s not quick, nor is it easy.
In spite of the difficulties this time in life has produced, it’s done something marvelous. All of those things that were potentially harmful and that were growing to produce an ugly tree-me have been cut back. Those branches reaching towards the sky in a helter-skelter pattern are gone and now with careful and precise grooming, the beauty that is underneath is what is reaching forth.
Just like that tree standing there with its bad haircut, I’m still standing. I have maintained my foundation, I am more selective on the things and people that come into my life, and I am day by day growing stronger and healthier.
What should’ve destroyed me (a divorce, various people’s opinions, some not-so-wise decisions) have instead been the things to reveal my character and show who I am and who I strive to be. It’s a hard concept to grasp that divorce could in the end be to my benefit. But Scripture promises that when we allow God to do His thing, whatever that is, and when we obey, He works it all out. It hurts, but it’s worth it. (I’m not blaming the divorce on Jesus; I’ll take my part of the responsibility for the failure and the breakdown.)
Hopefully, this story won’t end. Granted, hopefully it won’t be a divorce the next time God needs to “fix” me; but it will be something else if the desire to be healthy and holy is what I am in pursuit of. Hopefully, I will forever be sensitive to the things that need to change. Like a drawer full of ponies you will hopefully find a lot of lawn and garden equipment, and you’ll be able to say “she found her character, she lived her story”.
Ode to My Mother: What I’m Thankful For (or Thanksgiving 2009) December 1, 2009
While my education is working on a Master’s level, my rhyming skillz are still at the Elementary level. I’m working my way up to a haiku, and I’m researching “poems that don’t start ‘roses are red’ ” on my lunch break today.
So with that I leave you with hopefully my last poem involving roses for a little while.
Even thought this sounds a wee bit dark, Thanksgiving was amazingly wonderful:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Against all of my hopes and wishes
I caved!
~
Ahem.
My apologies.
Let’s try that again.
~
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
You got your way this time,
As it seems you always do.
~
What was I supposed to have done?
You loaded me to the hilt!
I got served a heaping turkey sized platter
Chock full of mommy-laced guilt.
~
How could I resist?
How could I say no?
You and Megan ganged up on me,
and created quite a show.
~
So off I went to Kentucky,
sitting in the back; in my mind clutching my knees.
All I could do was watch the mountains zoom by,
physically sit up straight and fondly hold my keys.
~
“Why did you want to drive?” you asked,
before we ever left.
While I gave you a million reasons,
I never admitted the one over which I haven’t slept.
~
Truth be told, I really couldn’t handle
hours upon hours of you siding with him.
But thankfully, after 11 long months of disagreements,
you validated my feelings, on more than just a whim.
~
Our discussion let me politely but firmly answer your questions,
over the past five years and all that went wrong.
And everything that I’ve been saying you finally grasped,
even though I think you knew all along.
~
I know I’m still just a child to you,
and because I don’t have my own I’ll probably never see.
However the most loving thing you’ve done recently?
That was supporting me, even though you might disagree.
~
Who would’ve guessed
that being locked in the car with you for 8 hours,
would repair that which has been broken;
and heal mindsets that had soured?
~
I guess Jesus knew,
even though I doubted Him to the core.
But like everything else in the past year and a half,
it worked out better than I could’ve hoped for.
~
Mommy dearest, I’m thankful for you
and want to say thanks for the way you treated me.
We finally acted like a healthily-functioning- adult-mother-and-daughter,
which is exactly what I want our relationship to be.
Made in China November 6, 2009
I’ve long been teased for appearing to be of Oriental descent. I fit the (often wrong) stereotype: tiny, dark hair, and eyes that disappear into slits when I laugh.
The other day we were talking about iPods and I got to thinking about Josh’s that Pat and Jan gave me…and how it refuses to function. It keeps showing me a picture on the iPod of an iPod with a frowning face.
So, what does my iPod have to do with China? It’s the fact that a broken iPod is disposable. The only thing separating me from another one is a scant 2 or 300 dollars; NOT the fact that there are no more iPods being produced. The fact that this generation can easily run out and replace whatever is broken is a departure from the generations before us. Back then there were limited quantities. Now we are in an over-saturated market with very little concern of exhausting our resources, and we are losing our ability to place value on things.
And that idea made me think about people. Since when did we start buying into the notion that the people in our lives are disposable? The idea that we can use them, manipulate them, change the original way they came to us to fit our likes and dislikes, and can toss them aside when we’re done with them (should we lose them, break them, or just flat wear them out)? I’m afraid that the notion that everything we want in a person can be found in an Oriental Trading catalog – to fit our mood, our season, in a plethora of colors and more of them than we could ever want – has seeped in.
Do we REALLY value the people in our lives? I’m pretty sure there are no other Tina’s like me. I didn’t have a twin (even if I did, we’d have different personalities), there’s not a robot-version of me (I’m not a craaaazy Stepford wife) and I’m pretty sure if you got rid of me, there’d be a Tina-shaped hole in your life that no one, no matter how much better or worse then me they are, will fill.
This idea goes both ways. For example. I will forever have an Aaron shaped hole in my life. Even if and when I move on and find another relationship, he came into my life and changed the landscape of it – and his departure will leave a mark.
I occasionally feel non-existent or replaceable in other people’s lives, and I feel like my friendship is of so little value to some people that it and I can be tossed aside whenever I’m not performing right or being right or fitting their ideal; but what really saddens me is that I did those same things to him.
PAUSE
& HEAR ME NOW: I do not want him back. We didn’t work and that’s ok. What’s not ok is that I had this unrealistic man in mind. I was broken and even though I said I didn’t, I expected him to be the ideal. He couldn’t. I wanted to take the man and change him, beyond the line of what is normal. I wanted to tailor him to the catalog specifications. However, I couldn’t, and there’s only one of him.
Now. This too goes both ways. He replaced me in his life. When he was done with me he would move on to the next thing (and trust me, that list was lengthy). The little plastic toy that our relationship had become, the one that was picked up and put down with ease, is also the one that will leave a memory or two; hopefully some of them fond. I was remarkably dispensable but still left a hole because he allowed me into his life for relationship with him.
And so, I look at our broken relationship in which we each bear responsibility and at the other relationships in my life. How many more people am I doing the catalog search on, in which I order them as the product and then insist on changing them, instead of valuing their normalcy, their flaws, and their brokenness? How many people will I see as replaceable, and how many will leave a hole that I won’t even realize the size of until they are gone?
What in society has caused us to think this way? Why can’t we [all just get along] all just accept the people in our lives for who they are – even when they don’t know who they are? Why play games and try to change everyone and then toss them aside when they aren’t meeting our standards?
Why not do the following: give them room for their bad moods, their stress, their hurt and pain? Why not treat them like they are the only one (because they are) and cherish that while we have it? Why not cherish each relationship at whatever stage it’s at – because some will grow, but some will disappear? Why not stop looking at everyone as use for our selfish gain, our play-thing, our person to create and mold and instead simply commit to relationships, even when they SUCK?
If we are Christians, isn’t that what we’re taught to do anyways (in kinder, gentler words and with scripture notation)?
Why not embrace the real and the limited and value it like we know we should?
Maybe no one else in society thinks this way, and I’m just engaging in the classical game of transference. But, maybe not.
**Yeah – THIS mindset drives me CRAAAZY: The Onion’s New Device, Old Device
Window Shopping October 28, 2009
I’m a pretty silly girl, most of the time. But when I get stressed out – boy do I get stressed out! Stressed to the point of almost insanity. Shopping is often one of my stress releasers, but seeing as how one of the things I’m trying to do is save some green, be it paper or digitally, shopping is out of the question.
In an effort to self-medicate, I indulged in some literal window shopping, and looked at ModCloth online. The following are things I’d be carrying around the digital store, trying to figure out places and times to wear them:
Fairy Godmother’s Favorite Gown
WHY be Cinderella when you can wear THIS and grant wishes??
It’s all the prettiness and none of the cleaning – and more importantly? None of the drama from the mama.
It’s frou-frouy and yet subtle and yet demands a pair of wings in that shame shade of blue.
What it really needs?
ME and a pair of black shoes – and a place to wear it!
This skirt SCREAMS:
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
The name of it is “styled to a T”
T for Tina…or Tyson. Either.
SIGH.
I need a ball….or a dance hall.
And dancing lessons.
And a man. I don’t think 3 cats and a dog will be accepted anywhere that this dress would be…
IF Camp Meeting were still the prominent “it’s-not-about-me-it’s-all-about-Him-but-LOOK-at-my-adorable-dress” church meeting that it used to be…
And IF I had a job that demanded that I dress like an adult…
And IF I lived in a bigger city and could wear this in normal everyday life, I would.
It’s black (it harkens to my “dark side”) and yet has a rainbow trim!! You know, the cute kind of rainbow trim that makes you look fun and like you can handle being around children but aren’t one playing “dress up” in mom’s closet.
AND…
Last but not least, THE dress of the century:
If you morphed my three kitties into one, this is pretty much what they would look like.
If I wore this dress I wouldn’t have to keep pulling out my cell to show strangers pictures of the kids – this way, you could see them AND me coming! Since they love to sit on my newly washed clothes, I could just leave this out (and earn myself the title of ‘best mom ever’) and wouldn’t bother lint rolling the cat hair off. I’d leave it for dramatic effect.
Anybody want to go shopping with me???
