Inspiration:
If you could arrange all the moments in my life in an art gallery, old hurts would be prominently displayed in a place of honor.
It's backwards, I know.
I'm not proud of this. It's embarrassing to admit, but it's true. There are some hurts that I still cling to because they allow me to be wounded, sullen, withdrawn, selfish and fearful. I use these old hurts as excuses when I don't want to pursue friendships, when I don't want to engage in life with others.
I'm sure others who have watched me cling to (and sometimes exalt) these old hurts have been stumped. Why would I choose to keep old hurts close?
I'm sure my therapist friends and wise people everywhere know the "actual answer", but I don't. This is just what I think:
I think I keep old hurts close and build impenetrable walls around me to prevent myself from being hurt or disappointed or betrayed again.
But living in fear is exhausting. And it's not the way God wants me to live.
So, this year, I'm cleaning house.
This year, I'm going to stop living in fear.
I'm going to stop declining invitations to hang out/celebrate/do life just because they're scary or inconvenient.
I'm going to stop automatically thinking that women are crazy. Most are perfectly good and kind and nice.
I'm going to stop thinking I can't change, because I can.
I'm going to remove the old hurts from their place of honor. I'm going to let them go so I can start living.
II.
I didn't understand the all-black painting, even after I read the artist's explanation. (Something to do with light, though it wasn't about light...) I think I might have pondered it more and tried to force myself to get it if I hadn't been with Mike and our friend, Brian. We all quickly agreed that we weren't smart enough to understand and fully appreciate modern art--at least not the art we saw in that wing--so we left.
I like to think that the man in the picture understood and appreciated the all-black painting, but I only say that because he looked "artsy" himself.
III.
Are there things/attitudes/habits that you cling to that aren't good for you? This is an extremely personal question so I don't expect you to respond, but if you do, here's my next question:
Are you going to do anything to help you let go of said not-good-thing?
I hope so.
Let go.
Live.
MOMA. San Francisco. January 3, 2012.
I.
If you could arrange all the moments in my life in an art gallery, old hurts would be prominently displayed in a place of honor.
It's backwards, I know.
I'm not proud of this. It's embarrassing to admit, but it's true. There are some hurts that I still cling to because they allow me to be wounded, sullen, withdrawn, selfish and fearful. I use these old hurts as excuses when I don't want to pursue friendships, when I don't want to engage in life with others.
I'm sure others who have watched me cling to (and sometimes exalt) these old hurts have been stumped. Why would I choose to keep old hurts close?
I'm sure my therapist friends and wise people everywhere know the "actual answer", but I don't. This is just what I think:
I think I keep old hurts close and build impenetrable walls around me to prevent myself from being hurt or disappointed or betrayed again.
But living in fear is exhausting. And it's not the way God wants me to live.
So, this year, I'm cleaning house.
This year, I'm going to stop living in fear.
I'm going to stop declining invitations to hang out/celebrate/do life just because they're scary or inconvenient.
I'm going to stop automatically thinking that women are crazy. Most are perfectly good and kind and nice.
I'm going to stop thinking I can't change, because I can.
I'm going to remove the old hurts from their place of honor. I'm going to let them go so I can start living.
II.
I didn't understand the all-black painting, even after I read the artist's explanation. (Something to do with light, though it wasn't about light...) I think I might have pondered it more and tried to force myself to get it if I hadn't been with Mike and our friend, Brian. We all quickly agreed that we weren't smart enough to understand and fully appreciate modern art--at least not the art we saw in that wing--so we left.
I like to think that the man in the picture understood and appreciated the all-black painting, but I only say that because he looked "artsy" himself.
III.
Are there things/attitudes/habits that you cling to that aren't good for you? This is an extremely personal question so I don't expect you to respond, but if you do, here's my next question:
Are you going to do anything to help you let go of said not-good-thing?
I hope so.
Let go.
Live.
You already know what I need to let go in 2012. The bitter, cantankerous, negative, crotchety, Nannette. I believe MY art gallery exhibition would have been huge canvases of my visage in different forms of negativity. But it's a new day, a new year, and already the new ME is emerging. P.S. about that black painting...double-u-t-f?!
ReplyDelete@Nannette: I've had the privilege of taking tours of your old art exhibition. A lot of things looked like the all-black painting. ;) Just kidding. Those pieces were tumultuous, complex, heart-breaking, and thought-provoking.
ReplyDeleteI'm really looking forward to seeing your new exhibition. It's going to be dynamic and beautiful!
P.S. I think I might've come to appreciate the all-black painting if I'd had a few hours to sit and ponder it. But maybe not. Maybe I'm just trying to be...positive?
I am horrible at unconditional acceptance. This leads to all kinds of things/attitudes/habits that aren't good for me. My internal parent tells me I am _____ {not good thing} because I behave _______ {not good way}. Sometimes my internal monologue takes after my internal parent and decides someone else is ______ {not good thing} because they behave ______ {not good way}, and so I treat them _______ {not good way}.
ReplyDeleteThis, as you can see, is not good.
To let go: I am telling my internal parent to kindly shut up. As an adult, I no longer need it, because it is not very helpful, and in fact, is mostly cruel. And my internal monologue is telling everyone {including/especially me}:
You are ok. You are fine.
Exactly as you are and no matter what you do, you are lovable. Because you are you. There, that's it. That's enough. Just be you.
Sometimes you will not be nice, and that's ok. Maybe you can fix it. Sometimes you will not be right, and that's ok. You are still smart and valuable and capable and wonderful. Because you are you.
When I am {hopefully someday} blessed to have tiny people come pass through my body, I am determined to teach them, even from the humble beginning in my belly, and on throughout the rest of their lives:
You are enough, you are inherently worthy, you are loved. Just because you are you.
And nothing {nothingnothingnothing} can ever change that.
I struggle with unconditional acceptance, too. I wonder if I'll ever get it right, or if I'll only understand it and get it right when God and I are talking about my life over coffee and pie.
DeleteYour internal parent sounds familiar. Probably because it sounds like me.
I learn a lot from you every time we chat. You, my friend, teach me so much about love and forgiveness and growth. You, dear Christiana, taught me that those are three separate nouns and verbs that exist separately from each other. They don't have to be mashed up and perfected right away! (I was relieved to discover that.)
Let me say this, please:
You are smart and valuable and capable and wonderful. You are lovely and worthy and beautiful and beloved.
Just as you are.
(Which, if you had any doubts, is a lot of awesome.)
Thank you for teaching me the truths that you will one day pass on to your tiny people. :) I will pass them along to mine, too.
<3,
Your far-away friend-from-the-past