Whilst perusing my growing list of blog subscriptions the other day, I came upon a post idea that inspired me to start thinking about how well I really know me.
If you really knew me...
You'd know that I hate, hate, HATE E.T. The thought of some wrinkly, non-human creature popping up in my toy-closet scares the dickens out of me. I don't care if you think he's cute or if he has Reese's Pieces.
You'd know that I have real commitment issues, but that I'm also really impulsive. For example, I realize that homey has really let herself go... So, I go buy $150 DVD exercise program, do it for a week, and never turn it on again.
You'd know that I really struggle with anxiety and insecurity. This stems from my diabetes and feeling like I don't have control of my body or the world around me. For this reason, I'm really big proponent of counseling/therapy. I've seen a counselor/therapist/friend for 3 years now, and it is so wonderful to be able to trust your thoughts, feelings, and past with someone who is so vested in your healing. Seeing a counselor doesn't mean that my faith isn't strong enough, or I don't pray hard enough or I'm not listening to God's voice hard enough. It means that I'm choosing to confide in someone who isn't directly involved in my family or other relationships I don't know if this crosses some sort of boundary, but he will always be one of my truest and dearest friends.
You'd know that I'm not a very picky eater, but I CANNOT eat Ravioli (the cheese-filled kind). Don't even try. I'll vom.
You'd know that I believe that Jesus died so that I would not have to fear death, or carry the guilt of my sin, and so that I can have a real, honest friendship with Him. But I still wrestle with my faith and the essence and personality of God every single day. I wonder why he allowed me to get diabetes, my Pop-pop to pass away unexpectedly at a young age, and why beautiful, faithful, loving African children must go without parents and food and education when they love Him so much. Maybe I'm not supposed to know why, but I still lay awake at night and wonder.
You'd know that I also believe that God calls us to LOVE one another. No. Matter. What. I don't care who you want to marry, who you want to vote for, what you've done. Who are we to judge each other? Along the same lines, I believe that God wants us to love ourselves the way He love us. Maybe I'm being defensive, but it makes me really sad when Christians continue to identify themselves as "sinners" and "wretched." No. You are loved and adored and cherished. No. Matter. What.
You'd know that I still have no idea what my career is supposed to be and that I had no idea what my career was supposed to be when I picked my college major at 17 years old. How in the world are you supposed to know how you're supposed to contribute to the world at an age when you hardly know yourself? I've spent 4+ years figuring out what I don't want to do, and have yet to figure out what I do want. With that said, I'm thankful and blessed for the learning experiences that God has provided so far.
If you really knew me, you'd know that I find so much solace in writing, but I can't bring myself to do it enough. In times of stress or depletion, I'm much more drawn to the distraction of a really good film or funny TV show, than to sit down and work through my feelings with pencil and paper.
You'd know that my deepest regret is not taking dance seriously. I LOVE to dance. One of my proudest memories is dancing with one of my dearest friends, Ali, at a high school dance, whereby a group of basketball players stood around the proverbial dance circle and said, "Those be some FUNKY white girls!" I'll toot my own horn and say that I have no problem feeling out a beat, but I've never been able to pick up an 8-count after seeing it once like the girls who've been dancing since they were four. Oh, how I wish I could...
|Photo by Nicola Herring Photography|
You'd know that nothing makes me happier than laughing and being goofy (a.k.a completely myself) with my husband.
You'd know that I'm probably going to obsess over all the other things I should have written in this post. Maybe this kind of thing can come in installments. This ongoing discovery or rediscovery of what's really going on inside of this heart of mine.