Finding Him In Reflection

My sister-in-love forwarded an email that gave me pause. The email was from a journal company (my weakness, besides planners) speaking on reflection of 2018 and moving forward toward 2019. I typically stay away from all of the new year’s resolution hubbub because it does not seem genuine (IMHO). If change is what a person is really after, they will tackle it any time. Why wait for January 1? Due to how 2018 started off and ended, I plan on being a ginormous hypocrite and being a part of the hubbub. And I think I will start with the email.

I am far from a heathen, but I must admit, God and I have been distant lately. My fault entirely. I allowed a lot of the important parts of my wellness to get swallowed up by other things happening around me, and my relationship with Him was one. When all else fails in my life, faith is the one constant saving me every time. Today, it has faltered and I have no doubt it is because I moved farther away from the source. When I read the email, it painfully reminded me of how far I have wandered. But, thank God for His mercy and grace. Even if I have wandered far from Home, He continues to keep the light on…just for me.

In order to find my way back Home, I have got to stop going in the other direction. I can’t front and say I haven’t been hiding. More and more I have been cutting my circle closer and closer, allowing it to dwindle down to nothing. I have been ducking my head and being passive because parts of me preferred not to even deal. But if I am going to take this upcoming journey and if I am going to get better, I have to turn around and open my eyes. Nothing is ever as scary as the thought of something. The real thing might be hard and a little intimidating, but it is the thought of it being something more than it is that creates hysteria. Instead of playing the scary-thought loop in my head, I need to uncover my eyes, about-face and stare it down.

For the next nine days, I will take a look back at these past twelve months and reflect on the wins. The bad stuff is easy to point out, but there was good. There was great. The first order of business in shrinking the scary is measuring it up against the good. God is in it all, but for me, it is easier to see Him and understand Him in the good. So, I will be intentional when I look back and reflect. I will seek understanding. I will seek goodness and light. I will search for Him in it all.

I can’t say I will be a completely different person when I reach the other side, but I can say that I will be on my way. There is no magic pill to finding your way. There are no ruby slippers to click or fantasy tornadoes whirling about to carry me Home. There is only courage and dirty work, and, if I have nothing else, I know I have the courage to put in the dirty work.

~SM

Rule #1: Silence is #$%*ing Golden

I am a reactor. I react. Pure emotion. You cut me off in traffic, I wish I had a tank to crush you. You jump in front of me in line, I want to trip you on the way out. Temper temper. A lot of times I put my foot, the whole thing, in my mouth and wish I hadn’t. Did I say that? Did I mean that? Layer the foot with the daily guilt I feel about every little thing and sprinkle that with some anger glitter and you have got me. Mmmmm, delicious.

After some internal checks lately, I have come to realize silence is golden—especially coming from me. If I just shut up sometimes or if I just nod my head and smile maybe, just maybe, messes wouldn’t be made and I can walk on my feet instead of choking on them.

I am like the Hulk. I turn green and roar and smash. I do not give people any room to be human. Instead I shut it down lock it down and toss away the key….and then roar and smash stuff. I don’t think about the words being used until after the fact, and then I live days or weeks or months trying to clean up the mess. So, I’m vowing to shut up.

It has been a declaration of mine before, to shut up, but it lasted like three days and then I went back to running my mouth. I went back to over explaining, using too many words, and spewing things perhaps I should have just kept to myself. I let the Hulktress and all of her shitty emotions react for me instead of being a grown up and assessing the situation for what it is. I am pretty sure it will be difficult to keep it all in at first, but maybe I can channel all of that into something good like the great American novel I keep referencing but never seem to finish.

Emily Dickinson said it best, “Saying nothing sometimes says the most.” My voice does not need to literally be heard to be heard. I do not have to bounce anything off anyone. I do not need to fill up the air with words aplenty. I need to just hush, say nothing and let that be the voice that matters. Perhaps if I do, I can learn to take in the situation and think a little more critically, and eventually, I can stop chewing on my feet.

~SM

 

An Open Letter: Thank U, Next

I’m so #$%&ing grateful for your mess. Tis true, Ari didn’t quite say it like that, but that is how I carry it. It is the only way I can put you and your crap to bed. If I had things my way, I would be pushing you into angry bees nests and running my car through your front door, but thank goodness I cannot.

You have made what should have been sweet, bitter and rotten. Your nasty words managed to soak to the bone what should have been good and clean. You built a house with walls of sorrow and unworthiness and crammed in all of the innocence you could find, locking the door behind you. You single-handedly crushed love and replaced it with a great, unwavering disdain. As far as I can tell, you sir/madam are a monster only here for the amusement of everything ugly.

Believe it or not, I don’t hate you. Actually, as I stand here, talking to you, I feel sorry. I am sorry you are so clueless. Sorry, you will miss out on greatness (oh if you only knew). I am sorry you were used as a tool to tear open and poison. I am so, so sorry for you. I can see you wearing your unhappiness like a heavy coat, your head hanging low when no one is looking. I can see the lack of love like an open, festering sore. The secrecy of your lies weighing you down. The smell of the dead bodies you buried oozes from your pores and no matter how much you cover it with beautiful fabrics or flowery fragrances, you still smell it.

I am sorry you felt you were in the right. I am sorry you felt entitled. I am sorry you stumbled and fell. One too many ill-fated cards atop your house will make it all come tumbling down, sooner rather than later. And when it does, I will not have shelter to share. You will have to weather the storm alone.

I thank you for your mess. I thank you for allowing me to see you for who you really are. I thank you for allowing your mask to crack and the truth spill out, if only for a moment. I thank you for the words aplenty and the blame. I am grateful because, without you, there would be no me.

Isn’t it funny how that works? (C’mon. It won’t hurt. You can smile. It is funny.) You spend your days being wicked, and the end result is your misery, yet those who have had to bear the brunt of your abuse come out shiny and new.

I want to shake your hand. Yes, the one that stirs the pot housing your witches brew. I get to go off and be shiny (aren’t you excited for me). I get to be newer and greater and better than you will ever be. I get to witness the moments you only wish you could. I get to stand tall and pretend you don’t exist.

For that, my friend, I say Thank U…Next (wink).

~SM