I have grown up with a few insecurities. I go back and forth between feeling voluptuous like Marilyn Monroe to feeling like Miss Piggy is my doppelganger. haha. I wish I was taller, I wish I was in better shape. I wish I was kinder, I wish I didn't have Fred Flinstone feet. I wish I was good at math or a better instrumentalist. Despite feeling these things every once in awhile, but at the end of the day I love myself--not in a narcissistic way (usually haha), but in a healthy way. Strangely enough, it took being around people more often for me to realize it. I can be a little neurotic sometimes, but I didn't realize how many people cannot even take a compliment. So many people whom I admire: beautiful women, handsome guys, intelligent people, funny people, talented people--don't even have any idea how awesome they are; they are literally incapable of believing good things about themselves.
I wish I could really nip this shit in the bud. And sorry for your delicate sensibilities, but shit is what it is. Where to begin? Well first, to debunk what seems to be a common thread of thought amongst my peers: severe insecurity is not the same as humility. In fact, it is a sort of pride. I saw a Beth Moore quote once that said insecurity represents "self curved in on itself" and I think that's a great description. Obsessing over your faults to the point where you cannot believe the truth (that you are "fearfully and wonderfully made") is still a fixation on yourself, arguably just as transgressive as narcissism. Worse still is that when you talk about how fat, ugly, or useless you are, you sound like you're fishing for those very compliments that you apparently don't believe. Consequently, 90% of your friends will get sick of your whiny, Debbie Downer attitude. And they might even walk away because of it.
Next, I'd like to mention that the media is just full of crap. I don't mean how they've made you feel not good enough--it's your choice to decide whether you want to be one of their cookie-cutter clones or an original and if you make the wrong choice, I don't feel sorry for you. No, I'm talking about all those movies where the lame, sad-sack girls attract Prince Charming by being mopey and self-conscious. When I was in my younger teenage years, I took this "fairytale" to heart. I wallowed in the bad things I thought about myself and even went through an embarrassing emo phase (Avril Lavigne, safety pin earrings, and goofy clothes included; haha). You know what, though? NO GOOD GUY LIKES THAT. EVER. No good girl can stand it for too terribly long, either, for that matter. Trust me. It makes a person feel suffocated, helpless, and eventually nauseous when he or she is trying to keep his or her significant other afloat. You're not going to get swept off your feet and you're not endearing. People think you're psychotic when you're thin (especially when you're thinner than everyone else in the room) and yet call yourself fat. They think you're irritating when they're all laughing at your jokes and then you say "no way!" when they tell you how entertaining or interesting you are. It is neither intriguing nor attractive to hate yourself.
Last but not least, I've got to say that this behavior is way worse in Christians. Your belief system is built around a Creator. Read Psalm 139 for crying out loud. He made you the way you are: your gifts, your looks, your intelligence are all part of who He wanted you to be. So when I say: "You are beautiful/charming/hilarious" and you say "No I'm not, I suck," you're basically making a statement that a perfect God who lovingly knit you in the womb screwed up His creation. My best friend is an artist. If I looked at one of her masterpieces and said: "Wow, that's terrible," it would break her heart! Thankfully, I've never had to tell her I didn't like some of her art, because objectively it's awesome. But the point stands.
I know there's a lot of tough love in this entry. Maybe it even comes off as mean. But I assure you, it's just pent-up frustration about having a front-row seat to this extremely damaging behavior. You have to stop only believing lies and horrible things about yourself. It will steal your happiness and hurt the people who love you. You've got to let go. You've got to stop wallowing. And you've got to learn to see yourself through the Father's eyes. Oh, and if you all could stop trying to act like the cast of Twilight, that'd be awesome, too. haha. Come on, everyone. We're better than this.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Blog 36: Dreams and Divinations
Last night I had a frightening and thought-provoking dream. Usually I just have faceless action-movies in my head at night. I'm fighting, I'm being chased, I'm beating all the bad guys. They're pretty formulaic and therefore I often dismiss them as the "same old, same old." This one was completely different. A different kind of battle was going on all together. The intensity was such that when I awoke, I was frozen on my back with my palms extended. You'll see why.
There was a series of parties going on amongst my friends, happening in different places. I had been sort of making the rounds, but I was sort of an outsider to each one. The last was actually at a house much like my parents' and I knew it to be the one I would sleep in that night. It started out as not so much a party as a class. We were all set to do an activity but I had either previously completed it or didn't have the right materials. Everyone was sitting in a circle and I was on the outside of that circle doing something completely different. Once the assignment was finished, the teacher disappeared and it actually became a party. Everyone milled around talking. I knew all the people had been through a lot of problems, most of them struggles with drugs.
As it started to get late and the others began to head home, I sat there with three or four friends who would be staying in the house that night. One particular friend suggested we smoke something. Two looked down and I said: "We're not going to do that. Why do you want to do that all of a sudden?"
He replied: "I just can't spend the night downstairs sober." (He had been sleeping on a couch in the basement) "There are witches or ghosts or something in this house," he continued.
"I've felt that something was wrong here for a little while, but I guess it hasn't ever scared me because I know that they have no power over us. Come sleep in my room and they won't bother you."
He resisted for awhile, begging for some sort of mind-bending substance to put him out of the misery of fear. Eventually, he gave in, and we both went to sleep in my big bed. I awoke in the middle of the night to him, eyes wide open, hands reached over me as if to strike. He was frozen in this pose, and I placed my hands around his head and began to pray. He awoke, crying slightly, and apologizing. I spoke his name and then he was in some sort of trance.
I followed him down the hall, keeping my hands on him and trying to cast out or cast off the evil that held him. He got ahead and I chased, scurrying after. But it became difficult to do so, as my words were muffled. It was like I couldn't open my mouth completely. I could only speak for a few moments at a time before my jaw went stiff and then I'd be struggling to even get a word out. At this point, I think I almost woke myself up trying so hard to speak, but I snapped right back into the dream.
I felt stuck and ceased walking. He trudged ahead down the dark corridor. Then I prayed in tongues and he stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. Behind him was what looked like an open prison cell. Out of it walked a small boy who laughed at my outstretched hands and muffled words. I struck at him, commanded him to go, and continued to struggle against my sudden paralysis. He walked down a perpendicular hallway, too dark to see down, and said: "I'll get the others." At the end of that hallway were the bedrooms in which the other friends slept. I couldn't see them coming, but I suddenly imagined my friends striking at me in their trance. The first friend sat on a short ledge across from me, head down and arms limp like a shelved puppet. I looked at him and then stared into the dark. Then, I woke up.
I blinked awake and didn't feel scared as much as horribly grieved and stiff from being stuck in that position with my back flat, palms pressed outward but resting on my chest and stomach. I'm glad to be on vacation with my parents at the moment. I walked out into the living room to get their take on it. My dad of course was amazed that I was awake at such an early time when I didn't have to be. haha. When I finished relating the dream, he asked about my first friend in the dream, whose condition right now in the real world is questionable at best. Then he said that it meant that I need to be more prepared. A night may come when that friend is crying on my doorstep and I have to have been diligent enough in my walk with God to know what to do and how to embrace authority under Jesus Christ, the living God. Then he reminded me of a story in Acts 16:16-24 that stands hand-in-hand with my dream situation:
16 Now it happened, as we went to prayer, that a certain slave girl possessed with a spirit of divination met us, who brought her masters much profit by fortune-telling. 17 This girl followed Paul and us, and cried out, saying, “These men are the servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to us the way of salvation.” 18 And this she did for many days.
But Paul, greatly annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And he came out that very hour. 19 But when her masters saw that their hope of profit was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace to the authorities.
20 And they brought them to the magistrates, and said, “These men, being Jews, exceedingly trouble our city; 21 and they teach customs which are not lawful for us, being Romans, to receive or observe.” 22 Then the multitude rose up together against them; and the magistrates tore off their clothes and commanded them to be beaten with rods. 23 And when they had laid many stripes on them, they threw them into prison, commanding the jailer to keep them securely. 24 Having received such a charge, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks.
Paul knew that her words were just words. People can say all the right things and yet still be gripped inside with the bondage of darkness. As a lighter example, just look at how many Christians today are crippled by self-hatred and a penetrating stupidity that blocks out the truth that they were created beautiful by a loving Lord. That's a topic for another day, though. Another parallel with this story is that the "masters" of this possessed woman were benefiting from her disease. Those who enter the drug culture make themselves slaves to their dealers. And they don't ever want you to be free, because they make money off of your problems.
I will be praying for the friend who starred in the dream, because I think there is significance there, but I also took this dream as a sign that I've been slacking. And I'll admit, I have. If we do not practice with the Sword, we will not know how to wield it when the time comes.
There was a series of parties going on amongst my friends, happening in different places. I had been sort of making the rounds, but I was sort of an outsider to each one. The last was actually at a house much like my parents' and I knew it to be the one I would sleep in that night. It started out as not so much a party as a class. We were all set to do an activity but I had either previously completed it or didn't have the right materials. Everyone was sitting in a circle and I was on the outside of that circle doing something completely different. Once the assignment was finished, the teacher disappeared and it actually became a party. Everyone milled around talking. I knew all the people had been through a lot of problems, most of them struggles with drugs.
As it started to get late and the others began to head home, I sat there with three or four friends who would be staying in the house that night. One particular friend suggested we smoke something. Two looked down and I said: "We're not going to do that. Why do you want to do that all of a sudden?"
He replied: "I just can't spend the night downstairs sober." (He had been sleeping on a couch in the basement) "There are witches or ghosts or something in this house," he continued.
"I've felt that something was wrong here for a little while, but I guess it hasn't ever scared me because I know that they have no power over us. Come sleep in my room and they won't bother you."
He resisted for awhile, begging for some sort of mind-bending substance to put him out of the misery of fear. Eventually, he gave in, and we both went to sleep in my big bed. I awoke in the middle of the night to him, eyes wide open, hands reached over me as if to strike. He was frozen in this pose, and I placed my hands around his head and began to pray. He awoke, crying slightly, and apologizing. I spoke his name and then he was in some sort of trance.
I followed him down the hall, keeping my hands on him and trying to cast out or cast off the evil that held him. He got ahead and I chased, scurrying after. But it became difficult to do so, as my words were muffled. It was like I couldn't open my mouth completely. I could only speak for a few moments at a time before my jaw went stiff and then I'd be struggling to even get a word out. At this point, I think I almost woke myself up trying so hard to speak, but I snapped right back into the dream.
I felt stuck and ceased walking. He trudged ahead down the dark corridor. Then I prayed in tongues and he stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. Behind him was what looked like an open prison cell. Out of it walked a small boy who laughed at my outstretched hands and muffled words. I struck at him, commanded him to go, and continued to struggle against my sudden paralysis. He walked down a perpendicular hallway, too dark to see down, and said: "I'll get the others." At the end of that hallway were the bedrooms in which the other friends slept. I couldn't see them coming, but I suddenly imagined my friends striking at me in their trance. The first friend sat on a short ledge across from me, head down and arms limp like a shelved puppet. I looked at him and then stared into the dark. Then, I woke up.
I blinked awake and didn't feel scared as much as horribly grieved and stiff from being stuck in that position with my back flat, palms pressed outward but resting on my chest and stomach. I'm glad to be on vacation with my parents at the moment. I walked out into the living room to get their take on it. My dad of course was amazed that I was awake at such an early time when I didn't have to be. haha. When I finished relating the dream, he asked about my first friend in the dream, whose condition right now in the real world is questionable at best. Then he said that it meant that I need to be more prepared. A night may come when that friend is crying on my doorstep and I have to have been diligent enough in my walk with God to know what to do and how to embrace authority under Jesus Christ, the living God. Then he reminded me of a story in Acts 16:16-24 that stands hand-in-hand with my dream situation:
16 Now it happened, as we went to prayer, that a certain slave girl possessed with a spirit of divination met us, who brought her masters much profit by fortune-telling. 17 This girl followed Paul and us, and cried out, saying, “These men are the servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to us the way of salvation.” 18 And this she did for many days.
But Paul, greatly annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And he came out that very hour. 19 But when her masters saw that their hope of profit was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace to the authorities.
20 And they brought them to the magistrates, and said, “These men, being Jews, exceedingly trouble our city; 21 and they teach customs which are not lawful for us, being Romans, to receive or observe.” 22 Then the multitude rose up together against them; and the magistrates tore off their clothes and commanded them to be beaten with rods. 23 And when they had laid many stripes on them, they threw them into prison, commanding the jailer to keep them securely. 24 Having received such a charge, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks.
Paul knew that her words were just words. People can say all the right things and yet still be gripped inside with the bondage of darkness. As a lighter example, just look at how many Christians today are crippled by self-hatred and a penetrating stupidity that blocks out the truth that they were created beautiful by a loving Lord. That's a topic for another day, though. Another parallel with this story is that the "masters" of this possessed woman were benefiting from her disease. Those who enter the drug culture make themselves slaves to their dealers. And they don't ever want you to be free, because they make money off of your problems.
I will be praying for the friend who starred in the dream, because I think there is significance there, but I also took this dream as a sign that I've been slacking. And I'll admit, I have. If we do not practice with the Sword, we will not know how to wield it when the time comes.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Blog 35: Twenty-One Guns, A Premature Midlife Crisis
Contrary to any notions you may have picked up from the title, this entry is not about a Green Day song. I actually really don't like them. However, it IS about feeling like I've had twenty-one guns pointed at my head since I turned 21 Friday. I know I'm being dramatic. People have so many more things to worry about than I do, and believe me, I'm not delusional about how "tough" things are in my lower middle class life. I just feel like a lot of things are changing lately. I'm feeling the pressure to improve exponentially--and rapidly. I'm feeling like I have to definitively decide what it is I want to do with the rest of my entire life. As insane as it sounds, I'm suddenly feeling that I've already missed too many chances and am already past my prime for accomplishing anything great. I'm feeling like I am playing 'catch-up' on life pretty much every day. Who am I, really? Have I done anything of value? Do I inspire anyone? I feel like the answers to my questions are negative. Don't get me wrong. I'm usually confident. I know my talents and some of my good qualities, but the past few days have inexplicably ushered in some sort of panic.
For example, I love music and writing. I know that I am gifted in both. But other than practicing and scribbling away, I don't know how to even begin to pursue either end. I don't even know what exactly I want to accomplish in either category. People have been telling me for years that I will do great things. I've heard prophesies and praises, expectations and hopes from teachers, pastors, and even strangers regarding who it is that I will become. I've felt it whilst grazing the outskirts of everyone else's social circles. I've needed to have faith in it because it made being an outsider worth it. What no one ever tells you is how to get "there," or for that matter, where "there" even is! Crap. I think I sound as manic as I feel, here. Rereading the past two paragraphs is stressing me out. haha. Deep breaths...
All right. Now, another thing that has got me feeling so overwhelmed is a renewed sense of responsibility. For five or six years, I was a hardcore leader. I was strict. I was a goody-two shoes. I was always super careful about being the perfect example to everyone. I lead worship, I lead small groups, I was a counselor at teen camp, I worked and went to school full time. And then something happened: I dropped all of my spinning plates.
Let me be terrifyingly honest. I got my heart broken and saw my plans destroyed. So, slowly, I gave into a lot of things I had so dutifully avoided. I drank too much. I messed around and lied. I stayed out all night in less-than-wholesome scenes. I broke hearts and I was selfish. I made some bad financial decisions and I was embarrassingly immodest. Once I started to come out of all of these horrible habits, I went into this self-imposed exile. I had to work every chance I got, so I didn't have time for leading worship or having a band. I didn't have the money to be a camp counselor (if they would've even wanted me anyway). I withdrew from all involvement in anything, really. I let others have responsibility because I was honestly exhausted from all those years of straining to keep myself on that impossibly-high pedestal. I just--gave up. It was a lot easier to just shrug everything off and do my own thing.
This summer, however, a few things happened to begin a change. For one, I got involved with a Bible study. It was slow-going at first. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go or that my presence was desired. But I felt so hungry to discuss the Word and to make sense of the knowledge I have in theology, that I began to really enjoy it. I've made some friends in that study and at work who encourage me to seek out that old version of myself again. It has been painful, honestly, to care. When you care about being a good person, you regret your mistakes. I can't take back my carelessness and dissoluteness. I can't be as innocent as I once was. I can, however, strive to reclaim a righteous stand and simultaneously have more grace and compassion than the straight-laced Haylee ever did. I can be kinder, work harder, and think more about how my actions will affect others.
I've had a lot of situations put in my path lately that seem to indicate that my long-suffering Father is fairly sick and tired of me trying to fade into the background. He's telling me that I have to lead. He's commanding me to share my experiences and open my heart to other people's struggles, showing compassion and giving what I can to help. I feel this huge sense of responsibility again and frankly, I've been resisting it. It's difficult to have people looking up to you. I want to be worthy of it again. I know I can't do everything, but I want to fix everyone's problems. I want to help my friends and family emotionally, financially, and physically. I want to be proactive about it. Sympathy isn't enough when people are hurting--they need action! I'm excited to become better, but I tend to be so very dramatic that I overwhelm myself with wanting the impossible. One of my favorite songs, "The Color Theft" by Oh, Sleeper, says: "What keeps this family of fighters from facing the war that they were bred for?" I've been running from the battle for far too long. I'm ready to be a warrior again, but to tell you the truth, it is scary as hell.
I know this was a long blog, and I'm sorry for that, but it's just like a pre-midlife crisis! While I know I'm being ridiculous, I feel like I'm just running out of time. There's so much that needs doing--and I want to do it all.
For example, I love music and writing. I know that I am gifted in both. But other than practicing and scribbling away, I don't know how to even begin to pursue either end. I don't even know what exactly I want to accomplish in either category. People have been telling me for years that I will do great things. I've heard prophesies and praises, expectations and hopes from teachers, pastors, and even strangers regarding who it is that I will become. I've felt it whilst grazing the outskirts of everyone else's social circles. I've needed to have faith in it because it made being an outsider worth it. What no one ever tells you is how to get "there," or for that matter, where "there" even is! Crap. I think I sound as manic as I feel, here. Rereading the past two paragraphs is stressing me out. haha. Deep breaths...
All right. Now, another thing that has got me feeling so overwhelmed is a renewed sense of responsibility. For five or six years, I was a hardcore leader. I was strict. I was a goody-two shoes. I was always super careful about being the perfect example to everyone. I lead worship, I lead small groups, I was a counselor at teen camp, I worked and went to school full time. And then something happened: I dropped all of my spinning plates.
Let me be terrifyingly honest. I got my heart broken and saw my plans destroyed. So, slowly, I gave into a lot of things I had so dutifully avoided. I drank too much. I messed around and lied. I stayed out all night in less-than-wholesome scenes. I broke hearts and I was selfish. I made some bad financial decisions and I was embarrassingly immodest. Once I started to come out of all of these horrible habits, I went into this self-imposed exile. I had to work every chance I got, so I didn't have time for leading worship or having a band. I didn't have the money to be a camp counselor (if they would've even wanted me anyway). I withdrew from all involvement in anything, really. I let others have responsibility because I was honestly exhausted from all those years of straining to keep myself on that impossibly-high pedestal. I just--gave up. It was a lot easier to just shrug everything off and do my own thing.
This summer, however, a few things happened to begin a change. For one, I got involved with a Bible study. It was slow-going at first. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go or that my presence was desired. But I felt so hungry to discuss the Word and to make sense of the knowledge I have in theology, that I began to really enjoy it. I've made some friends in that study and at work who encourage me to seek out that old version of myself again. It has been painful, honestly, to care. When you care about being a good person, you regret your mistakes. I can't take back my carelessness and dissoluteness. I can't be as innocent as I once was. I can, however, strive to reclaim a righteous stand and simultaneously have more grace and compassion than the straight-laced Haylee ever did. I can be kinder, work harder, and think more about how my actions will affect others.
I've had a lot of situations put in my path lately that seem to indicate that my long-suffering Father is fairly sick and tired of me trying to fade into the background. He's telling me that I have to lead. He's commanding me to share my experiences and open my heart to other people's struggles, showing compassion and giving what I can to help. I feel this huge sense of responsibility again and frankly, I've been resisting it. It's difficult to have people looking up to you. I want to be worthy of it again. I know I can't do everything, but I want to fix everyone's problems. I want to help my friends and family emotionally, financially, and physically. I want to be proactive about it. Sympathy isn't enough when people are hurting--they need action! I'm excited to become better, but I tend to be so very dramatic that I overwhelm myself with wanting the impossible. One of my favorite songs, "The Color Theft" by Oh, Sleeper, says: "What keeps this family of fighters from facing the war that they were bred for?" I've been running from the battle for far too long. I'm ready to be a warrior again, but to tell you the truth, it is scary as hell.
I know this was a long blog, and I'm sorry for that, but it's just like a pre-midlife crisis! While I know I'm being ridiculous, I feel like I'm just running out of time. There's so much that needs doing--and I want to do it all.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Blog 34: A Question of Romance
I am currently seated in a cushy corner chair at my Starbucks. A younger guy friend of mine is here across the room and has taken to meddling in my lack of love life. You see, a "Crownie" (as we call Crown College students) has seated himself in the chair directly across from me. He looks like a rich kid, which is always good. However, he also appears to be a grumpalumpagus. My young friend, however, has taken to texting advice that I should "talk to that cutie." haha. I took a moment to think: "Should I be insulted or amused?" I chose to be amused.
Everyone is always saying "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" or even "You need to get a man!" And while I don't think it is a need per se, I think about the subject sometimes. People think it's odd that I've dated as little as I have, but I guess it's not something I've made a priority. I really do enjoy dating, but I don't go hunting for it. I am not a fan of being on the aggressive end of it. If a guy is too lazy to let me know how he feels, he's too lazy to be of interest to me. And so, I've learned that I may very well be single for the rest of my life. For some reason, to do so is basically the path to becoming a social pariah in the Christian world. Why is that? There must be something wrong with a husband-less lady after a certain age! Um...nope. Such thinking causes so many girls to drastically drop their standards and end up with ambitionless, selfish boys instead of men. It seems a fate worth than death. haha.
When I ponder it, I don't feel so much a pang of loneliness as a somewhat-distressing, bland neutrality. I remember even in less-serious relationships that I liked feeling that a song applied to the romance. I feel somewhat less passionate whilst listening to some of my favorite music these days. You see, I like to identify with art. For example, Whitteny and I do this thing (which apparently annoys some people) where we say "You're this character and I'm that character" when we're watching tv shows or movies. It makes you feel you've really lived or you're someone special if a writer creates a fictional character who has your qualities. Also, as Mr. Bennett says in Pride and Prejudice, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and again. It gives her a sense of distinction from her companions. For a year or two, I coveted the dramatic exhilaration that romance brings so strongly that I used very little discretion in who it had to be with. I often live in a dream world. More than one person has said that in some cases I tend to see things through rose-colored glasses. Everything is more important, more beautiful, more exciting than it is in real life, because that is how I need it to be. I need theatrics. I need joy and I need pain. Consequently I have more than once had those "what in the world was I thinking??" revelations. I think the reason that I gave up that carelessness is that I only want to spend that much time and emotion on a person if I really like him and he really likes me. Novel idea, right?
So, for all of you who have wondered just what the hell is wrong with me, it's a set of standards (which, incidentally, is not wrong in the slightest). Do I let boredom and a yearning for "romance"drag me into familiarity with people I will surely wish to be rid of? Do I let convention compel me to throw myself at every available Christian male? Uh...no. I'm not out having immoral affairs or secretly dating some sort of gangster or justifiably becoming the butt of softball jokes or anything like that. I'm just living my life and letting my passion leak into other areas of it--like writing or trying desperately to be a kinder and more hard-working person or even just trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.
If a man comes along who loves the Lord, doesn't need me to follow him around like a lost puppy, and who cares enough to boldly and respectfully pursue me, I would be a fool to turn him down. I have my daydreams and my hopes like any other silly girl. The difference is I know I don't need that to complete me. I just want my friends to see that, as well, for themselves. We can do so much and find such great fulfillment if we will just step outside of ourselves and expectations we held in the past. Believe it or not, if you had asked me a few years ago what I thought my life would look like, it would've included marrying early. I think that God's plan for all of us is so much bigger than to focus on just that one aspect of our lives, though. I urge you, do not put your life on hold until "the one" comes along. The cost is dear. Lastly, I ask that those of you who are single maintain both high standards and an incontrovertible sense of humor about your love life. It is one of my favorite things to joke about, honestly. Enjoy your friends! They're probably more apt to put up with your crazy, anyway.
Everyone is always saying "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" or even "You need to get a man!" And while I don't think it is a need per se, I think about the subject sometimes. People think it's odd that I've dated as little as I have, but I guess it's not something I've made a priority. I really do enjoy dating, but I don't go hunting for it. I am not a fan of being on the aggressive end of it. If a guy is too lazy to let me know how he feels, he's too lazy to be of interest to me. And so, I've learned that I may very well be single for the rest of my life. For some reason, to do so is basically the path to becoming a social pariah in the Christian world. Why is that? There must be something wrong with a husband-less lady after a certain age! Um...nope. Such thinking causes so many girls to drastically drop their standards and end up with ambitionless, selfish boys instead of men. It seems a fate worth than death. haha.
When I ponder it, I don't feel so much a pang of loneliness as a somewhat-distressing, bland neutrality. I remember even in less-serious relationships that I liked feeling that a song applied to the romance. I feel somewhat less passionate whilst listening to some of my favorite music these days. You see, I like to identify with art. For example, Whitteny and I do this thing (which apparently annoys some people) where we say "You're this character and I'm that character" when we're watching tv shows or movies. It makes you feel you've really lived or you're someone special if a writer creates a fictional character who has your qualities. Also, as Mr. Bennett says in Pride and Prejudice, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and again. It gives her a sense of distinction from her companions. For a year or two, I coveted the dramatic exhilaration that romance brings so strongly that I used very little discretion in who it had to be with. I often live in a dream world. More than one person has said that in some cases I tend to see things through rose-colored glasses. Everything is more important, more beautiful, more exciting than it is in real life, because that is how I need it to be. I need theatrics. I need joy and I need pain. Consequently I have more than once had those "what in the world was I thinking??" revelations. I think the reason that I gave up that carelessness is that I only want to spend that much time and emotion on a person if I really like him and he really likes me. Novel idea, right?
So, for all of you who have wondered just what the hell is wrong with me, it's a set of standards (which, incidentally, is not wrong in the slightest). Do I let boredom and a yearning for "romance"drag me into familiarity with people I will surely wish to be rid of? Do I let convention compel me to throw myself at every available Christian male? Uh...no. I'm not out having immoral affairs or secretly dating some sort of gangster or justifiably becoming the butt of softball jokes or anything like that. I'm just living my life and letting my passion leak into other areas of it--like writing or trying desperately to be a kinder and more hard-working person or even just trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.
If a man comes along who loves the Lord, doesn't need me to follow him around like a lost puppy, and who cares enough to boldly and respectfully pursue me, I would be a fool to turn him down. I have my daydreams and my hopes like any other silly girl. The difference is I know I don't need that to complete me. I just want my friends to see that, as well, for themselves. We can do so much and find such great fulfillment if we will just step outside of ourselves and expectations we held in the past. Believe it or not, if you had asked me a few years ago what I thought my life would look like, it would've included marrying early. I think that God's plan for all of us is so much bigger than to focus on just that one aspect of our lives, though. I urge you, do not put your life on hold until "the one" comes along. The cost is dear. Lastly, I ask that those of you who are single maintain both high standards and an incontrovertible sense of humor about your love life. It is one of my favorite things to joke about, honestly. Enjoy your friends! They're probably more apt to put up with your crazy, anyway.
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