I’m not one to admit defeat, quite – hmm – graciously, dare I say?
Optimistic? Wished for.
Loser? NEVER. (ok, maybe a bit)
I’ve had a lot of time to internally (and not always cognitively) process Fuller, life, my time with friends and family. And to be perfectly honest, while I certainly do not hate myself, I’m not quite happy. Maybe it’s because as a prototypical first-born child, I have to be right, best, and above the rest. I have always known how deeply dangerous my own expectations for others have been. I ignore the pressure it in turn places on me. These expectations quickly play into my fear of depth in and loss of friendship, and loss of relationship with men. If I can be disappointed in you, you can’t hurt me – and thus, the wall of self-deprecating dirt has mounted, beauty certainly not comparable to the Sistine Chapel.
When I left my church job in Indiana, I was told that one of my clear gifts was relational – I have watched that gift used in such positive and negative ways in my life since then that I dare not respond without an important dose of wisdom soon. Careful, but not too cautious. Safe, but not willing to push towards risk.
And in the midst of this bizarre experience of self-actualization that I’m still actualizing as I even write, I feel like a different person. Scratch that. I feel like a better person. I just have this general sense of something different lately. I feel more attuned to myself. More willing to fail. More willing to say no. Making a mistake sounds like breath of awkwardly beautiful fresh air. More willing to feel like someone could love me-really love me. I am a bit more quiet. I am more focused in my classes. I’m more secure in trusting in my future, despite the doubts as to how I could screw it up.
I guess that’s where a lot of this actualization stems. I’ve learned over time the ways in which I can mess things up, so the methodical dance of saving face has morphed into a march. To say I’ve stopped, righted the ship and have drawn a new course neglects the path itself; I have trusted the course ahead of me, but am walking on a bit more dry cement in the last few weeks.
Perhaps it was the good luck my friend on the plane wished me in Terminal 7 New Year’s Eve – maybe it was the large amounts of silence I endured during the Plague of ’08. Whatever brought this push forward, however, it has happened, and for whatever reasons , I’m thrilled to know that it’s joined me.
Yes, I wish certain relationships were different – I wish I hadn’t hurt friends as I deeply fear I have recently. (I’m sorry.) I wish I hadn’t hurt myself so much in the last year. (I’m sorry.) But these wishes – I guess I’m not blaming myself for them anymore for the had nots, did nots, or could nots. I’ve recognized that past, well, it is, and I need to go forward. I wish I could play a few 1000 mulligans from the last year or two, but let’s be honest, no matter how good or bad, I’ll always look back on the year behind with a keen eye on how things are no longer the same – I did when I was in 2nd grade, and the last 20 years have been no different.
What is all this rambling saying? Well, I think I’m saying that I’m a new sort of adventure this year – I’m looking forward to the ride, adventures, struggles, hurts, joys, celebrations. I look forward to the chance to apologize, to deepen friendships, to develop new friendships, and to figure out how to love myself again. I’m excited for where some of this processing may take me – and how I may choose to share it. And I’m excited to be okay with losing. But let’s be honest, how often is that going to happen! 😉 I kid, I kid.
too much – sam and ruby