Saturday, November 15, 2014
Jesus and I have been on a journey the past few years that I finally thought I should try to put into words. It wasn't until recently that I could look in the mirror and see an honest reflection. Much like a dear friend of mine, many parts of being a girl frustrated me. My hair never looked the way I wanted it too, I can't do my nails and 90% of the time putting on my make-up just sounds exhausting, especially because it never looks the way I want it to. On top of all of this I have to be very selective jewelry wise because I have a hard time with clasps. Some of my favorite pieces sit in my jewelry box because I can't put them on without help (or take them off for that matter).
While I am having this tell-all, I may as well say, I also don't fit the girl mold in the standard view of wife and motherhood. I don't cook (and the thought of trying to learn is in no way appealing). I Struggle with a Capital S with cleaning, and even though I love the way my house looks with candles I can't light a match.
But my "girl wounds" went (and sometimes still go) much deeper than that. Sometimes allowing my feminine heart to express itself is a battle because I am tired. I am tired of shaky hands, broken feet, and having to analyze each outfit on a 1-10 scale of "Do it yourselfness" that will tell me if it is a worthy purchase. But most of all, I am tired of lies.
Lies that once caused me to live in dysfunction.
I am tired of that little voice in my head that says I will never be "girly enough" because my hair is too short, my feet are hideous, and I have to hold on to someone or something 85% of the time I walk because my body is too tired to keep up with my heart. And down deep, hidden where I never want anyone to see is the worst whisper of all, "No man will ever want to put up with that." So, I get up every day already tired from the lies of the day before. I am tired of being fearful of wanting wife and motherhood because of all of the things I can't do.
Because looking in the mirror used to be nothing but pain at the thought that all I saw was ugly, I gave up on ever truly expressing who I saw.
But, lately, I just keep feeling like Jesus is introducing me to myself. And boy is it fun (and slightly scary). I am learning that it is safe to express being a girl. I am learning that the dysfunction I once lived in doesn't have to be my normal.
I am learning my new normal. My new normal is asking my mom to make longer jewelry out of the clasps I can't do. My new normal is glitter eyeshadow (which makes me feel girly no matter what). My new normal is leather pants and glitter tops, skirts and tutus and tights scarves and boots. My new normal is finding the "self" Jesus made me to express and figuring out the most creative way to do that. My new normal is being okay with shedding tears and mourning, but sitting in Jesus's arms while I do so.
My new normal is electric candles and Scentsys. It is taking breaks between cleaning to sit and "be" for a little bit. My new normal is changing Ellie's diaper, and reading Berkley stories, and remembering when she calls me "Mama" in her mind it may just be a game, but to me it is the Holy Spirit calling forth new identity.
My new normal is dreaming even in the fear.
My new normal can look in the mirror even on difficult days and remember that glitter is a choice.
My new normal is how it was supposed to be all along. My new normal is Jesus giving me the glitter He always wanted me to have. My new normal is living in His glorious presence.
My new normal is straight up glitter, even when it's dark.