Don't Read This Post

You rebel.

There is something to be said about this time of year.

Christmas. The season of joy. Of giving. Of love.

We get to bake amazing treats, shop for presents for family and friends, decorate our houses with lights and snowmen and nativity scenes. We wear ugly sweaters and santa hats and sing songs about snow. We watch Elf over and over, carry on family traditions, and prepare for a new year.

It's a magical time.

It has always been a particularly hard time for me. I feel like I'm beating a dead horse every time I talk about being single but I want to preface this by saying two things:

1. Please don't try to tell me that I will find someone in time. That a relationship will happen for me and just hold on for the right guy and blah blah blah I just threw up. I have been told that since I was 15 years old...and quite frankly, it makes me feel like a failure as a woman. When I'm told that I just need to be patient and wait...it makes me angry--hateful even. It is NOT a comforting thing to say to a single woman in her mid 20s. It just isn't. Try something along the lines of: Well at least there is Starbucks. Or: Good thing you have Netflix to keep you company!

2. This post is NOT a pity party for me. Nor should it be read as a pity party for anyone else. I have something to say to my married friends. And they need to hear it from someone who is single.

Ready?

I spend my time alone. I go to work, either at school teaching some pretty cool kids; or nannying for my boys...and then I come home and that's about it. My best friend drags me out with her every so often and she only gets away with it because she is my sister. If I didn't live with my parents. I probably wouldn't speak to a single person from after school Friday until Monday morning. I have wrapped myself in this cushion of solitude and there are only a few people who have dared to worm their way in during the course of my life. It's 9pm on a Saturday night and while my friends are off getting engaged...I am sitting silent in the dark with only the light of my Christmas tree. This is my reality.

Did you ever stop to think that there are people who have never heard someone tell them that they love them? I'm not talking about a parent, a sibling, or a friend...but a lover, a partner, a "significant other" if you will. Married, engaged, dating, loved friends of mine, you are lucky to have experienced something I have not. I have never heard the words "I love you" come from someone that I have loved. I have heard it a thousand times from my family and my closest friends, so do not think me deprived of love. I know how loved I am. I know the rivers of love that wash over me. But there is a piece missing in my life, and it's always around Christmas that it burns the most. The ache is almost unbearable, the sorrow fills every part of my soul. It's the absence of something I've never even had.

How can one miss something they've never had?

But you, dear friend, the one reading this who is married, engaged, or in a relationship....you've heard that simple phrase before. You've experienced what it means to be loved, to be chosen, to be wanted. You have a gift that men have fought and died for. They write songs about it, tales are told, novels and movies explode with stories of love. And you have it.

And I watch you waste it. You take it for granted because it's normal for you. Fighting, bickering, and arguments are commonplace. Friend after friend comes to me to tell me their marriage woes and it shatters my soul.

Oh loved one, do you not see? Do you not realize? So many of us long for a taste of what you have, a fraction of that emotion. To be wanted, desired, chosen, adored...oh loved one, wake up!

I want to call you to action this Christmas. Stop what you are doing and tell your spouse (or fiance/e, boy/girlfriend, or whatever) right now. Tell them you love them. Tell them that you still choose them. That you adore them and are so glad that they chose you too.

This is the season of joy, of giving, of love. Let's not waste it.

And if you are single like I am...don't worry. There is always Starbucks.

So Write...

My best friend sent me a text last night. It was really simple, but it was exactly what I needed to hear. She said to me, "So write."  Let me back up...

For the past few months I have wanted to do something that would truly be detrimental to myself. It would ruin my life in a lot of ways and even though I realize this, that fact hasn't stopped me from wanting to do this unnamed thing. (No, I am not going to tell you what this thing is. It's just not going to happen.)

 I have been talking to her about this thing I have wanted to do, and she--being a woman of wisdom and insight--has advised me against doing this thing. She consistently reminds me to avoid the thing I wanted to do, pulling me back into the reality of the situation, guiding me back into joy and lifting me out of despair. She has been a source of light in this dark part of my world and for the past few weeks during the midst of my crisis she was a constant source of truth. Her texts to me said things like:

You are good enough. 

You are too hard on yourself.

You are going to be okay.

Give it time.

Wait for it. Stop chasing it so hard.

Take it one step at a time, and everything will fall into place. Don't rush it.

This past week I was at the point where I had mentally made the decision to go ahead and do the thing I wasn't supposed to do, the thing that my best friend advised me against, the thing that would probably ruin my life. But before I did, I remembered my best friend. And the things she has been saying to me. And I stopped myself. I walked away from the situation and I called my best friend. I left her a voicemail saying that this toxic, poisonous thing that we had been talking about for months was over. Maybe it's not over forever, but for now, it's over. She text me back.

I am so proud of you.

Thanks. I feel empty now. Such is life I guess.

I sent the reply and carried on with my evening. She didn't respond for a few hours. Maybe she was busy, maybe she was giving me time. I don't know, but I'm glad for the delay in response. It was 10:30pm and I was just settling into bed for the night. My phone went off and when I read those two words I knew that this was a person who knows me. 

So write.

That's exactly what I plan to do. My best writing comes when I'm empty. And through the chaos of everything happening in my job right now, I do feel empty. And this is the time to be writing. Thank you, best friend, for reminding me where my heart lies and how to fill the emptiness again. It's in filling a blank page with words. That's how I cure the emptiness in my soul, the desire to ruin my life by making stupid choices, and take the edge of the anxiety of my job. All it took was my best friend to text me something so simple to remind me of my path in life. 

I don't know what you need to hear. I don't know what you are struggling with, fighting for, pushing against, or denying in your life. Maybe you are in the same boat as I am. You want something you know you shouldn't want, and you need to make a choice. Maybe you don't have anyone encouraging you, or maybe you just aren't listening. That's okay. I just want to tell you to listen to the rational part of yourself. Run to the people who know you, who love you, who are going to tell you the truth--not the people who are going to tell you what you want to hear. Follow the advice given to you--even though it is painful, hard, and unfair--so you can be free. So you can live apart from the desire of the thing you should-not-want-but-you-want-anyway. So you can begin to redefine who you are apart from that thing. And then actually BE apart from that thing. Maybe you don't know how to live without that struggle in your life. I get that. 

So write.

When It Is One Of Those Days...

Have you ever had one of those days where everything seems to go the opposite of how you wanted and expected it to go?

You get angry emails. You run out of time. You fail to communicate properly. You lose patience. You aren't very kind. You are starving for lunch and then by the time you get to eat you feel sick for hours afterwards. You say stupid things in front of your boss. You can't hide your inexperience anymore. Everyone can tell you are overwhelmed. Everyone knows you are in over your head. You are not doing a very good job---at hiding it, at faking it, at anything really. You embarrass yourself in front of the people you are trying to impress. You wore the wrong outfit. You choked on your snack. You can't answer anyone's questions...even though they are the same questions from last week. You still don't have the answers, you still don't have the results, you still don't know what you are doing.

You drive home, and you think---WHAT AM I DOING?

I should quit. I should pack a bag, move to Colorado, change my name, and never come back. I should crash my car. I should just keep driving. I should go home, get my dog, and drive to Canada. 

The rock in the pit of your stomach doesn't go away, the anxiety builds, you try not to cry, try not to blow up at your family. You try to pretend everything is fine. It's okay. Just watch TV, take a bath, write a blog post. You fight through the waves of sadness, the waves of panic, the familiar pull of despair that you've fought for so many many years. You talk yourself in and out of doing insane things, like chopping off all your hair, or branding your skin with hot metal just because you can. You realize that you are being insane and so you lay on your bed and stare at the clock.

The numbers flip. Fours turn to fives. A six to a seven. The red lines start to blur as your eyes cross. Is it a respectable time to try and go to sleep? 10pm. You decide to read your favorite book and forget about this awful day. You slip into the world of make believe and allow the real world to start to fade away. You fall asleep, wrapped tightly in your blankets, tension filled and anxiety ridden. And even though you are still alone, still a failure in your own eyes, and all the things of the day are still true, you have a chance for peaceful dreams. And when you wake up, it will be a new day.

When it is one of those days, sometimes all you can do is hold out for tomorrow.

Cha...Cha...Cha...Changes

I've gone through some huge changes the past three months.

• I am no longer a nanny. It was the hardest decision I've ever made. I miss my kids, but I still get to see one family once a week so that is really great.

• I teach Drama at my alma mater, CLS, and with that comes directing a play and a musical. It is the most overwhelmed I have ever felt and every day I question my choice to take the job until I'm with my students. They are the 35 best kids I could have hoped to teach, and I am loving teaching them and seeing them tap into the potential they have been holding inside for years. 

• I have my dream car, a 2006 Jeep Liberty Limited. Her name is Huckleberry Quinn and she is legit. 

Some things haven't changed. 

I still live at home. I still spend all my time with my puppy, Duffy--mostly because he is the only one around/that wants to spend every waking moment with me (although to be fair, he wants to spend time licking up my nose and in my mouth...so maybe not true love?) and I'm okay with being with my Duffster all the time. I am still glaringly single, still racked with insecurity and self doubt (always great qualities when starting a new job that is overwhelming, by the way...), and still fighting waves of depression as often as the clouds go by.

Life is both drastically different and painfully the same. It's a weird place to be.

I find myself sleepless at night, always thinking of things I need to do, anxious about how I can possibly get things done, and worried about being the right person for the job. I'd like to now type an uplifting paragraph where I realized that God put me where I am and of course I can handle everything and obviously I'm loved and enough and worth it...but I'm just not there yet.

I'm not at a place where I can honestly say that I can handle it all.

I can't say I feel loved, or enough as I am, or even worth loving.

I feel like I'm not only going to fail, but constantly letting everyone's expectations down. I have these shoes to fill that are placed on this unattainable pedestal and there is just no way to compete.

So I'm not going to.

I am okay with failing. I am okay with not being good enough. I am okay with never being loved like the fairy tales or how I see my friends being loved. If I screw up royally at this job and everyone hates me, well...bummer.

What I AM going to do is this: I am going to put on two kick ass shows. I am going to teach these kids everything I know, the best way I know, and I will not pretend that I'm someone I am not.

I am me, I am not perfect, and I have a job to do. Enjoy the show.

Carry on, Wayward Son.

It's an interesting phenomenon being at this stage in my life.

I feel torn between these two very powerful and very loud contradicting inner voices and I find myself swinging like a pendulum back and forth depending on the moment.

One voice tells me that I am a colossal failure. I have royally screwed up figuring out my life, who I am, who I want to be, what I am going to "do" for the rest of my life, and getting my-ahem-shit together. The voice tells me that I wasted my time in college doing things like being on student government and acting/directing shows when I really should have been concentrating on what career I wanted to do and losing weight (it is always reminding me that I should have been losing weight, and now that I am well on my way to my goal, it tells me to just give up because there is no point) and finding some poor idiot to marry me and carry my emotional baggage for me because clearly it is too crippling for me to handle and look at the mess you made and way to go, you finished all the seasons of 30 shows on Netflix, but your novel is still unfinished in your head, and you never went to grad school like you said you would...or Germany for that matter...or Ireland, or New York, or ANYWHEREANDNOWYOUWASTEDYOUR20SANDYOUAREBASICALLY30ANDITSALLOVERYOUFOOL!!

Deep Breath.

That voice reminds me that my friends are married, or almost engaged, some of them with children, most of them with amazing careers and awesome houses or apartments. I'm in my high school bedroom. My social life is laughable, and that voice wonders why I have any friends anyway! I sure wouldn't be my friend. Looosserrrrr.

But.

The other voice says why?

Why do I have to have it all figured out?
Why do I have to go into debt to live on my own?
Why do I have to have a job I HATE to make more money when I love the job I have now?
Why do I feel like I am less of a woman, less of a person, less valuable because I'm not married and not dating? Why is that such a bad thing? Why is there so much pressure on me to have to be with someone? Why isn't it enough for me to be me on my own? Can't I find someone in my own time, without whispers of my sexuality in question, without feeling like I am a second rate citizen, without worrying about my future? Why can't I live my life as a confident single woman now?

That voice tells me to shut out the hurtful things I hear, sometimes from the people closest to me, and fight for what I want. Fight for the things I am passionate about. It means sacrificing things I am not ready to give up and going through some painful things, but if it means I will be happy in the end, then I am going to do it. This voice tells me to live like I am beautiful, to live like I am worth loving and fighting for, to ignore the self hatred that the other voice throws at me. This voice reminds me of how far I've come, rather than of how far I need to go.

I will never have it all figured out. I don't think I ever want to. But today, I am going to listen to the voice that tells me to hang on and fight. Perhaps you struggle with the same inner voices that I do...one whispering defeat and one encouraging you to carry on. Don't give into defeat.

Carry on, wayward son.

On Purity Culture and Abuse

Edit: Christianity Today has removed the article. See the new post here.

Warning: This post is about sexual abuse in the church. Please know that I do not wish to offend anyone, so if you are easily offended, stop reading. Also, if sexual abuse is a trigger for you, please read at your own discretion. 

 

There is a lot of talk on the interwebz currently about feminism, about rape culture/purity culture, and about how leadership and Christians should be dealing with it all. I have been both anxious and apprehensive to jump into the conversation.  On one hand, I do have a lot I want to say about women’s roles and leadership, and how the Church deals with sexual abuse and purity culture, but on the other hand, it’s terrifying to speak up. I don’t feel qualified in a lot of ways to publish a blog post and declare my opinions to the world, but more than that, I think some feathers might get ruffled when I do. That is my biggest concern in this issue--offending someone I care about by speaking up. But here we go anyway.

You see, I have never been raped or sexually abused, but I have dear friends who have been. I have seen what it has done to them, sat with them as they cried, held their hands as they recounted their stories. I have heard beautiful, precious women say they are ugly, worthless, and broken because they were victims of molestation or rape at the hands of men that were supposed to protect them.

Tears, screaming, self mutilation, loneliness, isolation, years of depression and counseling, broken families…this is what it means to be a victim. There is no victim privilege--despite what Washington Post columnist George Will wants you to believe, no woman in her right mind goes out in search of being raped.

The problem is that I also know a sexual offender. He served a few months in jail for molesting a girl who was just under the age of consent, and he was a pastor at the time. He is married and has kids and he is a great husband and father, truly he is a wonderful person now. But he groomed this girl for a relationship, and he manipulated everyone around him. I was in high school and when the shit hit the fan (pardon my French), I had no idea what to think.

I was furious at him

I was furious at her

I was furious at God

The situation turned ugly for a long time. My church seemed to fall into despair for a while. My family had been very close with him and his family, so in the messy confusion of the situation sided with him against the girl and her family.

I was trapped in the middle--she was my friend but they were my family.

For years, I just never thought about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I still don’t want to think about it. I had forgiven him, I had forgiven her, with conversations happening between me and both parties. I thought the situation was far and away in my past. It didn’t happen TO me, so why should it matter to ME?

Then this week, Christianity Today published an article entitled, “From Youth Minister to Felon” and my beautiful amazing feminist friends on twitter and facebook exploded in anger and outrage. It is a 6 page article written by a former youth pastor in prison talking about his “affair” with a student in his youth group and how his “adultery” tore apart his marriage and ruined his life and career.

Never once did he call it rape. Never once did he talk about how it ruined the girl’s life or how it affected the girl’s family and friends, or tore apart the church. Never once did he take responsibility for his actions, instead he blamed it on not feeling appreciated at home. It read a bit like a warning to pastors not to get caught, or at best it seemed like a priming for this man to find his way back into the ministry once he is out of prison.

Since publishing the article a few days ago, the backlash has been tremendous and the editors have added a note trying to make up for the fact that they published the article, but it feels like too little too late. 

I can't help but feel like the blind eye I've turned towards my feelings about the situation in my past is forcing itself open even though I don't want it to--because it exposes some dark truths about myself. I spent so much time telling my beautiful, precious friends who were victimized in their lives that they are worthy of love and redeemable and made whole, but deep down I bought into the lies of purity culture. Purity culture that is virtually indistinguishable from rape culture.

The lies that say once it's gone, it's gone. Can't be a virgin twice!
She was asking for it. Look how she's dressed!
She knew better. She's 16 years old. Please.
It was her fault. She could have said no at any time or told someone and it would have stopped.

The realization that these are the thoughts I have had hit me like a ton of bricks. ME? Think like THAT?! Are you kidding?! I would never think that about a victim of sexual abuse....until I think back to my first encounter with sexual abuse and I realize: I was groomed too. I was groomed to believe those things. Growing up, through middle school, high school, throughout the situation....these are the kinds of things I've heard my entire life.

Slut shaming and victim blaming....

But no more. 

Now I want to stand with victims. I want to stand with those who are too ashamed to speak up, too afraid to voice their opinions--against rape culture, against abuse, against patriarchy. I am proud of my friends who were once victims and are now standing tall. They are now wives and mothers, strong and resilient, living amazing lives that are no longer marked by VICTIM.

I stand with the redeemed. I stand with the former abusers who have changed their ways. I am proud of my friend for the person he is now and for how he took responsibility for what he did. I am proud of his wife for who she is and how she handled herself during the situation. I won't abandon those who have fallen but I won't do it by shaming the victims. 

That's the hard part. Finding the thin line where we love and help the abuser while fulling supporting and ministering to the victim. There can't be an either/or mentality in the Church. To me, that seems to be the biggest problem in dealing with sexual abuse.

We have to find a way to bring Light to this dark part of Christianity. It is a cancer destroying us. It was the cancer destroying me, and I didn't even know it.  If you want to read more, here are some articles you might find interesting.

Because Purity Culture Harbors Rape & Abuse By Suzanne Paul

My Innocence Was Stolen From Me  By Michael J. Murray

Leadership Journal, Christianity Today, and #TakeDownThatPost by Samantha Field 

No Really, #TakeDownThatPost : An Open Letter to Christianity Today & Leadership Journal By Bethany Suckrow

Yes, I am still alive! Huzzah!

My-oh-my, where has the time gone?

Time flies when you are in the repetition of life, and boy, I sure seem to be stuck in a repetitive cycle of life! The only big news in my life is that I am no longer a youth leader due to having some work conflicts with my job as a nanny. I wasn't able to work the hours they needed me and still be able to be a youth leader. It was a really hard decision and it's one that still makes me sad and I am hoping that in the future I will be able to get back to my girls. It's tough because some of them are graduating and I missed out on the end of their time at Fuel and I won't be able to go on the summer mission's project this year. I've had a couple of other opportunities that I could have taken for the summer but there is some stuff going on with the families I work for and I made the choice to stay working for them and sacrifice some things in my life for now.

Speaking of things I'm sacrificing, I debated for a while whether or not I was going to talk about this, but I decided that since I talk about pretty much everything else going on in my life, I should probably talk about the biggest thing going on right now. About two (almost three) months ago, I joined a diet support group called Grace and Strength (For more info) and it has been the best and worst thing I've ever done to myself. If you know me in person, you know that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a small girl. In fact, I am past pleasantly plump and pretty much in the dear-lord-what-did-you-do-to-yourself range and I have spent years trying to lose weight and blah blah blah. Insert sad sob story about how I am a loner, loser and complicated wreck (name the movie, get ten points...) and now I am eating rabbit food and chicken and I am just hungry and I have to pee a lot because I am drinking gallons of water every day. I will be a part of the program until I reach my goal weight and at this rate, it's going to be a while. But it's something I need to do and I've wasted enough time being the fat girl in the group and blaming everything on my weight. So, even though it's mostly mortifying to admit that I'm on a diet and that I'm shockingly not skinny, I want to be upfront and honest about where I am in life.

Sidenote: Why is it so embarrassing to be on a diet? Anyone who looks at me knows that I need to be on a diet. It's not like they see me and are shocked that I would choose to diet or want to lose weight. But I still feel weird about telling people that I can't stay for dinner because I can't eat what they are having or I have to order salad with chicken at restaurants instead of what I would normally order. It's a theme with some of the women in my accountability group, and with other girls I know, no one wants to admit that they are being conscious of what they are eating. Let me get this straight...I am supposed to be a size 0 and yet still eat any and every thing that is offered to me? How is that supposed to work? Where to the calories go? Oh society and your twisted double standards.... End sidenote...

Anyway, that's what's up with me right now. I want to blog about different topics in the next few weeks. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know in the comments! I will do my best to not wait 6 months before my next blog post!