It has been over a year since I have taken the time to write on here. That sounds about right; it fits with our life.
I recently took up writing again, more in a private forum called "Microsoft Word" whenever I am feeling off or in need of some therapy. It helps me to sort out my thoughts.
Going forward, I am committed to writing about real moments. I always write about real moments but with omissions. Omissions like, "And then I lost it and started yelling" and "That was right before I realized I forgot to feed Elijah breakfast, four hours ago."
Last night we celebrated Shawn's aunt's 50th birthday at his grandparents' cottage on Lake Michigan. Again, I embraced the fact that I do not enjoy big group get-togethers, at least not initially. It was not until I sat down with one or two people (and coffee) that I was able to appreciate the time we were investing into that event.
Following some reflection, I figured out why.
When we enter a room with a lot of people, our walls go up. These walls are sometimes (perhaps often) healthy and necessary, but I struggle to experience meaningful connection when they are there, either on my part and/or others'.
I enjoyed two conversations last night in which walls came down, and I was able to see real people behind them. I was able to be real too.
Being real, to me, is not glorifying our faults but accepting them as a fact of life. It is with this understanding that we can go on to fully embrace grace and experience joy. Joy is not a way of denial but an appreciation of what's good, co-existing and shining through the darkness we know is there. Without being vulnerable to the darkness, without letting down those walls, we cannot experience true joy, at least not to its fullest.
I am reminded of this quote:
"The most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, suffering, struggle, and loss, and who have found their way out of the depths. These people have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness and concern. Beautiful people do not just happen, they are grown in the face of adversity." -Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
People, to me, are most beautiful when their walls are down. People are most beautiful when they are brave enough to let others see they are ugly and messy, that they fail to hold things together, that they want to be one person but actually are another, that they do have regrets in life, and those regrets propel them forward.
Yes, I am socially awkward, whatever that really means. On a "women's night out," I somehow find the one person who has experienced multiple losses and talk with her about that while everyone else drinks and dances. Something tells me you are awkward too, perhaps in a different way, and that you might become lonely, tired, and/or scared pretending that you're not. Rest assured, though, that you're OK. There are many people just like you hiding behind their walls. And perhaps that's the most terrifying thing of all. That there are people who are just as dishonest, judgmental and selfish as we are. It almost seems safer to believe we're the only ones, eh? But that is dangerous. It is through admission of these things that, for me, leads me into my spirituality, to the truths of love, repentance, forgiveness and grace. And then all of this is not scary anymore. In fact, it is life-giving. God is life-giving.
We have to be real in order to ask for, receive, accept and experience life. Though I try, I have yet to find another way.
