Take Heart!

Today I had to ask someone for help. A favor. A pretty big one, too. I held the phone in my hand for a solid five minutes before I made the call. This was after putting it off for hours. She was so gracious and kind and of course, said yes. Yes, she'd love to help me.

Yesterday, I reached out to someone in a text that I hadn't talked to for several months. Someone that I saw every week for over a year. We were pretty close. Her response to my text? "Who is this?"

You win some. You lose some.

It's fascinating to me how even the smallest gesture of vulnerability can feel excruciating. We are all part of the human race. We all have needs. A need for help, for contact,  for connection or community. We all feel the need to be seen and valued.

And  yet, putting myself out there in these two small ways- with very little risk- felt so risky.

I guess along with shame comes the fear of exposure. Being exposed for who I really am. Being truly vulnerable means allowing others to see me at my weakest. I don't know anyone who wants to have their neediness exposed and yet, when I think about the people who I know that have taken the risk to let others see them in that way,  I'm always amazed at their honesty. I'm always encouraged by their courage.

I recently listened to a devotional where the speaker says that Jesus was hard on the Pharisees because they were hypocritical. They hid who they really were- presenting a false piety to the world.

Jesus was never hard on anyone in scripture for being weak or real. In fact, he often brought out their weakness so he could address it. So he could heal them, forgive them and make them whole. An encounter with Jesus is always exposure without wounding.

Unless you are a Pharisee. The Pharisees were the opposite of vulnerable. They were proud and arrogant in their own strength. These men Jesus wounded. Yet, even for them -and for those of us today who are afraid of exposure- there is healing in his wounds, if we allow our weakness to be exposed by him.

I'm realizing these days that vulnerability is not weakness. It is courage. It's strength.

And, even if I'm not rejoicing in my neediness being exposed, at least I don't have to be afraid. I can take heart that Jesus is there to step into my weak places with hope and courage.

Walking With a Limp

My son keeps telling me to move. Move my blog that is. I tried but I'm overwhelmed by starting something new. Just the thought of it makes me feel anxious. Silly? Yes, I guess. But, true.

I've been absent for a while. No writing.

My loving and generous husband bought me a laptop just so I would write. He believes in me. It was as if this kind and thoughtful gesture paralyzed me. Also, I started reading Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott. A book, by one of my favorite authors, about writing. I was so inspired by her and then- so paralyzed.

I've been in a dark place again. I've been thinking about what would I call this place along my journey. A valley? A desert? Maybe I've been adrift at sea. I feel too lost to even recognize the landscape.

I don't want to be here. I don't want to write about it.

But, recently I watched two TED talks by Brene Brown. The first one about vulnerability and a second one on shame. Very powerful and very heart wrenching for me to watch.

I've been practicing vulnerability. Very slowly and with much trepidation. And, honestly I haven't always been pleased with the results. In fact, this week I spent three days injured from practicing this art. Yes, injured. And no, not emotionally, physically.

Steve and I were in the midst of a hard talk. One of those "talks" where your voice goes up about three octaves and you begin to sweat.... well, maybe that's just me. I was sharing with him some things that were very difficult for me to say. I didn't realize it but I had my right leg in a toe pointy tight thing. I guess it's called "en pointe" in ballet terms. Anyway, I was so tense that I actually injured my calf muscle. I couldn't walk without intense pain for three days! I'm not kidding!

Vulnerability really is painful.

Honestly though, the shame I have felt over sharing myself is way more painful than a torn calf muscle. In her TED talks Dr. Brown shares that in her research she discovered that people who are vulnerable are people who believe they are worthy- worthy to be seen, to be heard, to take up someone's time sharing of themselves. Well, this is the crux of it for me. I have never felt I was worthy of that. I've never believed that who I am was worth anyone's time.

So, I've finally come to understand that this is what keeps me from writing. Shame. It's not feeling overwhelmed that paralyzes me -it's the shame that does that.

Shame sucks. But, I've decided that living a false life sucks more. I'm going to try vulnerability instead. I'm going to stare down shame, choose not to listen to it's insidious voice. I'm going into the arena. I have no doubt I'll emerge bruised and wounded. But, I believe these wounds will heal and the true me will be left standing. I've also decided I'm worth the risk.

Stay tuned if you want to read up on my journey into discovering the real me. I can't promise it's going to be pretty but I do promise to keep writing no matter how loud the voice of shame gets. I've got my gloves on and I'm not taking them off anytime soon.


Here is the link for Brene Brown's talks. If you have a few minutes they are more than worth your time.
http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html, and her Ted Talk 2 on shame  http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_listening_to_shame.html

Is This TMI?

Tonight, as I was getting ready to head out the door to meet some friends for dinner I paused to look in the mirror. Once I got through the insecurity of my jeans being a bit too tight, I really liked what I had on. White jeans, black top, my favorite wedge sandals and a beautiful blue scarf I borrowed from my daughter.

 But, as I drove away from the comfort of my home and headed for the wine bar doubts began to settle in my heart and shake my already precarious confidence.

Who was I to think I could pull off a dramatic scarf loosely wrapped around my neck and draped over one shoulder? I love this look, but me? Growing up in a home where I was primarily praised for how I looked, aging has not been as smooth a road as I would have hoped. At 43 my neck is getting wrinkly, my hands a bit nobby, my hair is greying and not as smooth and thick as it once was. I look in the mirror and see crows feet and is that my imagination or are my eyes a bit sunken in?

My mom, at 74 has beautiful smooth skin. Recently, she stopped coloring her hair and it is this amazing brilliant white. Really lovely. I have good genes.

So, I wonder, has this life journey taken more out of me than I expected? And, no I'm not talking about looks here- well, not entirely. I'm pretty content with my appearance. I've got great facial bone structure- even if my chin is a bit too sharp. I do have lovely red(ish) hair and I've always loved my feet. Not that feet make you pretty but, I like mine.

Why then, at 43, don't I feel secure enough to walk into a wine bar feeling fabulous? If it's not my appearance then it must be my lack. But lack of what? If it's true that life has taken more out of me than I expected, what has it taken? And can I get it back?

When did my confidence become so tottery? Internally, I feel like a 9 year old girl walking around in her mother's heels. Ready to take a spill at any moment. The only difference is a 9 year old loves playing dress up. I on the other hand am tired of pretending.

Lately, I've been thinking quite a bit about duplicity and ways in which I am duplicitous. Not true. Not honest. Not me. It's a word that is taking me a while to get my head and heart around. I'm often checking to see if I am presenting a false self to others around me. The challenge? I'm having to get to know myself on a deeper level. The larger test? Being okay with who I am.

I have a friend who says sometimes she feels she is too much. Too much for people to handle. Don't we all feel that way sometimes? I do. I believe if I really let the true Jane 100% out it would be too much. Too loud, too sensitive, too selfish, too much emotion, too much honesty, just too much!

So, tonight as I sat in the parking lot debating on whether or not to take the scarf off; I thought about all these things. I finally came to the conclusion that it would be duplicitous of me to not wear it because, I love it. I love scarves. I feel beautiful, strong, and confident when I wear them. Weird maybe, but true.

I know my insecurity tonight wasn't about how I dress, but something deeper. A fear of being true. An anxiety about being too much. Yes, this life journey has taken a lot out of me. My confidence and self-love have slowly eroded over time. That's life. It happens to most of us.

What I'm thankful for- is that much has been put back. Words of life have been spoken to me and have soaked through to my soul. The friends I met tonight, like many of the women in my life, have done that for me. They have been life givers. The four of us sat around the table sharing so much more than wine and food.  We shared grace and truth. We shared Life.

And so, I ended the night the same way I began it- looking in a mirror. The mirror of true friendship. And, as I gazed into what they reflected back to me- what I saw surprised me. I saw that sometimes, I am too much to handle. I saw that we all are. I also saw Beauty. The beauty of unconditional love. That I am never too much for Him. And, that my friends know how to let go of what is overbearing for them and allow it flow to the cross where it's all been born already. It's all been held by the Only One who can ever bear it all. The one who none of us are ever too much for, Jesus.

The Whisper

I haven't been doing much writing lately, which I think is a sign of what is going on inside more than outside. I would like to blame it on being busy. The kids. The house. Steve being around more during his non-travel season. But, I don't think those things are completely true. I have also been telling myself -and others- that I don't have a lot to say right now. I don't think that's true either. The truth?

I've just been avoiding listening to myself.

God's been doing a lot of talking through books I've been reading and thoughts I've been thinking. But, when it comes time for me to turn those thoughts, ideas or impressions inward I'm finding lots of other things to occupy my time, my mind, my heart.

For one, TV. I'm loving Parenthood right now. Also, Downton Abbey on Masterpiece Theater. The Food Network and HGTV never disappoint! I've also been napping, eating, and basically just escaping. It's been great, actually. No complaints. But then, I get in bed at night and just before I fall asleep, I hear the whisper of a longing in my heart.

Yesterday, I had lunch with my sisters, and for the first time I said out loud for others and myself to hear all the thoughts and feelings that have been stirring.

It's been a year of dealing with loss. With grieving. Not just the twins. But more. So much more.

Pretty big things, too. Things like leaving our church and experiencing the loss of that community. Relationship shifts with friends and family. Our oldest son leaving home for college has been a daily loss and then there is Steve being away from home 1/3 of the year last year. These are all big deals and not even all the losses we experienced.

But, underneath the grief is the longing. The whisper of more. It's what I'm hearing when I let my soul get quiet. There's more than what we've had. There's more than what we've known. Right now, it's still just a longing. A vague idea, a vague hope.

But it's there and it's what brings me back to writing. To putting down on paper and letting my eyes see what's been kept quietly away. You see, if I put it down in black and white then it becomes for me. Becomes more real, more true. Becomes more than a thought, more than a feeling. It becomes a promise.

Hope. Trust. Wait.

This is the whisper.