Guys, mama’s got some emotional baggage to unpack. I know what you’re thinking, yesterday was heavy enough, right? Can’t we just get to the funny stuff? Trust me, nobody would like for me to be mentally stable more than me. (Except maybe my husband, Tom.) Just be patient, because I accidentally stabbed my friend today, so we will get to the humor in a minute. But, first… I have a secret that I have to get off my chest.
I struggle big time with shame.
I’m not talking your run of the mill mom-guilt. I’m not talking about sincere and appropriate remorse when I do something wrong. I am talking about disproportionate and painful humiliation for things that I have no control over. Quick example… I shared Day One to Facebook yesterday and while it was re-posted over 100 times and elicited an overwhelmingly positive response and a couple thousand people took the time to go to the website to read the blog, my post and any shared posts were somehow deleted from Facebook. This happens right? Someone marks something as spam, maybe on accident, maybe on purpose. Someone doesn’t want to be tagged in something, so they report it as offensive, intentionally or not. It could have been an honest mistake, or someone could have genuinely found the content to be offensive. I mean, kindness is pretty scandalous and controversial.
However it happened isn’t the point, it was my reaction to what happened. I felt a deep, searing sense of mortification. Not that my post disappeared. Not that there was a little hiccup on day one.
I was mortified about who I am.
This is terribly embarrassing to admit, but if I don’t do anything else of significance this month, I will at the very least tell you the truth. And this is the ugly truth… When things go south, my first instinct is to sort of hate myself. I immediately launch into some inner dialogue about how bad I am, or how stupid it was to think this was a good idea, or how embarrassing it is to be vulnerable about my personal life, and, and, and…
I realize how dramatic this sounds. It is ridiculously dramatic. I feel like a needy and insecure middle school girl even admitting this, which is probably what I am on the inside half the time. It’s not only pathetic in and of itself, it’s also really selfish. It’s selfish because I am surrounded with as much love and support as any one person possibly could be. It’s selfish because it is an entirely self-focused reaction to life’s circumstances. It’s selfish because believing that I am trash is like spitting in the face of the God who created me.
I am a work in progress. And I want to be honest about that process because that’s what this blog, and my whole life really, is all about. I believe that God redeems, that he longs to make all things new. Including our baggage. Including our selfishness. Including my temporary insanity, and my misplaced sense of identity. Including me, and you, in our current, broken, messy state.
For Day Two, I wanted to celebrate the sentiment of newness. I recently retired from my little business called Piccadilly Rose, where I would take old, discarded fabrics and make them into one of a kind accessories. More than I loved creating headbands, I loved the idea of taking something that has been rejected or abandoned and making it into something beautiful. I have decided to stop the business so that I can solely focus on the growing opportunity to do writing and speaking full time. So, while I will no longer be making trash into treasure, that is the very work that God does in me every day, and it continues to be the undercurrent of this new endeavor of writing and speaking.
Our church recently hired a new pastor. He and his wife have an adorable little two year old peanut who always has her hair done up in some sort of bow or headband. Since I am retiring from the headband business, I thought I would spread a little accessory love from my dwindling inventory to welcome the new pastor’s family. (True confession: I didn’t think I would like the new guy, because I loved the old guy so much. But, what can ya do. They’re great. So they get headbands.) Speaking of being mortified about who I am as a person, as I was delivering the headbands to OUR NEW PASTOR, I accidentally said the phrase “feminine hygiene products.” You see what I’m working with here? How can I NOT struggle with shame? #nofilter
I am also bringing some baby headbands to another little sweetie from our church. (I will not mention sanitary napkins this time, I swear. Except I probably will. Ugh, I can’t be stopped.) Anyhow, we have an incredible Director of Outreach and he and his wife inspire me on a daily basis with their incredible heart for foster care, adoption, racial and social justice. So, the newest addition to their family will also get some baby swag from the going-out-of-business event.
So today, I honor my brother’s life by telling a hard truth, by letting God love me and heal me into a better version of myself, and celebrating what is new. New families, new beginnings, new friendships, new life. It is the business of God to make all things new. I know I have said it a million times, but until I am so secure in that truth that I no longer spiral into a selfish fit of insecurity… I will keep preaching it from the rooftops, to you and to myself.
Oh, yes, the humor! I almost forgot!!
I stabbed my friend Ben today.