I have a few women in my life that this latest blog post is inspired by. Each of them with very different paths, very different lives and very different types of courage. A friend searching for a new career path that gives her the room to meet her children's needs and her own. A sister who is about to become a published author. Another friend who is in love, but struggles with her own sense of self-worth in the face of unrequited love. And myself, who is finding myself in a new space where I am taking on challenges I never thought I could or would and putting myself as a priority in that new space.
My personal life- guru, Dr. Brene Brown, talks about courage by explaining that it comes from the latin work cor - which means heart, and describes that courage is about telling the story of who you are with your whole heart. This idea resonates with me: that being authentic and being honest about who we are and what we want (and need) from life is more important than we allow it to be.
A few weeks ago, on a random Tuesday, I was feeling particularly great about myself. I was bopping around the house, listening to music and cleaning. I was feeling the impact of the changes I've made over the past couple of years and just had this 'Wow, I really am awesome' vibe. Suddenly, I thought about some of the people who have come and gone from my life over the years and how shitty they treated me at the time. For the first time ever, I felt kinda bad for them.
Please, don't get me wrong.. I'm not trying to be conceited or full of myself or vain. My thoughts were initially centered on those kinda 'if they could see me now' thought that run through our heads as things like 20 year high school reunions loom around the corner. And, like thoughts do, it just sorta meandered into the place where I thought about how I would act and what I would say. And it was then that I felt bad for them, because in my new-found confidence, I could see that they wouldn't really recognize me. And then, my thoughts turned instead to why I had never felt this way before. I have never felt bad for those people! In fact, my heart is still filled with love for them, and it's never occurred to me that they were missing out on something. In fact, it was quite the opposite. And suddenly I realize something about myself that I had never realized before.
(Ready... because this is a big one.)
I made it acceptable to treat me badly. In fact, I made it the standard.
Let me go back for a minute and explain by simplifying it. Let's say I had a crush on a guy. It would generally stay just that... a crush. A torch I would carry alone and silently. A one-sided love affair. Only in the light of my new-found self-esteem can I see why so many of my relationships-that-never-happened existed like this. I accepted some bullshit idea that I wasn't good enough to be loved back. What I put out there into the universe was that nobody should have the fortitude to have to deal with loving me, and that expecting them to love me would be a failure on two fronts: I would be be both unrealistic AND forcing someone I loved into a miserable life where they would have to tell the world that they picked me.
I told myself that NOBODY should have to live like that. I loved those people so much that I never expected them to love me back.
What is even crazier ( and again, I can only see this now) is that even after I found a man who loves me ( and married him!) I continued in this line of thinking. I spent years thinking that this man was a saint for loving me, or thinking that I had fooled him into thinking I was someone who was deserving of his love and that someday he would figure it out and move on to a more worthy woman.
This was not just in romantic relationships either. This existed in friendships and work relationships. Honestly, I treated people like being near me was a sacrifice, and I was just grateful for their ability to be seen with me.
So, back to the courage that I was talking about. In relaying this discover to my friend, we were talking about wants and needs, and how those lines can get blurred from time to time. We can tell ourselves that we don't "need" certain things, but many times, that is a mask that covers up the fact that our deepest wants are really a need that we deny ourselves.
I thought I wanted someone to love me. Really, I needed someone to love me. But, in that denial of my own story being told with my whole heart, I told myself that it wasn't a need. I was denying who I was and what I needed because I simply felt unworthy of having that need.
My sister's book, Queer Virtue, is about to be released. Her book is an examination of the parallels between being queer and Christianity. ( Shameless Plug, because she IS my sister! http://www.queervirtue.com/ ) In anticipation of the book, she is releasing a series on mini-sermons that touch on some of the subjects in her book. The first was released last night and is titled Identity. She talks about how people are called to be themselves within Christianity. She describes that this call to embrace ones identity is not just cornerstone of the LGBTQ community, but requirement of the faithful. Her two-minute video describes that these two things are not mutual exclusive, and they do not exist in the vacuum, and these are shared values between two communities that sometimes feel at odds with one another, but share this core value. I thought about my recent discovery of self-denial and how tied into my own lack of self-worth it was. These two things are absolutely the same thing. Identity is courage: Telling the story of who you are with your whole heart. Regardless of someone's position on religion or faith, there is a truth that exists. The path to fulfillment lies in our ability to be exactly who we are, and let the world see that entirely.
Today, after several weeks of life getting in the way, I was about to make it to Meatball Thursday- a recent tradition with some friends of mine where we meet at Ikea for cheap Swedish meatballs and great conversation. One of my friends was discussing her job- mostly that it just was not working for her life and she is seeking a path toward something that works for her and for her kids. Inside that conversation, I mentioned that with her amazing history of homeschooling her two boys, maybe she could look at leading some home-school centered classes. In the middle of the conversation, she needed to run out to her car, and she came back with a brilliant idea that both suits her perfectly and fills a need that is under addressed. Really, her idea was perfect for her. I'm not sure if this is something she is going to pursue, but again, it made me think about courage.
So many times in our lives we are called to make choices that we simply shouldn't have to make. And so many times, we make choices based on that idea that wants and needs are mutually exclusive. Especially parents, who wear the title of sacrificial lamb as they tread water for years and years just hoping for the day when their sacrifice is recognized and rewarded. But, we also see the other side. We watch people who take the risk and make a life for themselves that encompasses their wants, and they seem like they have a more fulfilling life. We watch in envy and convince ourselves that, for whatever reason, that is not a life we can have. We deny ourselves of our needs, convincing ourselves they are wants, because we do not feel worthy.
If my friend pursues this idea, or something else that works for her life she will be doing something courageous. She will be telling the story of who she is with her whole heart. She will be setting out a path for herself that fulfills both wants and needs. Because sometimes they actually are the same thing.
Yesterday, I ran a mile. I don't run- or that was the story in my head. I wasn't graceful or cat-like. I was awkward in the way that a person who has never ran anywhere but to the store to buy ice cream would be. I was a lumbering size 16, fresh from losing 68 pounds. I've never ran that far in my life. Today, I felt it, and ran 1/2 a mile despite the pain from yesterdays run still fresh in my legs... and back... and hips... even my eyes hurt a little. Both of these days, I had moments of self-doubt and fear. Fear that people would judge me. Fear that I would hurt myself. Fear that my new found ability would turn on me in unexpected ways. But, with every step, I found a bit more assurance in what I was doing. I was writing a new story for myself. A story that I would tell with my whole heart. I stopped telling the story of the fat girl who doesn't run, because that is not the story I want... and it's not the story I need. There were moments where I stopped to catch a labored breath and I started going back to that same story: the one where I could be the fat girl who walked the rest of the way.
But, then, I would change the story, because in my heart, I want to be the girl who runs. I want to be the girl who told boys that I loved them without fear and without self-doubt. I want to be the person who says that my identity is who I am meant to be and to be anything other than that is a slight against the universe. I want to be the woman who strikes out on her own to make a career for herself by making my own rules.
I want to be the person who tells their story with their whole heart.
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