I contemplated going to Church today. It probably would have been the 'right' thing to do from many perspectives. But as I lay in bed wondering what would be warm enough to wear, the reality of what it would be like today became a burden.
So many people would look at me with kind understanding and ask me how I am. They would tell me they have missed me and have been concerned. And that's fine - it comes from a place of love. It's my own response that weighed down on me. How could I explain that I have felt better not going to Church than I have in a long time?
I teach the Young Single Adult Sunday School class. I love them to bits. How do I explain this to them? How do I tell them that I haven't lost my testimony of anything that I know to be true, when my actions say otherwise? It's such a black and white culture. If I feel good going to Church, then it's the Holy Ghost telling me I am doing the right thing. But if I feel good staying home, then that's the adversary. I mean, I've pretty much said as much myself. I've warned them that the times we don't want to go to Church are the times we need it the most. All of I sudden do I think these things don't apply to me?
I know what they will be thinking. That's it a slippery slope to inactivity. That I'm losing my faith. That I'm in a dark place. How do I explain that it's actually none of the above without sounding like I'm just in denial? And why do I feel I need to explain to them anyway?
This is what told me I wasn't ready to go back to Church yet. I'm still worried about other people's opinions of me. Explaining myself to them concerned me more than taking the sacrament, fulfilling my calling or learning more about the Gospel. I need to become more whole in myself. I need to reach that place in myself, that bright little pilot light, that connects me with all that is Divine so I can see past people's opinions. I don't feel safe at Church anymore. I always have my guard up and those walls are stopping me from feeling connected spiritually.
It feels good to recognise that this is the thing that has been weighing me down for some time now. It feels good to have the beginning of a plan. And it feels good to not 'have' to go to Church. To know that the decision is mine alone and not influenced by the feeling of obligations or doubt. I'm freeing myself one small shackle at a time.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Thursday, July 9, 2015
The Hidden Agenda of Hope
Don't give up. Hang in there. Things will get better. Keep the Faith.
We say these things to make ourselves feel better. We share this when people are burdened and can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. We imply that it's sometimes hard to keep going, but that if we just have hope then things will get better. It doesn't make it any easier for them. It makes things easier for us as we watch them. We can pat ourselves on the back for trying to help. Job well done.
But sometimes we do need to give in, even if just for a little while. We need to pull back and reevaluate the path we have been taking. And sometimes we need to give up on that path entirely. What people don't realise is that sometimes this takes more strength to do than just keeping your head down and mulishly propelling yourself forward on a path that doesn't fit right anymore. For me, just lately, this is where I have found my greatest courage. It came through giving up and saying "this just isn't right anymore".
It doesn't mean that I have lost my faith. I still believe in the Gospel. I still have a connection to the Savior and my Father and Mother in Heaven. But that's exactly why I need the space right now. I had come to the point where I had lost a delicate but intrinsic connection to the Divine aspects of my life and instead I was letting the opinions of others come to the fore and get me down.
I'm a hippy at heart. I have a loving and trusting soul. Sometimes I forget that people don't necessarily feel things with the same intensity I do. When I say I love people, I don't just mean I enjoy their company in passing; I mean that my heart swells to think of them and likewise breaks when that love isn't returned. I'm sensitive and vulnerable. When I have a cause to champion, I give it all my passion, not being able to understand how others could be apathetic or even turned off completely.
I was created this way for a reason. And I know that I wasn't serving my highest purpose by continuing on the path I had chosen, where I was regularly being asked or told to change. Where people's opinions had come to matter to me so much that I would go home feeling beaten down and stifled instead of uplifted and strong.
So I'm going to work through these things and get back to the core of who I am and what the Gospel really means to me. For now that means a little space from the people, but not the central message of love and hope. I need to find out what my life really means to me and how I can be true to my higher self. It's a journey and an exciting one. But just because I'm giving up one path for now, it doesn't mean I am weak or that I am despairing. Don't tell me to hang in there, when what I was hanging on to was tantamount to a spiritual noose around my neck.
I'm still strong, I'm just on a different path right now.
We say these things to make ourselves feel better. We share this when people are burdened and can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. We imply that it's sometimes hard to keep going, but that if we just have hope then things will get better. It doesn't make it any easier for them. It makes things easier for us as we watch them. We can pat ourselves on the back for trying to help. Job well done.
But sometimes we do need to give in, even if just for a little while. We need to pull back and reevaluate the path we have been taking. And sometimes we need to give up on that path entirely. What people don't realise is that sometimes this takes more strength to do than just keeping your head down and mulishly propelling yourself forward on a path that doesn't fit right anymore. For me, just lately, this is where I have found my greatest courage. It came through giving up and saying "this just isn't right anymore".
It doesn't mean that I have lost my faith. I still believe in the Gospel. I still have a connection to the Savior and my Father and Mother in Heaven. But that's exactly why I need the space right now. I had come to the point where I had lost a delicate but intrinsic connection to the Divine aspects of my life and instead I was letting the opinions of others come to the fore and get me down.
I'm a hippy at heart. I have a loving and trusting soul. Sometimes I forget that people don't necessarily feel things with the same intensity I do. When I say I love people, I don't just mean I enjoy their company in passing; I mean that my heart swells to think of them and likewise breaks when that love isn't returned. I'm sensitive and vulnerable. When I have a cause to champion, I give it all my passion, not being able to understand how others could be apathetic or even turned off completely.
I was created this way for a reason. And I know that I wasn't serving my highest purpose by continuing on the path I had chosen, where I was regularly being asked or told to change. Where people's opinions had come to matter to me so much that I would go home feeling beaten down and stifled instead of uplifted and strong.
So I'm going to work through these things and get back to the core of who I am and what the Gospel really means to me. For now that means a little space from the people, but not the central message of love and hope. I need to find out what my life really means to me and how I can be true to my higher self. It's a journey and an exciting one. But just because I'm giving up one path for now, it doesn't mean I am weak or that I am despairing. Don't tell me to hang in there, when what I was hanging on to was tantamount to a spiritual noose around my neck.
I'm still strong, I'm just on a different path right now.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Girl in Exile
I've had this blog a long time but I've never posted. I intended it to be a log of all the poignant moments I had with my son as he grew and the musings I had as a Mother so that he would be able to know me better as he grew. The problem was, none of my thoughts seemed good enough. They weren't entertaining or uplifting enough to pass my own scrutiny of what a blog like this should contain. I didn't know then that it didn't really matter. I don't have to write novels or be perfect. He doesn't love me because I'm literary or a good cook or a fantastic crafter such as what I see and compare myself to on other blogs. He loves me because I'm Mum.
It turns out that "Mum" isn't perfect. She's human and fallible, with dreams, fears, hopes and doubts all of her own. And so now my goal for this blog is no longer to make it the sort of blog that people will come in their hordes to read. Perhaps no one will at all. And that's okay now. My goal is to simply be authentic, both to the good and the bad. To be brave and vulnerable, so Benji someday knows that I wasn't just "Mum", I was also human and fragile.
And I love him very much.
It turns out that "Mum" isn't perfect. She's human and fallible, with dreams, fears, hopes and doubts all of her own. And so now my goal for this blog is no longer to make it the sort of blog that people will come in their hordes to read. Perhaps no one will at all. And that's okay now. My goal is to simply be authentic, both to the good and the bad. To be brave and vulnerable, so Benji someday knows that I wasn't just "Mum", I was also human and fragile.
And I love him very much.
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