Let's be honest, confrontation has never been my strong suit. But lately, I've begun to delve deep into the confrontational facet of my personal relationships. My roommate and best friend is much like myself in the sense that we are primarily private people with too much pride and ego to call anyone on anything even remotely negative for fear that we, in return, may be called out as well. At first, this seemed to play to our advantage as roommates and created an extremely non-confrontational, peaceful environment. Over the years, however, the lack of communication that has resulted actually built up tension and planted seeds of question in both our minds over where we really stood in light of the other.
A lost cause? The possibility entered my mind but with a little uncomfortable effort, I managed to discard such a thought. For some unknown reason, we began to speak truth into each others lives and though awkward as it was momentarily, it turns out that this humble confrontational spirit actually builds friendship and trust. Calling for a little compromise here and added effort there, things get better at home every day.
That all sounds very "sit-com", you know… the world's problems solved in thirty minutes flat with a big smiling happy ending. But it's a far cry from easy. Have you ever found yourself so high up the ladder of pride that it was embarrassing to ask for help down, but there was no other way? I practically fell off the highest rung of the ladder because, though I noticed out of the blue just how high up I had climbed, I still wouldn't ask anyone to help me down.
Though this might be the world's most negative self-talk, I've got to admit, I feel like a complete loser. For years I've lived with the same person and maybe, maybe twice I've vacuumed the floors. I've lived in our current apartment for almost a year and I've honestly never cleaned the bathroom floors, not even once. The shower? The toilets? All I do is use them, never held a cleaning product even close to them. My boyfriend stays the weekend and I let my roommate clean up after him. Granted it's her brother (which is comical in and of itself) but really, I honestly feel it's my responsibility, which I ungratefully pass on to her every time.
At the end of the day, where do I stand? I've promised to do more, to do my share… and I still fail horribly. I took the trash out once since then and still haven't vacuumed. A tragic pitfall of my own selfishness and laziness, laid bare for all to see.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Finding my niche... Just the beginning
I've been reading alot about diversity lately; the unique gifts and abilities God gives us, the diversity that creates, and the beautiful way unity is created when we come together with our differences. Ironically, it's not the coming together that I don't get, but the diversity. I can't wrap my mind around what it means to be uniquely different and, on an intensely personal level, what that looks like for me. Not only am I uniquely different as an individual, but those things which make me unique are the very things which God has called me to excel at, to exploit for the betterment of mankind, to embrace as the focus and niche of my life.
I have spent the better part of this year wrestling with this very concept and feebly attempting to come up with a picture, a mere sketch, of what this really looks like for me; a 24 year old, single, college student with a full time job, living on her own in Redondo Beach. How does this play out in my job, at my home, in my relationships, in my schooling, my future? Searching desperately for a little focus in my life, I've begun to process through the written word what my niche might look like.
I have spent the better part of this year wrestling with this very concept and feebly attempting to come up with a picture, a mere sketch, of what this really looks like for me; a 24 year old, single, college student with a full time job, living on her own in Redondo Beach. How does this play out in my job, at my home, in my relationships, in my schooling, my future? Searching desperately for a little focus in my life, I've begun to process through the written word what my niche might look like.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Guilty Until Proven Innocent
When I was growing up, any time I did anything wrong and was confronted by my mom about it, regardless of our conversation, it was always followed by a distance between us. She would pull away for a short time, I felt, as her way of saying, I am disappointed in you and because of what youve done, now you deserve to be alone, and she would withdraw; withholding communication, love and any real connection. Eventually, later that evening or a day or two later, she would come around and things would be fine again- as if nothing had happened.
In the brief time we did spend talking prior to her pulling away, she would always tell me how disappointed she was in me and disappointed that I had done whatever it was. She usually ask me why Id done it and proceed to tell me that there was no real excuse for doing it, that I knew better and shouldnt do it again. Never once did she say she understood how I felt or why I did what I did. Never once did she tell me stories of her own disobedience as a child or try to connect with me on any level. It was like she had this incredible standard of perfection that she expected me to reach all of the time and in the moments that I missed it; I had not just fallen short, I had failed her and I had failed as a human being. It was never something to learn from; it was something to be ashamed of and never ever do again. It was never a good try and youll get em next time. It was failure and you will do perfect from here on out or we will repeat this cycle of disappointment, withdrawal, abandonment
Today Ive noticed within myself that as an adult my biggest fear is disappointment; being disappointed by other people and being a disappointment to other people. I dont know how to allow myself or other people to mess up.
When faced with times when someone else has fallen short and disappointed me, I become my mother I am quick to let them know that they let me down. Then I shut down and want to withdraw. And when I eventually come back around, I dont want to talk about it I dont know how. I just want things to go back to normal.
When faced with times that I have disappointed others, I run into a shell as a defense mechanism because I am so terribly afraid that they are only going to express their disappointment and abandon me. So I shut down and act like nothing is a big deal to me because it hurts too much to open myself up to someone who is going to tell me that Im a disappointment and then leave me, abandoned and alone, worthless until I can prove myself otherwise in time.
This fear also lends to my tendency to be a perfectionist. I try so hard to prove myself so that I can feel a sense of value and worth. I put all my energy into my work so that I have something to point to and say, Look! I am good at this! I did something well I am not a failure!
I have always felt that in my life I do not succeed, I just simply do not fail.
In the brief time we did spend talking prior to her pulling away, she would always tell me how disappointed she was in me and disappointed that I had done whatever it was. She usually ask me why Id done it and proceed to tell me that there was no real excuse for doing it, that I knew better and shouldnt do it again. Never once did she say she understood how I felt or why I did what I did. Never once did she tell me stories of her own disobedience as a child or try to connect with me on any level. It was like she had this incredible standard of perfection that she expected me to reach all of the time and in the moments that I missed it; I had not just fallen short, I had failed her and I had failed as a human being. It was never something to learn from; it was something to be ashamed of and never ever do again. It was never a good try and youll get em next time. It was failure and you will do perfect from here on out or we will repeat this cycle of disappointment, withdrawal, abandonment
Today Ive noticed within myself that as an adult my biggest fear is disappointment; being disappointed by other people and being a disappointment to other people. I dont know how to allow myself or other people to mess up.
When faced with times when someone else has fallen short and disappointed me, I become my mother I am quick to let them know that they let me down. Then I shut down and want to withdraw. And when I eventually come back around, I dont want to talk about it I dont know how. I just want things to go back to normal.
When faced with times that I have disappointed others, I run into a shell as a defense mechanism because I am so terribly afraid that they are only going to express their disappointment and abandon me. So I shut down and act like nothing is a big deal to me because it hurts too much to open myself up to someone who is going to tell me that Im a disappointment and then leave me, abandoned and alone, worthless until I can prove myself otherwise in time.
This fear also lends to my tendency to be a perfectionist. I try so hard to prove myself so that I can feel a sense of value and worth. I put all my energy into my work so that I have something to point to and say, Look! I am good at this! I did something well I am not a failure!
I have always felt that in my life I do not succeed, I just simply do not fail.
Naked In Front of the Masses
The one thing that has always held me back in life is fear; the fear that I will try something unfamiliar, something I dont thoroughly know how to do, and that I will fail at it.
I have been that way even as a young child. My mom told me that one time we went to an amusement park as a family and I saw a ride that I wanted to go on. So we got in line and after a while of standing there, I decided I didnt want to go on the ride after all. So we stepped out of line and watched as my brother and father continued on to the ride.
As we were waiting for my brother and father to finish the ride, I asked my mom, What happens when you get to the front of the line? She explained that they would seat us on the ride together. So I asked, Then what happens when the ride is over? How do we get back here? After she explained the whole process of getting on, riding and exiting the roller coaster, I decided that I did actually want to ride it. So we got back in line and went on the ride together.
The only thing in that instance that made me get out of line in the first place was a fear of the unknown. I didnt know how it worked or everything that would happen along the way, so I opted not to go on it at all. I also wouldnt admit in that moment that I was afraid. I questioned everything until I felt one hundred percent safe and then went forward.
When I was in the eighth grade I wanted to try out for tennis. Before I would try out or even pick up a racket, I read everything I possibly could about the game of tennis so that I would know exactly what I was doing when I went out there. I had never played tennis before in my life; but I would never let that show when I played and I sure wasnt going to just learn from experience. I researched and methodically thought out every step before I went on to the court. The ironic thing is that I knew, this being jr. high tennis, that they would teach everyone everything they needed to know as a part of the tryouts. Even still, I would know it all before they could teach me; I would not look like a fool.
Deep inside myself I have a desire, a passion, to do so much; to try so many things. But I dont ever let myself because I am so scared. I take the conservative route, save myself the embarrassment of failure and refuse to even attempt the unknown; I wont even admit to wanting to do it. To actually admit that I want something or to try something but am too scared; that is so embarrassing.
The one thing in all of this that is most perplexing to me is; where did this deep seeded sense of fear come from? Because I have always been this way.
I have been that way even as a young child. My mom told me that one time we went to an amusement park as a family and I saw a ride that I wanted to go on. So we got in line and after a while of standing there, I decided I didnt want to go on the ride after all. So we stepped out of line and watched as my brother and father continued on to the ride.
As we were waiting for my brother and father to finish the ride, I asked my mom, What happens when you get to the front of the line? She explained that they would seat us on the ride together. So I asked, Then what happens when the ride is over? How do we get back here? After she explained the whole process of getting on, riding and exiting the roller coaster, I decided that I did actually want to ride it. So we got back in line and went on the ride together.
The only thing in that instance that made me get out of line in the first place was a fear of the unknown. I didnt know how it worked or everything that would happen along the way, so I opted not to go on it at all. I also wouldnt admit in that moment that I was afraid. I questioned everything until I felt one hundred percent safe and then went forward.
When I was in the eighth grade I wanted to try out for tennis. Before I would try out or even pick up a racket, I read everything I possibly could about the game of tennis so that I would know exactly what I was doing when I went out there. I had never played tennis before in my life; but I would never let that show when I played and I sure wasnt going to just learn from experience. I researched and methodically thought out every step before I went on to the court. The ironic thing is that I knew, this being jr. high tennis, that they would teach everyone everything they needed to know as a part of the tryouts. Even still, I would know it all before they could teach me; I would not look like a fool.
Deep inside myself I have a desire, a passion, to do so much; to try so many things. But I dont ever let myself because I am so scared. I take the conservative route, save myself the embarrassment of failure and refuse to even attempt the unknown; I wont even admit to wanting to do it. To actually admit that I want something or to try something but am too scared; that is so embarrassing.
The one thing in all of this that is most perplexing to me is; where did this deep seeded sense of fear come from? Because I have always been this way.
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