I finally figured out what was going on. It has nothing to do with age and more to do with me. The older that I get, I feel the less and less people see me. Now, it sounds a little ridiculous when I type that out, but it's true. I fear that no one cares. No one will notice. You know, the typical Eeyore act.
But the more I thought about it, it has precious little to do with anyone else and everything to do with how I am feeling about myself. Whoa. Revelation. This revelation comes on the heels of rereading that book called, Captivating. The back sleeve of the book encapsulates its message such as this:
"Your heart matters more than anything in all creation. The desires you had as a little girl and the longings you still feel as a woman-- they are telling you of the life God created you to live. He offers to come now as the Hero of your story, to rescue your heart, and release you to live as a fully alive and feminine woman. A woman who is truly captivating."
This book goes into details about the fall of humankind and the effects it has had on females ever since. In light of this theological paradigm, it is truly remarkable how there are some universal themes that resonate within the heart of many-a-woman. And how deeply I had identified with those themes.
The female co-author wrote this:
"I know I am not alone in this nagging sense of failing to measure up, a feeling of not being good enough as a woman. Every woman I've ever met feels it--something deeper than just the sense of failing at what she does. An underlying, gut feeling of failing at who she is. I am not enough, and, I am too much at the same time... The result is Shame, the universal companion of women... Why is it so hard to create meaningful friendship and sustain them? Why do our days seem so unimportant, filled not with romance and adventure but with duties and demands? We feel unseen, even by those who are closest to us. We feel unsought-- that no one has the passion or the courage to pursue us, to get past our messiness to find the woman deep inside. And we feel uncertain-- uncertain what it even means to be a woman; uncertain what it truly means to be feminine; uncertain if we are or ever will be" (pp. 6-7).
"I am not enough, and, I am too much at the same time." She nailed it. In one sentence. Dang. And shame, what woman doesn't know that companion all too well?! I have been feeling a lot of shame lately about a myriad of things: work, friendships, my career, familial relations, so on and so forth.
What does it come down to? It really comes down to this:
"Every woman knows now that she is not what she was meant to be. And she fears that soon it will be known-- if it hasn't already been discovered-- and that she will be abandoned. Left alone to a die a death of the heart. That's a woman's worst fear-- abandonment... And down in the depths of our hearts, our Question remains. Unanswered. Or rather, it remains answered in the way it was answered so badly in our youth. 'Am I lovely? Do you see me? Do you want to see me? Are you captivated by what you find in me?' We lived haunted by that Question, yet unaware that it still needs an answer. When we were young, we knew nothing about Eve and what she did and how it affected us all. We do not first bring our heart's Question to God, and too often, before we can, we are given answers in a very painful way. We are wounded into believing horrid things about ourselves. And so every woman comes into the world set up for a terrible heartbreak" (pp. 58, 59).
Fear, abandonment, and heartbreak... Oh my!
I was talking to a friend today about how her world was wrecked by abandonment and heartbreak as a teen. Mind you, my friend is one of the most beautiful souls I have ever met. She is a captivating woman. I am learning how to be a more beautiful woman by watching her. So, it frustrates me to see such a beautiful woman doubt her value because of how poorly she was treated. No one deserves to be treated that way, but especially not her.
Anyways, we were talking about how she had been betrayed. Without going into details (to protect not only the anonymity of my friend but also to keep those details close to my chest), I couldn't help but sympathize, feel angry for her, and somewhat scoff at how cliché her scenario was. It's a classic tale of betrayal at a very tender age and it has left my beautiful friend scarred. But we all have those things.
That's when the seed of my revelation was planted during our conversation earlier. It was then that I had realized that she had believed a terrible lie about herself.
She thought that she was not enough and, at the same time, too much.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
Then, as I sat down to write this blog, I thought If that was a lie about my friend, how is it not a lie about me as well? Huh. It was so easy for me to see how my friend was blinded by her own pain to see reality and I wondered how clouded my own vision had become lately. That's why I ended up leafing through that book again to find the passages that I had vaguely remembered and cited to my friend earlier today.
Through that process, I came across the following truth. I know it in my head to be true, but in my heart, it is something that has not yet gripped the depths of my soul:
"Now, often the hardest person to fight for is... yourself. But you must. Your heart is needed. You must be present and engaged in order to love well and fight on behalf of others. Without you, much will be lost. It is time to take a stand and to stand firm. We are at war. You are needed" (p. 195).
As I was watching "The Iron Lady" with Meryl Streep today, I was captivated by the strength and beauty of Margaret Thatcher. In the movie, she quoted this popular saying:
"Watch your thoughts, for they
become words.
Watch your words, for they become actions.
Watch
your actions, for they become habits.
Watch your habits, for they
become character.
Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.”
We must carefully guard our thoughts and words about ourselves, because they become our destiny. So I'd like to conclude this blog with an affirmation and admonishment--
I am needed. And so are you, my friend.
