Little Miss Can't Be Trusted

If you've read any of these last few blog posts you know that I've been strolling through my mind and digging up things that have been hibernating just below the surface. I have been working with Jessica Tomlinson to help discover how to bring my big meaningful dreams into the world. One of the first things we did in Bali was release the self-limiting, bitchy name calling voices in our minds that try to tell us we don't deserve to even have a big dream, and even if we did it isn't a good enough dream to have in the first place. I never really grasped the intimate, co-dependent relationship I had with my "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong" ego, until these last few weeks. I thought she was the one who protected me for years with her various, mean spirited whispers :
"You are not the pretty girl. You're the funny one." (that's why you're alone, so it makes sense)
"You're not smart enough to have anything but an Associate's Degree." (I wouldn't even get into a BSN or MSN program anyway)
"Moving will be good because no one really considers me a friend in the first place." (I've been here for 3 years and I don't have close enough friends to exchange Christmas gifts with or who would want to help me if I needed something.)
"Maybe you should get a new job so that no one realizes you don't know everything." (One of these days someone will ask me something and I'll be expected to know the answer, but I won't)
"Sure, start writing that book, just like all the other ones you never finished." (Just like everything else you get excited about that goes nowhere, no reason to waste my time)
"No one would want to publish it anyway so you might as well stop writing that book." (They won't publish a new author unless the author has 2 or 3 manuscripts ready and I can't even finish one)

Little Miss Can't Be Wrong was the protector of my deepest fears, validating them and helping me foster these beliefs so that I would be prepared for the "I told you so" moments that inevitably always popped up because I was stupid enough to go against that bitch.

Do you know what "I told you so" means in my mind? It means I can't trust you. It means that I can't be trusted to make important decisions because they always end badly. Do you know what it means to me to hear "I don't trust you" in my mind? It means I can't love you.
And I wonder why I have had such bad depressive episodes.
And why I have believed for so long that I would never deserve a really good man to have and to hold from this day forward.
Why, now, I believe that I have never had children.
Do you know what it means in my mind to have no self-trust? It means I can't trust anyone else either.
It explains why my 2 closest friends live 3 -4 hour plane rides away, and not down the street.

Which is why Little Miss Can't Be Wrong was my best friend and constant companion for so, so long. She was the only 'person' I could trust.
Until I met God.
Charles Feltman says "Trust is choosing to make something that is important to you, vulnerable to the actions of someone else."
Brene Brown's research on trust shows that trust is built in the little, small moments. Of course there are the big moments-the moments when someone you trust answers "Yes, I'll come" when you call her during your darkest moments. Smaller moments like getting an apology when it is deserved. It's being able to apologize when you should and knowing that the other person truly forgives you. It's seeing in action what someone professes. It's broken when someone you shared things in confidence, tells you something that was told in confidence by someone else. It's saving a seat. Calling on your birthday. Knowing what your deepest heartbreaks are and making a point to be available when one might arise. It is built when someone is vulnerably honest. It's built when someone gives you the benefit of a doubt when you might have acted badly toward them.
A lot of these examples come from Brene Brown's Supersoul Sunday talk about Trust. She does not mention God.
Faith and trust- I think of faith as a belief in something unproven. Putting faith in God is such a difficult thing to do, I think, because of the belief that all that we assume we know, we assume is true. But faith quickly becomes trust when you live in God's word because you see His work in your life.
This healing insight is a manifestation of my trust in God. As vulnerability uncovered shame and shame uncovered trust I always had what I needed to understand, around these concepts, delivered straight to me. And that is good to my soul.
In praise of Him,
B.

Shame on me.

It's very dangerous to pray for God to prepare you for the plan He has for your life. For he will certainly oblige. Our deepest wisdom often comes from the dark, sometimes shameful and often times painful places we've allowed ourselves to visit. I think of God as my tour guide through those things, plus through a lot of things I had refused to even see. Hell, I didn't refuse them really, I straight up didn't even know that they existed.
I've prayed a lot of selfish prayers over the course of my 39 years. Most recently, I prayed before submitting a profile on a dating site "Please God, only bring someone into my life that will strengthen and support my life in service to you." Really- a dating site, I kid you not. Sheesh. In theory it isn't really that bad of a prayer, until you realize I was trying to talk God into doing things my way. What I see now is that there was a lot of emotion to that prayer. It wasn't very specific, but it felt a lot like hope. Firstly, I was hoping that I wouldn't come across the usual online dating profile of bathroom mirror selfies, way too tight t-shirts and hair gel (have I missed something? do they sale those as a package deal?). Secondly, I was hoping that the matches that did fit the bill for taking their religion very seriously, weren't from the Westboro Baptist Church. Lastly, I was hoping it wouldn't be a lot of dead end messaging that would inevitably dwindle away into oblivion.
What? Can't a girl set ridiculously high expectations for a free, no frills dating site? (Coffee Meets Bagel, in case you were wondering).
God has an interesting way of answering prayers. I have only gotten one match to this day. It was a gift from God. Of course, it didn't really end up like the gift I had hoped for, which made it even more necessary. Now, don't misunderstand me, Mr. Bagel met so, so many of the expectations I had and it was so refreshing to sit and talk for hours on end about, well, anything. I couldn't believe this intelligent, kind, and if I might add, gorgeous guy, would sit across from me and be legitimately interested in me.  Isn't it just like life (read = my neurotic tendencies when it comes to fear of rejection) to rear it's shameful, hideous head? The anxiety of not knowing what would happen or how things would all turn out showed up in what I thought was an intuitive hunch. Yes, he had already been talking with another woman, that he met before me and they had continued to do so. How DARE he not see that I am the most worthy of them all.
What? Can't a girl demand such ridiculous validation in hopes of  fueling one small spark of self worth? I think back and realize I've done this same thing with EVERY date and job application. I must be seen as the most desirable, qualified, fantastic person, and it must be known by those involved instantaneously. As if I was everything to everyone. Guess how many times in my life I've gotten that kind of validation? Well, ok fine, there might have been that one time, but I had to divorce him when he started destroying my soul. You would think I would've learned that receiving instant validation is just as much of a warning sign as wanting, no, needing the validation in the first place. The Lord is a top notch therapist.
It really was a great week. Yes, it took me one week to completely lose my shit. It's kind of like that project in school where we had to carry the egg around and make sure it didn't break. The overbearing, overprotective kids always broke their eggs. Eventually. Holding on tight for safety resulted in a broken shell. God was kind enough to put this humpty dumpty back together again. See, shame is a pretty difficult thing to deal with and I was ashamed because I was needy and weak and fearful. I was ashamed that I couldn't shake the emotional hangover of it all. I was ashamed for feeling like I was being "that girl" and I was ashamed for even caring in the first place. Then in some soul searching about my aversion to being vulnerable, I became ashamed of that too. Guess what shame does to us- it makes us bullies or it makes us withdraw completely. So, I proceeded to fill my thoughts and his cell phone with every detail of what HE did to mislead me. (It would've been nice to have someone elbow me and say 'Hey, your crazy is showing'. It was a testament to his character that he didn't do it). I mean, what guy doesn't get on his knees and beg forgiveness for something that was never done in the first place. What guy doesn't want to spend more time with the girl who was in essence pointing her finger and saying, you should be ashamed of yourself? Shame loves company. Misery tends to shuffle right up next to shame and it's all over except for the voodoo doll.
I have so much gratitude for this entire encounter. I would never have learnt that I needed to be patient with myself when I am vulnerable. I might never have recognized the behaviour as bullying instead of the passive- aggressive (ok, maybe more aggressive- passive) commentary that I thought I had every right to dish out.
I would never have known what it was like to be proud of someone for setting their boundaries and staying true to their needs. Admiring him for doing something I have never seemed to be able to do. And the strength of being able to say all of this with humility and grace. At least, that's what I'm aiming for.
Yes, meeting Mr.Bagel has certainly strengthened and supported my life in service of the Lord.
In great praise for Him, through which all things are possible.
B.

November 6, 2015-I didn't know my own secret

It was this day- one year ago. I dwelled in the darkest places of my mind, and even there felt empty, alone, unworthy. So, it scares me what I have been feeling over the last few days. Not the heavy suffocating darkness of depression, but of the fear of being alone, unworthy. Of the fear that my mind has convinced me, from years of living, loving, losing and letting go, that if I were to hope for love again I would surely fail and that failure would be an abyss I would never ascend from. Broken heart, broken mind, broken soul led me to being broken open by the grace of God. Accepting Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior was the easy part. Believing in a love that would die on the cross for me, well, it’s something I could not grasp. I surely would never be that lovable. Surely that sacrifice was made for those in the front row, the VIP section, not for me- looking in through a window to a world I only hoped that SOMEDAY, I would be able to walk in. Let my deeds out run my words--- chronic loneliness becomes a comfort. It becomes usual and normal. It has wonderful hiding places for dreams, desires, and hopes- So when I felt called to go to Africa from the serendipitous experiences over the last 11 months, it felt like a relief. To be thought of as so noble, so Christ like to put aside my western home to be in service to my neighbor, who is only like me in that we bleed the same way. I realized today that it was just another hiding place. A safe place to place my heart and soul so that it would have less of a chance of being rejected, hurt, and through my mind’s eye, a fatal wound.

What better place for me to be? No one would be surprised that I remained single. No one would question if I knew what my purpose was because the assumption, of course, would be that I was living out my purpose. I would be able to convince people that I had it all figured out. Wouldn’t living in chaos allow me to never fail in that arena?

I’ve been an imposter in my own mind. Thinking it was my high standards, my relentless pursuit of nothing less than perfect that validated my loneliness. That validated my refusal of being vulnerable.

All along it has just been fear. A fear that, yes, over the years has been fed by insecurities, false hopes, manipulation and being broken by what I thought was love from another person. To risk hoping for love, I would have to accept the possibility of being irreparably broken. I haven’t even had the courage to recognize this in myself until today, so there has been no instance in the last five years that I hadn’t sabotaged, for lack of a better word, every relationship I’ve ever had, except for with children. I haven’t opened myself up even to friendships. Even at work, I have maintained a façade that I’m so independent and carefree, confident and self- assured. Eating sushi alone. Watching live music alone. Being out alone. As if it was my choice and desire. In the small area of my heart where this secret has been stored, there still exists one more defining revelation. I don’t know how to NOT be alone. I don’t know how to have the courage to be the half of a relationship. I haven’t figured out how to overcome that paralyzing emotion of fear in being hurt, rejected by another person.  The only straw that I am grasping at is that God will show me the way. That he will always love me, warts and all.