If I could describe my insides these past seven months or so, probably longer, I'd say they resemble a house torn apart on every floor. Like a tornado passed through, but instead of a natural disaster, it's more like The Spring Cleaning of Spring Cleanings. You know what I mean? No item - in the closet, the bedroom, the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, the laundry room, the garage - left unturned. Every piece of furniture examined, every item of clothing, every decoration and scrap of paper and household product. Piles everywhere: what to keep, what to donate, what to toss, what to store away, what to fix, what to finish, what to hang. And the empty spaces that open up, where art is re-imagined, re-assembled, re-created, or created for the first time, or left empty.
Except, it's not a household. It's my life. It's me. Who I am in my guts, in my soul, in my beliefs, in my relationships, in my skin.
If you're nodding your head, you know what I'm talking about. You know, too, how utterly exhausting this process is. How it takes, most often, everything you have and maybe a little more than you thought you had. It's equal parts invigorating and terrifying; mourning and healing; chaos and peace; clarity and fog.
It's a death and a resurrection.
* * * * *
In this season, I've harbored a strong instinct to hide away. To let the work happen in the shadowed places, for they've been too fragile to withstand the glare of light quite yet. To allow myself this space to wrestle, to know myself, to grieve, to heal, to transform, to become. I'm learning how much judgment I've passed on myself throughout my life and how pressing it is that I learn to be gentle and kind with myself. To love myself, if I am to love others from my truest self.
Yes, I'm learning many things, too many to unfold here and many beyond the scope of this post. But one of those things I'm learning is that I'm just beginning to allow myself to need. I've written of this before, but I had yet to know how to go there in practice. How to even identify my needs, let alone learn to accept and express them. And to express them, I'm learning to be brave in ways that stretch me far beyond my comfort. To take risks. To stop apologizing for my needs. To allow myself to need something other than what I'm given. To not annihilate a need if it cannot be met. To not automatically take what is offered me if it is contrary to what I need. To say no. To face off with guilt. To listen to my own discomfort more than I try to perceive someone else's.
In my faith, in marriage, in friendships, in offers of friendship, in work, in rest, in play, in the invitation to live wholeheartedly, I am learning to step into braver skin. Even when I'm hidden away, to be hidden there in brave authenticity, not fear or shame. This is where I live these days.
Linking today with Kate and the Five-minute Friday community of writers, to the prompt of: Hide.
Joining also with Kelly and the community of Small Wonder, for the learning I've expressed here seems to fit well within an experience of wonder.
I love that we are FMF neighbors!
ReplyDeleteI understand exactly where you're at. I've been there, and sometimes I find myself going back to search through the wreckage just in case anything has been left behind that I need.
It's been a long, busy week but I'm stealing time to listen to the latest message you left me on Voxer. It's great hearing your voice, and now I hear it when I read your words. :)
I love that we're neighbors, too... I don't think that's happened yet :) And yes, I get that, looking back through the wreckage. There need be no haste, in sorting through the contents of life, eh? But it's always an act of faith, I think. It means a lot to have you here, friend. And I'm loving how I get to know your voice now through Voxer.
DeleteYou are in a vulnerable, scary but wonderful place. Grace in abundance to you. Visiting from FMF.
ReplyDeleteSounds like you, too, know this place, E.W. I appreciate the grace. Thanks for being here.
DeleteAmber, my young friend, who I will meet for the first time next weekend:
ReplyDeleteI read your post to my husband this afternoon. He agreed this was well written on so many levels. I have owed you email for weeks but lately simply haven't found words for where I have been these last months...but today you put it into words for me, in my own life and circumstances. That is what good writing does i think...takes people into their own story. When I start blogging again, I bet i will quote you! so just read your post back to yourself and consider it my email to you! and i'll see you next week and who knows, I may get that email off to you before that!
I'm humbled by your kind words, Carol - and by the way you were able to find your story in my words. I love it when this happens. I look forward to meeting you in a few days!
DeleteAmber, your revelation strikes a chord....one that resonated in me very clearly a couple of years ago which I was reminded of re-reading a journal I'd written in. I grew up as the oldest of 5 children of alcoholics. NO ONE ever asked me what I wanted or needed, I was either in charge of myself or everyone else, but no one took care of me. I took years for me to discover it was okay to talk about what I needed (or wanted--which is another biggie.) I pray that your journey will be gentle and complete and that like a true resurrection there'll be magnificent life on the other side.
ReplyDeleteWow, this makes so much sense with the bit of your history shared here, Jody. What a long road to learn how to need and want (yes, a very big 'biggie'). I feel your last words here are a beautiful benediction that I want to read and reread: "that your journey will be gentle and complete and that like a true resurrection there'll be magnificent life on the other side." Amen. And may it be so with you, too.
DeleteAmber,
ReplyDeleteI am struck with how much courage is in your words and how your whole post resonated with me but in particular: "To not annihilate a need if it cannot be met. To not automatically take what is offered me if it is contrary to what I need." Thank you ...praying you continue toward resurrection as you die to your false self and learn to live out of your truest self..Stunning :-)
Oh, these words, Dolly: "as you die to your false self and learn to live out of your truest self." THOSE are stunning. I'm deeply grateful this resonated with you and may you also experience what Jody wrote in her comment above (worth repeating here, for I told her it reads like a benediction): "That your journey will be gentle and complete and that like a true resurrection there'll be magnificent life on the other side."
DeleteAmber, I do believe my sister you have written about each of us in those words, " to allow myself to need." I get this because so many times in my life I thought I had to keep myself from that part of me. My part was to try and help others with their needs to my own hurt all too often. In fact I think I feared I would sound selfish if I told my needs. Only wish I had come to grips with this early in my marriage, things might have went smoother. After 50 years and at age 68 I can now openly state my needs and only feel a little selfish, guess I won't master it till I get to heaven and there I really won't have any needs, heaven. All that to say this was a great post, it resonated right down to my core. I am speaking to some ladies for a Mother Daughter banquet and I may just read that portion of your post, it goes along with something God is working in me. Blessings.
ReplyDeleteThis takes such courage to do. Wow. You're a brave woman, but also a strong woman because this also takes strength. Not many people are wise enough to go into this journey voluntarily. But the rewards will be awesome! Thanks for sharing your heart, Amber.
ReplyDeleteThank you Amber, always, for sharing your heart and the way its unfolding. Be blessed.
ReplyDelete