So I have been thinking about the nature of encouragement and discouragement. As I said in my opening salvo I wanted to be a writer. At least I think I did? It was just so long ago, that I have a hard time trying to remember why I did not pursue writing as some type of career. I have just recently started to weed through memories to figure out the motivation behind my actions. There was one memory that came to me, as there was only one time I can actually remember telling someone that I wanted to be a writer. I don’t remember exactly when it was, but I was in high school, maybe even a senior by that time. I happened to be having a conversation with our next door neighbor’s daughter. She was older than I was, a woman, married with two children at that time. I am sure she was just making simple conversation, as we were sitting on the front porch, but I am beginning to think that the conversation had more of an impact than either of us could have imagined. Why did I tell her? I am not really sure? Maybe it was as simple as no one had ever asked me before.
It was there on the porch, that she told me that her husband was a writer working for the newspaper. I really do not remember all of the details of the conversation, I just remember the negative feelings it produced. What little I do remember was about all of the college I would have to attend, and how difficult it was to find a job in the business. I also remember feeling embarrassed. Maybe because I had told her something that I had not shared with anyone else, and her response was so negative. Her opinion was obviously colored by her husbands experience, and that perspective then colored her response to me.
Did that discourage me? Probably to some extent. Remember though, I danced in the closet, I wasn’t exactly an open book. Maybe if I had reached out to someone closer to me, I would have gotten a more positive response. I did not though, and so there was nothing to counter the negative advice. That brings me to the million dollar question. To what extent do our words tear down? How much does it take? So on the flip side of that, do our words have the ability to build up? How much encouragement does it take? I was wondering what I would be writing about in this blog, and for the time, I guess my question has been answered. I am laying down on the couch, and inviting you to my therapy sessions. We now have a privileged relationship. So you know what that means? What happens in the blog stays in the blog. It’s kind of like Vegas, except you will definitely wake up in your own bed.
I would have loved to post a pic of just me, but I don’t seem to have many pictures of just myself. I am not much of a narcissist. I am the one on the left. My son and husband are also pictured with me. This is our trolley ride outside Suisun, at the Western Railway Museum in Northern California.
Who am I? I guess I am the girl who wanted to be a writer, but became discouraged. Maybe I am the girl who wanted to be a dancer. The one who used to dance in her sisters closet, wearing her mother’s heels as she tapped away on the wood floor. I never took lessons as a child, and my tap dancing proves it. What really gets me though, is that I can’t even remember asking my mother if that was something I could do? I just secretly danced in the closet. I also guess that I was hiding. Regardless, I am tired of being in the closet. I am tired of keeping quiet about who I am and who I feel I should be. I used to be a liar. Many times, the lies were to cover something that I had done wrong, or something I was supposed to do, but didn’t. I am just now realizing that there seemed to be a side effect to the lies. The lie started to become my life. How I truly felt, what my actions should be, or who I really was became part of the lie. I was more afraid of what people would think, than being afraid of not being who God made me to be. When I realized that lying was hurting my relationship with my husband, I asked God to help me to stop. And He did. I do not lie any more, but there was a funny side effect. I not only became more honest with my husband, but I started to become more honest with myself. I started writing in journals, this was so I could let the honesty out. Even though I do not lie to my husband, I still have a hard time being totally who I am, even with him. And in so many ways, that sucks. We have talked about it recently and while I think I am getting better, I still feel like I hold back. I am not sure if that is because I don’t want to reveal my inner self to him, or if it is because I am still finding out who that inner self is?
So I guess this blog is just a journey as to who I am. I am a wife, daughter, mother, teacher and friend of God. I am going to try and be no holds barred in this space. If you are looking for juicy, edgy and crazy stuff, this is probably not the place for you. If you are a harried mother, insecure woman, wishful thinker, crazy wife or closet dancer you might see yourself here. I promise to be honest, an open book. This blog is not really about what I hope to accomplish, it is more of an obedience/God/discipline thing. They say in preschool, it is the process, not the product. Well I can guarantee you, there may not be a product, but you will definitely see a lot of process. It will be messy, tearful, complicated but hopefully encouraging. Process.
