About 6 months ago, I moved home. I rather expected this to be a seamless transition; after all, it's home. Family, memories, friends, familiarity. I knew there would be some annoyances and that I was going to be working to get back to the standard I had previously set for myself, but I certainly did not think it was going to be the -- challenge isn't strong enough -- tribulation that it has been. The worst part has been knowing that most of the negative aspects are my own fault.
I love Jane Austen. I love the characters she wrote. There is something so complete about her heroes. They all have flaws as well as charm, and they all go through a journey to improve themselves, usually for the love of another. Pride and Prejudice is by far my favorite example of this. As much as I love the 1995 miniseries (aka, the ONLY version worth watching - ever), after completing it for the zillionth time the other day, I couldn't help but go and grab my copy of the book and read the last few chapters again. The movie cannot capture every delicious piece of dialogue and each moment that makes me smile and cover my face with the book in some subconscious effort to find deeper refuge from reality inside this life-long comfort. The quote above was written about the heroin, Elizabeth Bennet who, although fictional, has made a profound impact on my nearly twenty-four years. Each time I read my favorite book I would feel such a deep satisfaction in realizing a similarity between myself and Lizzy. My dad has often said of me, "she does not suffer fools lightly," and I have always taken that as a compliment as it is something that was natural about me, but something Ms. Bennet also refined. I believe that at most times in my life those closest to me would have been able to describe me in a similar fashion as Lizzy was described. Of myself I have often attested that I do not have the time or the energy to hold grudges and that when I do have a falling out with someone I get over it rather quickly after spending some time alone and clearing my head. This isn't always the case and I have had my share of self-inflicted injuries thanks to dwelling on an offense for too long, but in general, I avoid the petty drama and the heartache that comes from being continually vexed. I've taken pride in my ability to befriend all types of people and personalities and in being a fun, easy person to be around.
It's a curious thing not feeling like yourself. It feels so nonsensical. It's like looking back at your shadow and thinking it looks familiar but then looking eye-to-eye with a stranger in the mirror. I don't feel like me. Right now I don't feel lively and playful. My daily disposition is not easy and joyful. I don't know how to let annoyances pass by me without effect anymore, and I can hardly even describe the character I have played out lately. I wish it were just a character that I could play on command and get all that dirt out and then walk back into my happy shoes, but it hasn't been that way at all. Moving home has brought into the light corners and nooks of which I would have happily remained unaware.
I've become very familiar with projection lately. That is, letting the thoughts I am having about myself, in my own head be re-imagined, and convincing myself they are the thoughts of outside observers. There are two most common thoughts that more than any other thoughts manage to worm their way throughout my entire mind and then plant in the projection room. First, embarrassment. I've had embarrassing moments before; being chased by a herd of cows and misplacing a motor vehicle were definitely near the top. However, I've never experienced anything that filled me with such shame that I couldn't get over it in seconds or at most minutes, and I've gotten plenty of joy from laughing at myself. This is different entirely. I've found myself to be embarrassed of myself. I went from a place of earthly independence; living alone, taking care of myself, fully managing this adulthood in the midst of tall buildings and accomplished people; to having my figurative wings clipped and losing that independence that meant more to me than I ever knew, and taking it's place is just a pile of shame. [Just typing these words feels like digging deep splinters out of my heart and I have to pause to breathe when I realize I'm holding my breath behind my clenched jaw.] There is so much about my life right now that I don't even want to discuss because saying it out loud feels like the mortification one experiences in the dream where they notice they forgot to get dressed before going to school. In an instant the spotlight is on me and I didn't even wear my cute underwear today. It's just me, and that isn't enough.
These are my thoughts. These are the invention of my mind and the last six months, however it is not a difficulty at all to decipher a look or an innocent comment from someone not trapped inside my crazy head and become instantly convinced that these are their thoughts, their judgments, and I am the victim of their harsh criticisms. I have never experienced such deep humiliation as I do now, believing that other people see me the way I see myself.
Embarrassment is not fun at all, however compared to the next emotion, I feel far more equipped to handle shame. I don't know what to do with this one; I just want it out. I'm angry.
I almost feel like I should be in a depressing room sitting on a fold out chair, introducing myself and explaining why I want to quit whatever we're all agreeing to quit. "But... I'm Bekah. I'm... I'm not angry. What are you talking about? An angry person? Nope. That can't be me."
I have been known to get mad. I don't know what siblings don't know how to perfectly enraged each other, but they aren't the ones I'm related to (woohoo, triple negative). The older ones could give you a list of the words and jokes not to even mention around me if you aren't prepared for a verbal battle or at the very least are sarcastic, disgusted comment, and the younger sisters would hopefully be able to advise you not to take my clothes without asking (and then claim you didn't know they were mine- huff!) All these offenses come and go and come again and go again, but the nasty taste of anger and shouting never lingers for long. Like the last emotion, this is different. Each morning I wake up with an anger hangover. The day goes on and I am dodging the hot lava but jumping from one pissed off stone to the next. A disrespectful comment is not just that, it is a sign, sealed, and delivered invitation to a shouting duel, and my words will cut. Little brothers being lazy and rude obviously need confronting, but I know very well I give them precious little warning before letting the fire-breathing dragon inside speak for me. Then there are the offenses I merely observe and am not even involved in. I'm actually not going to give examples here and will spare the perhaps two teaspoons of dignity I'll have when this is done.
There are a lot of really tricky things going on in my life right now, and I have to acknowledge that. The job/career area is back in the dark and looking for new or additional forms of income is a discouraging place to live. A car is 10% necessity 90% paycheck eater/dream crusher in my eyes and not a month has gone by without issues that have far too often left me stranded on the side of the road. Relationships in my home and hometown have not come back easily and some have caused me some very real pain. Then there is the living at home thing. It's a lot. But I've been through a lot before. Stress has never broken me down like this "season" as people keep calling it. Death and loss has hurt so deeply, but I've always been able to keep calm and carry on. Why is this so different? How have I let these unknowns take over the me I took pride in an reduce me to someone who should be living alone in the woods, handing out poisoned apples to unsuspecting, brainless tarts?
The projecting comes into it again. I feel all my forms of identity -- my labels of independence and adventurous spirit and successful high-stress job holder -- being very threatened and even completely removed and I am not at all happy with what is left to define me. The fear that comes from that place manifests in anger. Anger for anyone who would think less of me. Anger for anyone who would think this is okay (yes I am aware of the frightful contradiction here). See, if someone that I am connected with thinks living the life of a parasite is no problemo, that means someone might get the idea that I think that too and that I am choosing this path I find myself on. To counteract that, my siblings have had to endure months of the Bekah Seminar instructing them to pick up their things, unload the dishwasher, think before you say something that is going to enrage your brother, JUST BE USEFUL (honestly, these are all things I hold to strongly, but they haven't been taught from a loving place. Love has been long silenced.)
The more I write the more crazy I feel, so it's time to sum up.
I've recently connected with a Bible study group again. I didn't need to do that to know that these thoughts in my head were not healthy and not from God. My upbringing of faith has given me a foundation at least, even when I feel like all my walls have been knocked down. It has been interesting though to be faced with some questions I haven't thought to ask myself. Many of the questions in the book ask you to explore what you think God requires from you or what you think you have to do to please God. They're asked in a way that assumes you have false ideas of what is required of you. The truth is though, I don't have those. I have been taught grace since before I knew I was being taught anything and it has seeped in. Even in the midst of shame and anger, I don't feel that from my heavenly Father. I know He wants better for me, and I feel him pulling me along even when I'm craning around to get in one more jab, but I never lie in bed at night thinking that He hates me or is angry with me or that I'm not good enough for Him. I've been a mess forever and He has made use of my life in the past, I know He can do it again. The scary reality I've had to discover is that I have higher standards for myself than God has for me. Without Christ I am nothing and I could never even dream of approaching the creator God -- but with Christ I have everything. I am made complete and I am given full access to the help and hope that my King offers me. There doesn't seem to be an atonement that will help me reach my own standards though. Well, there is. It's just getting my life together. If I want to get away from the shame, the mortification, the anger that I feel flowing out of me, I just need to get back to the place where I was proud of myself. I need to work harder, run faster, and for goodness sake don't get trapped in a boring life with no story. I hate being the one that my siblings tip toe around. I hate knowing it's not easy for my mom to talk to me anymore because I might get irrationally angry about something. I hate not feeling like myself and those voices that all sound a lot like me keep saying all that will go away when I just get this "season" this "stage" sorted out. But what if it doesn't...?
