I am a boy mom. There is no denying that. I love to be outside, to climb, sports, sweatpants, tennis shoes and denim. I love playing in the rain (and snow, for that matter). I love the sun on my face and the sand between my toes.
It should be no surprise then how my femininity is often conflicted. Oh sure, I can put on some silver bangles and dangly earrings. I can wear a skirt and heels. I can try really hard to be girly.
I never get it quite right.
I don't shop. I don't like to browse for stuff. I don't like to buy make up (and consequently only buy what is ON SALE at the drug store). I don't get facials, mani's and pedi's except for special occasions (or gifts)). If I have to buy jewerly, I'm just fine with Charming Charlies. Just like if I have to buy new shoes, I'm okay with DSW or Shoe Carnival. And I only buy what I need at any given moment. And I'd much prefer to buy something for a loved one than for myself.
While my behaviors may conflict with my physical being, there is one tried and true piece of me that is TOTALLY woman. Yep. My emotions.
I've manipulated my emotions my entire life. I learned at a significantly young age how to get precisely what I want, when I want it. Maybe because I'm a stubborn BOF (baby of the fam). Maybe because I'm a Scorpio (sun AND moon). Who knows how I developed my mad skills. I can compartmentalize, categorize and organize my emotions into little buckets and keep them totally segregated with ease. I can bury any feeling I have into one of those buckets and keep it from impacting the rest of me. I wish I could put this on my resume as I have perfected it so well it should be recognized as a talent of mine.
For the past few years though my emotions have been playing hardball. They don't bend as well as they used to. In fact, sometimes they push back quite fiercely, rendering me nothing short than stunned. Sometimes leaving me completely subdued, totally opposite of the real me. It's been a struggle to say the least - one of which I sometimes lose and feel completely overwhelmed.
Not to get totally prophetic or anything, but a month ago we decided to get our hineys back to church. Sitting in the congregation on Sundays, I have started to let go. My shoulders are coming down a little bit. I'm not nearly as up on the wheel. I am physically feeling supported. And not by the other members. It's much bigger than me.
Several weeks ago I sat down and prayed by myself. Of course I gave thanks first for the things I am grateful for. But I immediately followed it with "help me demands". I was vulnerable, yes... but I broke some rules I'm sure for asking God to fix stuff for me. And I knew it, as soon as it came out of my mouth.
This week, I gave up a little. I prayed again, but this time I just gave it to God. I turned it all over. Every single ounce of it. I thanked him and asked him to show me his will (give me clarity in direction). And I let it all go.
As we continue to make the transition to move, I am breathing easier by each step. The next opportunity is slowly making itself clear to me and I am exhaling with great comfort. My path may not be completely clear just yet but I know whatever it may be, it will be where I am supposed to be.
Finally. And after years of attempting to perfect my manipulation of those crazytrain emotions, the answers were there all along. I just wasn't asking the right person.
Someday I'll get it all figured out, I'm sure.
Have a great Saturday friends!