I’m increasingly conscious of the impact of where people are coming from and how we approach life. We all have a few inherent base orientations, base assumptions, or defaults that affect everything we do, say, and think. After struggling to come up with a term for this, I’ve finally settled on one: our magnetic norths. Our internal compasses tell us that these “facts” are true north, but they’re not. They’re so automatic that we’re often unaware of them, but identifying and challenging them can be life-changing.
I have a few magnetic norths, but my primary one is inferiority. Left unchecked, I instinctively place myself at the bottom of most ladders. I am the lowest-ranking in the room. I don’t assume that people will like me – often, I just try not to do anything that will get me laughed at. I don’t expect to “win.” These were the social lessons of my childhood, and I’ve never completely gotten over them. Christian culture often labels inferior feelings as humility and encourages them, but I think they’re just as unhealthy as pride. When I’m pointed in this direction, I’m not free to truly connect with and love others. I can’t have a positive effect on anyone if I feel too inadequate to open my mouth. I can’t step out in faith if I assume I’m going to fail. I can’t have real relationships if I’m trying hard not to be a dork. I believe that what we are can be just as important and impactful as what we do. God made me this way on purpose, so I need to fight the urge to lie low. (Conceal, don’t feel.)
Inferiority also breeds defensiveness. Until my late 20s, I totally shut down in the face of any aggressive conflict or criticism. My knee-jerk reaction was They must be right, I must be wrong, I am a bad person. Basically, shame. But as I gained more confidence, I was finally able to see disagreements and even troll attacks more objectively. I learned to take them apart and sift out the truth from the trash, to say Okay, what’s really going on here? More importantly, What’s motivating this person? In inferior mode, I wouldn’t see any further than the walls of the shell I’d just fled into. Now I can not only apply criticism more healthily, but I can also look at the other person and notice where they might be hurting, and maybe do something to help. When my energy isn’t going toward defending myself, I have a lot more to give. I’m happier and more open and compassionate.
Some of my other magnetic norths are fear and scarcity. I might talk about them in a later post. If you struggle with these too, please read Brene Brown’s book Daring Greatly, which I believe should be distributed to every household in America.
It’s not easy to think about your magnetic norths (and you might need help identifying them), but I encourage everyone to do so. I’m still far from mastering mine, but now I notice when my compass is drifting again, and I can adjust my course. It’s made a big difference.
4 Comments + Posted in: imperfection, reflections
Last weekend I finally saw Frozen. I absolutely loved it. If you’re unaware of the plot, Frozen is about two sisters, Elsa and Anna, who are princesses. Elsa’s (unexplained) powers over snow and ice turn dangerous when she accidentally strikes Anna. As a result, she’s totally isolated for the rest of her childhood, unable to control her powers and forced to keep them a secret even from her sister. When she slips up at her coronation, everyone but Anna turns on her. Elsa flees into the mountains, where she quickly embraces the freedom to use her powers and be who she really is.
Anna treks to her sister’s ice palace to help her and bring her home. But Elsa turns her away, insisting, “I’m alone, but I’m alone and free.”
So many themes in Frozen resonated with me, but this was the line that gave me chills (sorry). Elsa believes, understandably, that she can only be her true self in isolation – that no one will love or value her just as she is. She also believes that she’s now free from the cloud of fear that’s overshadowed most of her life. But these are opposing truths. As long as she’s afraid to let anyone in, she is not free. What she’s experiencing sure looks like freedom, but inside she’s still a prisoner.
How many of us can relate to this? That’s what I’m thinking about today. Discuss.
7 Comments + Posted in: movies, reflections
On a light note and inspired by the bounty of coming-attractions lists out there, here’s a handy schedule of the books, movies, and music I’m most looking forward to in 2014! Hopefully some of them are on your calendar too, or will be now.
Books (not all pictured):
2/4 City of God: Faith in the Streets by Sara Miles (the follow-up to Take This Bread)
4/8 I Don’t Know What You Know Me From: Confessions of a Co-Star by Judy Greer (aka the best friend from 13 Going on 30 and 27 Dresses)
4/24 To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han
5/6 Since You’ve Been Gone by Morgan Matson (author of Amy and Roger’s Epic Detour)
5/15 Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephanie Perkins
5/27 City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare (the big finale of the Mortal Instruments series)
7/8 Landline by Rainbow Rowell (Do you follow Rainbow on Twitter? She’s amazing)
9/16 The Infinite Sea by Rick Yancey (sequel to The 5th Wave – WOO!)
Movies (not all pictured):
3/14 Veronica Mars
3/21 Divergent
5/23 X-Men: Days of Future Past
6/6 Edge of Tomorrow
6/6 The Fault In Our Stars
8/15 The Giver (still nervous about what Taylor Swift is doing in this adaptation of a classic)
9/19 Dolphin Tale 2 (I’m serious)
10/3 Gone Girl
11/7 Interstellar
11/21 Mockingjay Part 1
Music:
U2, Adele, Coldplay, the Foo Fighters, and yes, Taylor Swift are all supposed to drop new albums this year, but not much is known about them. Maybe at least one will pull a Beyonce. Most of my forever favorites had new releases last year, so hopefully I’ll discover new bands to love while they’re busy touring and stuff.
Anything to add?
4 Comments + Posted in: movies, music, reading
I chose Alive as my word for 2014 mainly because I’m constantly tempted to shut myself down.
Without getting into personality theory (because it would quickly take over this post), I’m inherently sensitive. Since childhood, I’ve had lower lows and higher highs than most people. I’ve cared too much and thought too much. I’ve been too aware of the emotional energy around me. It’s like being in the middle of an imaginary Times Square, with a million internal and external forces beaming chaotically down at me. The daily sorting-out of all those forces can be a job in itself.
Since no one can (or should) survive life as a raw wound, I have learned to create space between myself and everything else, to gain some healthy distance and pragmatism. But I’m still affected – sometimes deeply – by things that more practical people shrug off or don’t even notice. And honestly, the older I get, the more I envy those people. Their decisions are easier. Their sufferings aren’t so soul-deep. They aren’t easily dismissed (sensitivity makes people uncomfortable). They look so much more together than I do.
On the surface, my life is great right now, free of major crises. In a day-to-day sense, I’m content and have nothing to complain about. This is where we live out much of our lives, and many people are happy to skim unquestioningly along the surface. I often feel frustrated and defective because I can’t. My problems are in the deep undercurrents, tough to quantify or discuss: scars, fears, hard realities, long-term disappointments. Also, grief is a lifetime companion that grows and changes with you, and sometimes a lifetime seems like way too long to carry it. I over-empathize when friends pick it up too. I get weary, and long to be light and free and not care so much.
In the short term, I’m sure I would be happier (and easier to be in a relationship with) if I somehow turned off my increased emotional capacity. But it would kill a central part of myself that God put there on purpose. Besides, joy and sorrow is a package you can’t unbundle. I don’t want to forfeit the highs with the lows. So, for me, remaining alive to my sensitivity is the first key to being fully alive.
12 Comments + Posted in: one word 365, personality
Dear Divorcing Woman,
I’m sorry to be writing these words to you. You probably feel alone right now, but you’re not. You just joined an invisible sisterhood that’s bigger than you ever imagined. The abandoned, the abused, the serially cheated upon: we’re everywhere. Rather than dwell on how depressing that is, just be assured that we get you, and we’ll have your back without demanding any explanations. We don’t hold you responsible for your husband’s choices. We know that, contrary to popular Christian teaching, one person cannot hold a marriage together by sheer force of will.
Here’s the good news: your divorce will make you stronger than you ever thought you could be. This is boot camp for your soul, and your strength will snowball. Every day, for a while, you will have to get up and do an assortment of things you really don’t want to do. Call a lawyer, reassure your kids when you don’t have much to reassure them of, deal with a broken car or major appliance, keep it together in the face of thoughtless, ignorant comments, move big heavy items alone… all while you want to lay down on the kitchen floor and just stare at the ceiling for an hour because your grief is too deep even for tears. But you’ll press on, because you don’t have a choice. And as the days turn into months and even years, you’ll become less and less intimidated by life. When you’re faced with something unpleasant, you’ll look back at all the other unpleasant things you’ve done, survived, overcome. Those things didn’t kill you. Neither will this.
When you get a chance, go ahead and have those kitchen-floor moments. At first your grief will be so overwhelming that you’ll be desperate for some relief. But don’t get hooked on painkillers (literally or figuratively). To stay fully alive, you have to walk through this valley. Really through it. There’s no healthy way around or over it. There’s no quick fix (which is almost impossible to accept in this fix-it world) – you just have to keep living one day at a time. It never goes away completely, but it gets so much better. I promise. Remember that God hates this more than you do. He’s on the kitchen floor with you.
Embrace your freedom to be. Your thoughts, passions, and time are no longer secondary to someone else’s. Enjoy the things you love that your ex disdained, or that you didn’t have time for when he was in your life. Cook (or don’t cook) whatever you want for dinner. Read an entire book. Drive out to a field just to look at the stars. Drink in the peace of knowing exactly what’s going on in your home, of being in the driver’s seat of your finances and your future. It’s all on you now, and that can be scary, but it’s also pretty awesome because you know you can trust yourself.
More than likely, you won’t be single forever (unless you really want to be, which is okay too). You’ll eventually meet a man who truly sees your value and won’t cringe away from your scars. Despite the evidence to the contrary, there are still a lot of good men in this world who have their priorities straight. And if you remain unacknowledged – if your ex’s opinion continues to stand as man’s last word on your worthiness – maybe it’s because God wants all the credit for His work in you. Maybe He doesn’t want to share it with a white knight. He doesn’t want any doubt that you and He are accomplishing this, alone, together. I don’t know why, but that’s the only comfort I’ve found.
This is the end, but it’s also the beginning. Whether you wanted it or not, you have something not everyone gets – a second chance. You can do this, and we’ll be cheering you on the whole way.
Love, Brenda
28 Comments + Posted in: divorce, empowerment