Today as I sat in my newly organized art studio I decided to look through some of my old note books and visual journals. I perused some of my sketches, seeing both progress and failure. Completed pieces and half finished ones that had been abandoned at the recognition of imminent failure to have them turn out the way I clearly envisioned. While looking though one particular sketch book, I came across two pieces of writing. As I sat and read what I had written nearly two years ago I was struck by my past self's desire to be painfully vulnerable but unable to share my feelings out loud. A persistent theme in my life is hating the "should's" that society places on all of us that we so willingly try to conform to. We try desperately to fit into this preconceived mould for our lives that was designed by the ever ominous "them". I rage at the thought of this but then try without ceasing to fold myself into the mould in any way I can which is often self destructive and deeply depressing when I can't fit. So as I read what I had written I felt a weightiness in the words that stirred in my soul a desire to make my vulnerability public in some way. In the social media driven world we live in, it can be dangerous to share anything. People's words, intentions, acts are scrutinized and torn apart by others without a second thought. We are quick to judge and tear down. We will attack anything and anyone that does not fit within the confines of what we deem as politically correct. We force the mould of society onto others, the same mould we know we can't fit into ourselves. There is less and less grace, compassion, and walking in community with each other. I don't know if it is a mentality of I will strike out at others before they can strike me down, if we are so insecure in our short comings that we feel we must expose others flaws, or we straight up believe the lies in our worlds. What I do know is that whatever the reason, the sickness of individual before the whole, the constant struggling to live the instagram or pinterest worthy life so others will say "Wow, look at them, they have it all together" is killing the joy of walking side by side with each other through the mess. It is creating a false atmosphere of should's, one where putting out an image of "perfect" is more important than saying "I'm wonderfully imperfect and I need a community of people to support me". I don't know how to fix this, but I do know that I have a burning deep in my soul to see a world where we love each other with a selfless and compassionate love. Where we stop our need to feel bigger than someone else and realize that we are all flawed and broken and that walking together, supporting one another can lead to greater trust and healing. It is because of this desire that I am posting my two written pieces that I came across in my journals. Maybe someone can relate to my words or maybe it will cause us to stop and think about what another person might be going through before we make a snap judgement. There is joy to be found if we only let down our guard and welcome it in. The Struggle Is... The struggle is the heavy weight of darkness enveloping my mind. The swirling vortex of deafening whispers pulling, grabbing, scratching away at my thoughts. Cracking through the thin wall of false hope I have built out of tissue paper confidence. Blind hope that the voices, the menacing name callers, are gone for good. The disillusioned sense of accomplishment that I have won the battle for my easily swayed mind. The struggle is facing the haunting possibilities that, maybe, the words, the accusations, the murmurs are true. Maybe I am worthless, trapped, dumb, no good. Maybe I am a horrible wife and friend. Maybe the cry of "I CAN'T!" is crushingly true and I should give up, let go, hide. The weight grows. The voices continue to bludgeon my mind until I am crawling through the mud of numb indifference. Caked in the thick grime of self hate I can't wash off. I look at the lives of others with a longing to have what they have. To smile with genuine joy. But my faith and hope are fragile, delicate and easily shattered. Still, I cling to the fragmented memory of a warrior's bold faith, praying this is not my fate. But, for now, here in the mud I lay, inching ever forward because the embers of determination have not yet been extinguished by icy words that hammer in my mind. If this is the valley I must crawl through, so be it. The struggle is to persevere, to endure so that one day I can rise and say, "The struggle is no more" Perfect
Perfect. A great promise. A monumental lie. Perfect; a trap, a cruel master with a haunting smile. It promises beauty, freedom, mastery. Everything you ever hoped or wished for. It's a dream of what could be, what should be. So you strive, you push, you climb trying to gain ground. Repeating to yourself "one day" as if uttering the phrase over and over will bring you closer to the throne room of 'perfect' where you can finally revel in having it all figured out. Where people will finally look at you and say "well done!" But the mesmerizing dream quickly turns into a dark and brooding nightmare that you can't escape. Running but not moving. Losing your hand hold and tumbling back into the black abyss of failure. What seemed beautiful at first now claws at your sanity, attempting to tear you apart from the inside out. A silent scream escapes your lips, don't let anyone know you are disintegrating within. Admitting your journey has failed will bring up the 'I told you's', the looks of disgust and the raging whisper of 'just give up already'. But you can't. The thought of perfect keeps calling like an addiction. You try again, fail... try... fail... try... lose. 'You're beaten! Stay down' you shout to your pitiful mind. Where does it end? Will there ever be freedom? Why is the promise of perfection scattered across our minds like paper blown by the wind? What is the trick? What do I have to do to live the dream? Destroy my body? My mind? My relationships? My marriage? No... LIVE! Accept the truth that perfect is an illusion. Learn to delight in what you are capable of doing now, knowing that trying is always an option and that failure is a process, not the end. Accept who you are and how you were designed. Learn to love the talents and gifts you have been given. Sit in the joy that you are loved beyond your flaws and imperfections! Love the mess.
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