I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. Trying to fit it into a specific, narrowed-in situation and stepping back to see it from the view of the universe.
What does it really look like to forgive?
If you’d asked me a year ago, I probably would have given you a bible-belt answer polished with feigned humility. Something along the lines of, “Forgiveness means wishing the best for someone who has hurt you, whether or not they’ve apologized. And it means forgiving yourself.” Then I definitely would have added a, “but I don’t really know and sometimes wonder if I even know how to forgive.” You know what I’m talking about. The perfect response with a convenient self-deprecating addition that actually makes you look better?
The fear that you’re not supposed to be moving so quickly, so assuredly to an unforgiving landing. Uncertain if the land will leave you with breath in your lungs or intact bones in your legs. The release of the pressure that is standing, keeping yourself whole and unbroken and tall and strong. Vulnerable because you are no longer standing and strong, but defenseless to the ground that is rushing up to meet you with a smile of disaster.
Falling usually ends in breaking, in disaster, in needing to be fixed.
But sometimes falling is good. It’s fun, thrilling. When you fall out of an airplane and feel that rush of excitement in the bottom of your gut. When adrenaline is fire in your veins before you pull the string to release the parachute. Continue reading →
Being honest is immensely more difficult than being right.
Being honest is better than suffocating loneliness.
Being honest is just as important as being nice.
Being honest is better than being a broken mess.
Let’s get something clear: when I say “being honest” I am in NO way talking about being mean, or being unnecessarily harsh, or being a jerk and calling it “honesty.” Insulting people for no reason is not justified under the umbrella of “honesty.” In fact, I’m not even talking about being honest about other people. I’m talking about being honest to other people. Continue reading →
Discovering myself is one of my favorite things to do, no matter how untrue or lame it may be. Meyers briggs, Buzzfeed quizzes, deep conversations with people who know me well, no matter the form of discovery, I’ll enjoy it. The amount of quizzes titled “Decorate your dream apartment and we will tell you which disney princess you are” I’ve taken is honestly way too many to count. I know those are highly inaccurate and honestly stupid, but I enjoy them. I read the descriptions and nod at the sentences that are accurate and roll my eyes at the farfetched ones. (I’m Belle, in case any of you were wondering) Despite the unscientific, random aspects of the quizzes, they still help me discover who I am a bit more. And for the longest time, I had no idea who I was. Continue reading →
I have this thing going where I want to speak up for the voiceless and fight for the hopeless and make a difference. I want to end oppression and make privilege seen. And then while I’m sitting in Starbucks with a slight pain in my throat from getting a surgery that wasn’t necessary to my life thinking ‘maybe I could go to the doctor to get more medicine’ and ‘I’ll just go home and sit with my hardworking, loving parents to bring my mood up’ I start to wonder why I think I have the right to be the voice for the voiceless.
Is there a point where the privilege you didn’t ask for voids your attempt to speak up for the oppressed?
Will I ever truly understand the trials the people I’m fighting for go through?
Will anything ever change? Is anything worth it? Or should I just sit with my 4$ cup of coffee, watching my violent TV show and ignore the cries around me? Continue reading →
It has come to my attention that many of you, yes you, even if you don’t know who I am, have gone to other people to find out how I’m doing.
You can’t ask me yourself, so you have to ask my friends. Or my mom. Or I guess you could ask me, but I wouldn’t tell you.
You don’t actually want to know, do you? You just want to gossip. You want a spectacle. You want something/someone to point at and go ‘look at her life, it’s worse than mine.’ You want a story, to be entertained. That’s all you want, right? You don’t actually care about me. You’re not asking out of love. You’re not trying to honestly figure out how I’m doing because you care so why should you get to know? I won’t be your spectacle. I won’t be your gossip or your horror story.
But what I realized last night is maybe you actually do care. Maybe you actually do love me and you genuinely, honestly, want to know how I am.
I have an addictive personality. I firmly believe that if I had been born into different circumstances, with a different family, different values, and didn’t know the Lord, then I would be an extremely different person now. I would probably be addicted to all kinds of drugs, have no money to buy those drugs, and more unattractive things.
However, I was blessed enough to be born in the life I was born in. I was given the family I have and I’ve known the Lord since I was a kid.
But that doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t have an addictive personality.
Because I do.
I’m just not addicted to drugs or sex or alcohol. I’m addicted to other… weirder things. Continue reading →
“I forgot how many times that had been said to me. To touch people less. As I was a child I was told to stop hugging people as much.” –Zoe Mckinney.
One of the recent conversations I had with Zoe was about hugs. Touch. Intimacy. How important these things are. And how we have perverted such necessary parts of human life.
We teach kids at a young age that they have to keep their hands to themselves. Don’t hug your friends of the opposite gender too much because it’s considered flirting. We start sexualizing touch at a young age when we should really be teaching our children that touch is good and healthy, because it is. Touch is not sexual. Hugging, holding hands, physical intimacy is not sexual. Physical connection is a vital part of humanity. We need this connection with other humans. These things are not sexual acts. They are acts of intimacy and intimacy doesn’t have to be a sexual thing. Continue reading →