Learning to Trust... again.

Being in a relationship again is a little bit like getting back on a horse after being thrown. I would imagine. I've never actually been thrown from a horse. But from what I hear, it seems to be the same kind of situation.

You ride the horse. Everything is fine. Then something happens; the horse tosses you off and runs away. You fall in the mud and hurt yourself. Bleeding, bruised, and with some wounded pride you follow the horse for a while, trying to catch it, but you finally give up and head back to the stables.

You hate the horse for a while. As you well should. It's a stupid horse. If it was any kind of decent horse, it would have known how to treat you. You deserve a better horse-- one that knows what you need.

And then the doubt starts creeping in. Maybe you're just not a good enough rider. Maybe you could have held on tighter. Maybe something YOU did spooked the horse. A better rider, one with a talent for riding, would have stayed on.

But after a while, you come to terms with it. I mean, everyone who's ridden regularly has been thrown, right? It's all a part of the learning process. Life. Your scrapes heal, your bruises slowly disappear.

And then one day, you see it. A beautiful chestnut stallion. A majestic creature. One, you think, that would look so much better with you on its back. You're older now, and wiser. You know more about horses now. You can handle it. Certainty creeps in slowly.

You are ready to get back on the horse.

And so you approach it slowly. You let it see you, so you don't get kicked in the face. You caress its nose. You talk to it, make it like you. And once you've convinced it that you are not dangerous, you put your foot in the stirrup, swing your body up, and land square in the saddle.

Doesn't it feel good to be up there again? You and the horse-- it's meant to be! As you sit there stroking its mane, you can't imagine being happier. You're back on the horse again!

But riding a horse entails movement. You can't just sit on it. That's not riding. And this is where the trouble comes. Now you have to prove your bravado. And that might be the hardest part of all. This horse is different. You don't know its quirks or ticks. It might be a psycho horse. Suddenly all your doubts come flying back. What if this horse is nuts? What if it's not well-trained? What if you're just a terrible rider? Doubt turns to fear.

You have to trust the horse to obey you, to do what you tell it to, and not to throw you again.

You can probably draw your own conclusions here. The analogy breaks down here and there, but it's pretty transparent. Learning to trust again after a heartbreak may be the toughest job of all. Many relationships fail because one partner doesn't trust the other.

For me, it's the realm of boundaries. In every relationship I've ever been in, boundaries have been set near the beginning. And subsequently crossed soon thereafter. Guilt and long serious talks ensue. "Sorry, we shouldn't have done that." "I got carried away." "I couldn't help myself." Always the same.

So in order to prevent these long awkward talks, I've sort of made myself the relationship Narc. Subtly changing the mood, looking away, creating space, to protect either party from the feeling of guilt that goes with crossing boundaries.

And now, without realizing it, I find myself playing that role again. In previous relationships, I set the boundaries. And in the latest one, they were set for us by an outside party to which we were accountable. Something's different this time, though. They're not my boundaries. This time, my wonderful K.i.S.A. set them. He has a plan, a philosophy. And I like the way he's thinking.

But I realize now that I'm having trouble trusting him to stick to it. They're his rules, but I am still trying to be the relationship Narc. Still trying to protect us both. And that's not my job.

So as I dive into this new relationship, with two unique, dynamic individuals both sporting our scars from previous heartbreaks, I have to relearn how to trust someone. I have to avoid taking charge, which my personality makes difficult. I wish it was easier, but it's a daily struggle.

When you've been thrown in the mud, it's always tough to get back in that saddle again.

Fog

The clouds cover the mountain.
The cold bites me
under my skin.
The brisk air fills my head
freezes my brain
just for a second.

The clouds, wispy clouds, cover the mountain
like a blanket
tucking in a tired child.
I can't see the top
or where I'm going.

The clouds cover the mountain.
They hush the world.
I am alone
with the cars driving by
with the joggers trotting along
with the dog walkers.

The clouds cover the mountain
and even though I can't see
I know you're out there,
somewhere,
thinking of me.

Ritual

I've thought for some time now that the little things we do, the little habits we have, the routines we repeat over and over... those are the things that keep us sane.

My perfect example is drying off after a shower. Think about it... you probably do exactly the same thing every time. Now, in the past year, I have used at least 5 different showers. But my dry-off pattern is exactly the same. Face first, then neck. Wrap a small towel around my hair. Left arm, Right arm, Left leg (step out), Right leg (step out), wrap towel around and tuck in on right side.

Life is so unpredictable. We can control so very little of it. Our little habits are the things that we can control. Brushing my teeth. I've been doing it pretty much the same way for years. The same thing. Every day. Washing my face. My morning routine.

Yesterday I told my roommate I was going to take a nap in the afternoon, so I went to my room. She walked by a few minutes later and saw me reading. "Thought you were going to take a nap?" she said. "I am," said I. To her, taking a nap means lying down and going to sleep. To me, it means reading myself to sleep. Every night when I go to bed, I read for a bit before turning off the light. I've been doing this since I was a little kid. Now, I'm not sure if I can fall asleep without reading for a bit.

I think this is why marriage can be so tough at the beginning. You're having to adjust to someone else's routine. Someone else's rituals. Sometimes the rituals can conflict.

I noticed this when my roommate and I moved into an apartment with only one bathroom. Our morning routines had to be rethought, because we were infringing on each other's bathroom time. Now we have a sort of schedule worked out, but it's going to require me to get a vanity so I can do my morning prep in my room and not in the bathroom.

I like my routines. I like the way I do things. I like that no one is telling me how I should do things. But I'm also glad that my parents taught me some of these habits, because sometimes I realize that though the way I go about doing things is counterintuitive, it is also a lot more organized and sensical than what I would have done without the training.

Notice also the emphasis on tradition in the Bible. The Jewish holidays have meticulously-planned rituals of celebration. And everything has a meaning. Even the things not precisely described in the Bible have value: a devotional time (in the morning) when we read the Bible, meditate, pray. A workout routine is specifically designed to be the most beneficial for that person's body. And if the person deviates from it, he can undo his hard work or even injure himself.

Now, none of this is to say that we can't change our rituals if we see the need to, or if we have a change of heart. We certainly can. And we should. We wouldn't be true to ourselves if we didn't.

I spend weekends with my K.i.S.A. Our work schedules conflict sometimes, but I am free on weekends, and so we spend Friday evening, Saturday, and Sunday lunch together. Including Tuesday night Bible Study, those are the only times we get to see one another, usually. So, I've had to change my weekend routine to suit. And that's fine.

One of my favorite things about him is that I can talk to him about anything and everything. And we do talk about a lot of different things. A standard conversation can begin with "Definition of a head cold" and morph through quantum physics, English grammar, and deep opinions on holidays.

So I've been thinking about what traditions I want to cultivate. His opinion has been important to me for several years now, and even more so now. We sometimes have differing opinions, but not very often.

I know this: Thanksgiving is very important to me. But the turkey and the yams and the mashed potatoes are not that important. When I was a little kid, my family would go up to the mountains every Thanksgiving and have a picnic. We haven't done that in years, but I have wonderful nostalgic memories of it.

And Christmas... Christmas Eve is important to me. More than Christmas Day, but that's because we're German.

The pint is, Pip, that we have these routines, these rituals, these traditions, for a reason. The help us navigate our way through the insanity of life. And that's a good thing.

Trajectory

Am I a fraud? I don't know. I feel like my opinions are all just tripe in the light of someone who actually knows what they're talking about. I feel like I have been fooling myself. Maybe I'm not as honest as I claim. I'm as honest as I can be with other people, but not with myself at the root of my being. I try to have intelligent opinions, and I alienate people at the expense of being a social rebel.

Something's wrong with the way the world sees things. And I think most of us can agree that something's wrong with the way the Church sees things too. So, I tried to make up for it by forming opinions which are different.

But I missed the mark, too. And this is what hurts me. I thought that I was forming intelligent opinions about issues, when really I was just protecting myself from being too vulnerable. I didn't even want me to see what's really inside. I am hiding from myself.

I don't want to be one of those women who loses her personality to the man she's with. I don't want to lose my identity because, for the first time in my life, I actually like myself. Yes, sometimes I'm bitter, sarcastic, and jaded, but other times I'm more hopeful, funny, and lucid than anyone you've ever met. And I'm okay with that. I'd prefer to lose some of the bitterness, and God is working in me to be more empathic; less detached.

So here's the bottom line: I have no idea what I want.

Except that I do. 1 Peter 2:17 sums it up. Here it is from The Message: "Treat everyone you meet with dignity. Love your spiritual family. Revere God. Respect the government." It really is that simple. This is what I want.

When I die, I hope that this is what people say about me. That I treated everyone with dignity. That I loved the Church. That I revered God. And that I was a good citizen, respecting the government and taking a stand when necessary.

A long night of tossing and turning followed by a morning of verbal and written processing brings me to this end: that whatever God is doing in my life, it is THE BEST.

Even when it's hard or painful or irritating or heart-rending. Even when I'm not following Him. Everything He does in my life is for my own Good, and for His Glory. Which makes it the Best. As C.S. Lewis put it, God is "making us into the type of person that He wants". And can we really ask for more?

But to remind yourself constantly that God's Best is in the works for you takes an immense faith. A faith which I'm not sure I know very well. The following is a quote from a blog that I found (overduehappiness.blogspot.com):

What is this elusive thing called faith?

If I have seen the sun rise above the mountains over and over again, and I believe that the sun will continue to rise above the mountains every single day - is that faith?

If I have never seen the sun rise above the mountains, but I am told and I firmly believe that the sun will, eventually, rise above the mountains - is that faith?

If I have lived in a world of darkness my whole life, never knowing any better, and am told about light and colours and all beautiful things seen, and then despairingly, achingly, anxiously wait for the sun to rise above the mountains because I need it, I want it to rise - is that faith?

When will the day break?

And yet, I know all things happen for a reason with the God who loves us more than we can imagine or know or dream.

So now I know that God is forming my life to make me into what He wants. And He asks me simple things. "Follow me." "Sell your possessions." "Feed my sheep." These are all very simple, but never easy. Never, ever easy. They will always force me to confront the things that my culture tells me are true, since our cultures all have it backward.

But when I Know God truly, and I Trust Him with my Life, then I can never be a Fraud. I can only be the most Authentic version of myself possible.

Therefore, I am.

Mistakes...

"I thought that Love was only true in Fairy Tales.
Meant for someone else, but not for me.
Love was out to get me,
That's the way it seemed.
Disappointment haunted all my dreams"
-The Monkees

I've been learning something about myself. I'm learning that when I feel insecure about something, I get jaded. And I act jaded, to protect myself, and to let other people know that I'm okay. I'm fine. Really.


But a few months ago, someone saw through me. I was on one of my cynical rants about the lies that the Church tells us about there being only one person out there that's "meant for you". It bothered me for several reasons. But then my dear friend looked me in the eye, and said, "I believe there's someone out there who's perfect for you."


That cut me to the core. I was upset at first, because he said it in front of other people, and I didn't want to be exposed before them. But then the ache settled, and I realized that I wasn't really upset. Not really. I was afraid. I myself didn't believe what he said. I didn't want to believe something that might not come true-- something that would disappoint me.


But as I've been thinking about it lately, I came to realize something that I never saw before. A blatant, ugly error that has warped my thinking since I was a little girl. I have Fairy Tale Syndrome.


An entire generation of girls (maybe more than one, now) has grown up watching the Disney Princess story. You know it: Boy meets girl, they fall in love. Evil comes between them. boy vanquishes evil, gets girl. They live happily ever after.


And I was looking for that in my life. I was creating drama (without really noticing, for a while) in the hopes that some Prince on a white horse would come and rescue me from my fabricated distress. And every time it didn't happen, I got a little more hopeless.


But here's the thing: Disney got it wrong. In fact, all of Hollywood's got it wrong. The whole world has it wrong. Because they're looking for truth, beauty, fulfillment in another person. This whole idea of finding "The One" stems from a desire to exchange "the glory of immortal God for images resembling mortal man..."


And this is where our Fairy Tale obsession comes from. When we push God out of our love lives, we replace Him with what we hope and dream is fulfillment, but what in reality can only lead to dark disappointment.


So, when I am being jaded, that's really fear. Look at the girls in the movies. They never do anything to make the guys fall in love with them. It just happens (with the exception of Mulan, which strictly speaking was not really a Princess tale, but more of a Feminist Manifesto. But I digress). I am afraid that I lack some innate quality that women are supposed to have to make a man a mumbling fool around them. That I'm not pretty enough, or feminine enough, or... something.


Moreover, there is a deeper fear. This is where I dare not go. This, for me, is delving "too greedily, and too deep". I fear awakening in the darkness a creature of Shadow and Flame within my soul, a creature who admits that I am simply not capable of sustaining that kind of love. True Love.


But I, also am wrong.


There is a "Deeper Magic, from Before The Dawn of Time." And it is this:

"It's your kindness, Lord, that leads us to repentance;
Your favor, Lord, that satisfies.
It's Your beauty, Lord, that makes us stand in silence,
and Your love, Your love... is better than life."

Todd Agnew set me straight. Boy + Girl cannot possibly equal eternal happiness. Because neither of them is strong enough to sustain it. But Boy + God + Girl can equal that, because God is Love. God is the Sustainer.


God gives us the Power of Love.

In all seriousness...

I love a good joke.

If you know me at all, you know that stupid jokes are my favorite. You know the ones. The punchline meets you broadside and even though you could see it coming, you still roll your eyes and smile.

Usually, if I hear a joke like that I will laugh out loud. I love dumb jokes, especially those having to do with some geeky head knowledge. I tell my students science jokes, and it helps them remember the material. They all know what a neutron is, because when it walked into a bar and ordered its drink, the bartender said, "For you, no charge."

So anyway, I like laughing, and I especially enjoy laughing with good friends. And I believe you can tell a lot about a person through humor.

I used to say that anything said in sarcasm is in fact the truth, but the speaker is too chicken to just say what they mean. So they run to sarcasm, knowing that if the idea is rejected, they can claim it was a joke. But it wasn't. So I pay close attention to sarcasm, sardonism, and other ways people communicate in order to learn about them.

But nothing is more telling than a belly laugh. You know the type. The doubled-over, open-mouth, closed-eyes, can't-hardly-breathe laugh. When you see this, it's a treasure. And depending on the cause of the laugh, it's very telling.

Because here's the thing: you can't fake a belly laugh. And I like sincerity. I don't like dishonesty and I don't like nebulousness. It makes me a little crazy. But sincerity is refreshing. It's like breathing in the ocean for the first time after living in a polluted city. It's the smell of trees after diesel exhaust. It's a glass of cool water on a hot day. A warm bath when it's raining out. Sincerity is one of the most desirable traits I can imagine.

Now, you may not know this about me, but I used to be a chronic liar.

No, it's true.

There was a time in my life where I could not go but a few minutes without telling a lie. I told lies compounded by lies, mostly because I believed that I wasn't naturally interesting enough to carry on a conversation and I had to try harder.

And then one day, I was trying to tell a story, and I realized that I had lied about it so often that I no longer remembered the truth. The memory of the lie had replaced it. And to this day I can't remember what really happened in that story. But when I came to that point, I got scared. I was actually changing my memories with my lies. So I decided to stop lying.

But it wasn't easy.

I would catch myself in the middle of a lie and have to go back and start over. This was pretty embarrassing. It took me a while. But now I can (honestly) say that I don't tell lies like that anymore. I am a reformed liar.

And this is why I value sincerity so much. And why I choose friends that I find sincere. And why I detest people that seem plastic.

Without wax. It's the way to go.