Messy parts

I’m new to wordpress. I’m still trying to figure it all out, how to navigate my way around, how to imbed media, add my photos and change certain fonts etc. My writings usually begin with all my thoughts vomiting out on the page without any censorship on my part, before I edit and publish them. Basically, my drafts are full of mistakes and well… pretty messy.

Just before I wrote this, I thought my blog was live for public viewing, when it wasn’t. I googled my name and the blog was there to be found, (just because I was on this computer.) I bolted down stairs and asked Fab to check on his computer to see if my blog was live, it wasn’t. But in that brief moment I thought my blog was live and open for everyone to see my unfinished, unedited, imperfect drafts, I went into panic. I could have ignored the minor panic attack that lasted no more than 60 seconds, but Fab reminded me of what Mary often says, “Sweat the small stuff!”

In order to avoid the feeling that first got exposed, I panicked. Panic is an avoidance of feeling and softening into the initial real fear that was present. What was I so afraid of? You see, I care that you see me messy. I’m scared that if you truly see my scrappy notes, drafts, and raw material without the pretty embellishments that you will judge me and inevitable reject me.

Even to my intimate friends, such as yourself, I want to hide and refrain from exposing myself. Truth is, I am messy. I am scared. I am not a confidant writer and never have been. I have no public image, no twitter, instagram and other social media. I very recently opened a Facebook account after 6 years for school purposes. I only have two friends on FB, one being Fab, and never add a status or post replies or comment on anything. I have refrained from sharing myself because I didn’t want to maintain a certain image of myself, you know those happy “My life is so awesome!” photos, and was basically scared shitless to just be myself.

About 8 years ago I loved Facebook. I had a lot of “friends,” and “likes,” and had what you’d call a “socially acceptable,” facade. Here’s a flashback from that time.

 

 

In my facade I wanted you to believe that I was happy, fun, cool, confidant and easy going without a care in the world. I played that part well, so well in fact that at times I believed it was true, but hardly anyone knew just how messy I felt inside. Deep in my inner world I felt something inside me was so wrong. I just felt so bad about myself and so scared, so empty and extremely frustrated. I would often fall on my knees crying that my inner life just didn’t feel right. That I didn’t feel like me. That I wasn’t being me. I’d travelled all across the world in the hope of finding some inner peace, finding some cure that would make me feel normal inside, but it was all in vain. I couldn’t run away from myself and I couldn’t go anywhere to find myself. Nothing could take away the pain inside, because I didn’t want to really see just how inauthentic I was. I didn’t want anyone to see the real Laura and reveal just how messy and not together I was.

Jesus helped me the most in this process of realizing just how distant I was from the real me. He calls a spade a spade, and he called me a spade! No matter what, I could not hide from him. I didn’t want him to see how yucky, dirty, shameful and fake I really was. In fact, I almost kicked and screamed trying to uphold my façade in front of him. I could not for the life of me make him believe that I was not ‘messy.’ I wanted him to believe that I had my shit together and was quite impressive, if I say so myself. It was dismantling and shattering that a person could see my absolute messiness and express them so accurately with no trace of judgment.

It’s like this; imagine you’re trying to impress an important person and they are coming over to stay in your home. You know you’re going to clean the bathroom, the kitchen, their room, even your own room and do a general clean of the whole house. Naturally you want to give a good impression. That’s what I was taught by my parents. You make the effort to clean up and make your home presentable for guests. Well imagine now that your guest shows up unexpectedly a week early. Oh the shame! You’d probably say in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry the house is such a mess. I didn’t expect you so early. I haven’t made your bed or cleaned the house. I feel so bad. I’m so sorry.” Basically you’re dying inside. You just can’t hide your mess and all your shit is all over the floor for him to see and presumably judge. More often though, the guest doesn’t even care, but we judge ourselves and it triggers all our shame.

Well this is what I felt like with Jesus and my façade. I wanted to present the clean, organised home, the spick and span and sparkly home that everyone felt comfortable in. I wanted to maintain control of this image with everything I had. Metaphorically speaking, Jesus would say, “Laura your socks on the floor that haven’t been washed for years, there’s mould in the shower, the toilet is full of stains, and your clothes are all over the place. The truth is you’re messy and you’re trying to hide it. Just admit that you’re messy and get real about it. You can always choose to clean it all up, but nothing can change without first acknowledging and stating the truth of your current condition.” Due to my childhood injuries and emotional filters though, I hear the comment more like this, “Laura, your messy room reflects just how dirty and horribly untidy you really are. You should be ashamed of yourself. It’s actually really hard and uncomfortable to be around you because you stink!”

It took me a few years to understand and feel that he was just telling me the truth, like calling a spade a spade. He was expressing the truth to me with a loving intention and there were no feelings in him of wanting to pull me down. It was only due to my childhood experience of constantly being made to feel bad about myself, that I just automatically assumed that whenever someone pointed out my messy parts, that it was a personal attack and love would be withheld from me.

I don’t want to cheat you, or myself, by not being me. I don’t want to pretend I’m something I’m not. I just really want to share myself without editing my ‘messy parts’. As they say, be myself, warts and all.

 

See you in 5min!


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