The way grizzly bears are more like fire flies.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about what love looks like. And how often that word carries with it the weight of a thousand definitions and reasons and complications. Too often we make love selfish, and wear it on our wrists like a fashion statement, when love is the most beautiful, astounding thing I have ever seen. Someone who is really attempting to live a life full of love–now that is truly a sight to behold, because once you really begin to try to love the way love should really happen, your heart becomes a wellspring. It’s indescribable. 

I just think of the inside of a person who is learning to fight is a nighttime in summer. Within lies all the potential and greatness, floating around as lightening bugs, waiting for the moment they can pour out of their mouth and shine. 

Last night I learned a powerful lesson. It was a difficult lesson, but I knew something was changing inside of me the moment I chose to find peace instead of anger at the position I had been placed in. Let me explain. I was working my job in retail and a woman that has been known to cause trouble in our store came in last night. Generally speaking, she’s downright mean and bitter. Nothing you say will calm her down or make her compliment you. She just gets a rise out of her harshness. I am definitely not one for confrontations. Especially from people I don’t know. Last night, she unloaded on me, big time. Her ranting and raving lasted for quite some time. But something inside of me screamed louder than anger and told me to bite my tongue, stand up for myself a little in a kind manner, and let it go. 

After she left I was kind of overwhelmed. As the minutes ticked on, however, I wasn’t angry, I felt sorry for her. I had seen her in our store before. She looks lonely and miserable. And honestly, as I began to ponder the circumstances for her arrival last night, I began feeling regrettably empathetic towards her plight. 

I have been addicted to watching the show Hoarders for quite a while. I quite enjoy psychology, and comprehending the reasons behind the way people behave when they have had difficult challenges in their life. One of the things that is a common theme in the reason why I have observed people hoarding is their desire to keep people out. They have been repetitively wounded in various ways for so long, that in their desperate attempt to deal with the pain, they hoard stuff that is useless to build barriers between themselves and other people. That at least the objects would love them always, that it would be there when they cried. That happiness could be found in another sack of papers or useless shirts. But no matter what they could somehow manage to find peace in something that couldn’t hurt them. It’s not that they didn’t want people in their life, because honestly most of the time the stars of these shows are so lonely you can see their breaking heart worn in the crooked way they smile. They are just so damn afraid of letting anyone in that could hurt them, that they feel keeping then out is the only way. 

And this is exactly what I felt about this woman last night. It was like she had been wearing the weight of generations of pain and all of these traumatic things that had happened to her in the direction of her step, in the cut of her words, in the bite of her anger. There is one thing I have really learned these past few months, and it is that most of the time, that anger is all a front. It keeps the people out. Anger does a good job of scaring others to stay away. It’s a defense mechanism. It happens when we are afraid to see or deal with what we are capable of inside, when we don’t comprehend that healing can happen. 

When I started thinking about the incident after, all I could do was be humbled by the prospect that she is still in the darkness with a blindfold, feeling around the cave. Something settled on my heart and made me feel stunningly aware that anger was not the appropriate response. Love will bring light. Pray for your enemies. Smile when it’s hard. And for goodness sakes, be brave. Love is never easy, but it’s worth it. I will probably not change her, but she changed me. Even if it was just because she was angry for the millionth time. 

Like I say, there really is beauty in everything you see. 

Until next time,

Rosie

I’m fessing up, I’m stuck in an emotional rut.

Okay, I’m going to come right out and say it. I’ve been really struggling lately. Struggling with the fact that I feel like I’m trapped. I know that there are all of these big things in the future in store for us. I also feel like God has been giving me all of these challenges because he wants me to grow so that he can give me the next big things he has planned for me. I’m trying to cling on to my faith, but all I want to do is crawl under a rock and scream. I know He has the bigger picture figured out but I’m sick of this. I’m sick of everything. 

I need someone to talk to about all of this, but it’s so personal and that’s what makes it even more difficult, because I don’t want to open up. Prayer has power, I try to utilize it when I can, but it feels like it only gets me so far as a person. I don’t even know what I’m hoping to get out of this post. I don’t want people running to me begging me to tell them what’s up because they want to get my back. I don’t even know what to say if I tried to talk about it. I just know that I’ll have two or three really good happy days, and then I’m back to wanting to bawl my eyes out. I feel so unstable sometimes, and some days so weak. I know I am strong when He is with me, but where do I find power to overcome the constant, nagging emotions when I can’t find mind control to calm the internal seas? Who do I talk to about the way I’m feeling without feeling like I’m going to be mocked for my emotions. 

Honestly? I feel as a woman, being emotional is something I hate. I don’t want to feel like a rollercoaster all the time. I want to be a stable person. I’m sick of the overwhelming sense that I cannot control how I feel, or the ten different ways I want to react when I’m upset, which is usually some desperate combination of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness. Does being a woman automatically render me psychotic when I’m emotional? Probably. (Yep, I just sounded misogynistic when I said that I’m sure). 

I know I’m rambling, but somehow this is making me feel a little better. I’m aimlessly wandering. I know He wants to rid me of the American dream, but is it so bad that I want to dye my hair, live in my own house, not be 40 by the time I have children, and maybe do a little bit of traveling. I can’t live here much longer. I need adventure. I know He has to be preparing me for this in some way. It’s the only way I can hang on some days, when work is so shitty I don’t know what to do with myself. I know there is light at the end of the tunnel, I am not without some form of hope. 

There might be a few desperate months ahead, though.