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My twenties have pretty much been synonymous with self-discovery. I keep peeling back layers of my inner being and not really liking what I see.
You know… the perfectionism
my habit of blaming others for my emotions
Among so many other things.
And over the last few months, there is another thing about myself I’ve discovered:
There is nothing that I hate more – nothing that hurts me more – than being misunderstood.
When I was in college, I was grossly misunderstood and falsely accused. Not so much about my actions – but about my intentions. The scars from that day go very deep, and I only now can see how deep.
Having people mis-judge my intentions based on my actions drives me to levels of rage that I’m ashamed of. I will often awake in the middle of the night realizing I’ve been screaming at people in my dreams – not because I’m angry at them but because I just want them to hear me and understand me.
I can tell myself that it’s God that knows my heart – but somehow there’s a disconnect between that knowledge and how I feel.
I want so desperately to be heard and understood and not be misjudged.
Which, in reality – could be said this way:
I want to be able to control what people think of me.
So I explain. And explain some more. And defend.
I know that my choices are my choices and the only person I need to please with those choices is God, but when someone says something demonstrating that they simply don’t understand my choices I feel this intense need to clarify and explain and defend.
Yesterday, on both my blog’s Facebook page and my personal Facebook page, I wrote a micro-blog defending some of our personal choices in regard to family planning and stewardship. It was my way of fleshing out some thoughts, combating ideology I had been taught as a teenager, trying to make people use their brains and think about certain things more logically…yeah, it was all of that.
But it was also a cry to be understood.
Because I was taught that people who plan their families are either selfish or faithless or both and I don’t want people to think that me and my husband are those things. Because no one really has a clue how hard this has been for us, for me, how much we have wrestled with God about it, and how much I have had to lay down what I want over and over again.
But I suppose it doesn’t really matter.
People are going to think about me what they are going to think about me and I can’t control that.
Learning to be okay with that is a process. A long painful process with lots of mistakes along the way. I’ve already made a lot of those mistakes (I was told as much about my “real mom myth” post) and I’m sure I will make more in the future.
So what I’m asking of you – family, friends, and readers – is this:
forgiveness for me always trying to control what you think of me
grace when I forget and keep trying (because I’m probably gonna)
and patience in the process…
…because, I’m still in my 20s and there’s a lot about life I’m trying to figure out right now. And I’m insistent on learning those things the hard way.
Thanks and Love Always,