Showing posts with label not being scared. Show all posts
Showing posts with label not being scared. Show all posts

Monday, December 10, 2012

Scaredy Cat, No More.

"Men [as opposed to boys] know what they want and they don't let you in on their inner monologue, and that is scary." -Mindy Kaling

Or for this Girl, used to be scary.

I found myself saying to a friend the other day that I just wished that So and So could have seen the old me; the scared, non-committal, skiddish me. (I wanted 'Ol So and So, who had wrongfully judged my intentions, to be fully aware that the new me is still very new.) My friend responded by rolling her eyes and said, "Yeah, you've come a long way! You used to be scared to commit to a parking space for fear of being blocked in at a party where we both knew you would end up sleeping on the couch."

It was an embarrassingly true statement. I used to be scared. Of everything, including (but not limited to) parking spaces, lunch decisions and commitment to relationships of any kind. When I got my first (and only) tattoo my friends who accompanied me to the parlor, probably to make sure I didn't back out, kept chattering on about their first tattoos and how they couldn't wait to be under the needle again. All I could think about was how many hours I would have to work before I could afford laser tattoo removal. I don't think I had that one-inch by one-inch tattoo longer than 10 minutes before I started inwardly panicking about its permanence.

Today, however, I am a different girl. One might say I've graduated from girl to woman. Although, I hate that word "woman". It sounds like I should be wearing pantyhose and a dress suit everyday. I blame commercials from the 80's. They really warped my little brain into thinking that all grown, confident women must wear suit jackets, shoulder pads and own an abundance of hosiery while having developed a very mature palette for diet soda and low-fat yogurt. I don't drink soda and I usually hate the taste of any food labeled low-fat.

Anyway, lately I've felt confused by my most recent relationship that appeared to be with a man, who at times acted like he was an old man, but was in fact with a boy. I've been remembering conversations we had that, in retrospect, were orange flags. (I would say red flags, but they weren't deal breaker conversations like him saying he wanted to ultimately live on a commune someday. Just things that should have signaled to me that he was not ready to take the next step.) And today I finally made sense of all those things that were said. Today I realized why that last guy wasn't going to work out, at least not yet. I want a man and apparently have wanted one for some time. I thought I had accidentally stumbled into a dating relationship with a man only to find out that he was just a boy parading around in a grown man's life, wearing all the right clothes, saying almost all the right things and acting like he was ready for retirement. And that's ok. He will get there someday.

But I'm not talking about possibilities in the next 3 years. I'm talking about today. I want someone who knows what he wants, doesn't feel the need to constantly fill me in on his every waking move so that he can hear himself say it to make sure it sounds right, and who isn't afriad to go after all those things he truly knows he wants to have in his life.

That idea would have sent the old me running scared in the opposite direction, but it doesn't scare the new me. Not one bit.



Saturday, September 22, 2012

Lessons in Learning How To Rest, Part Thirteen.

Lesson Thirteen: Choose Joy. And peace, while you're at it!

I woke up this morning and immediately dove head first into reading. Not my usual choice. I'm more of a news watcher while curled up in a ball on the couch with a cup of something hot in my hands kind of morning person. I can only assume I had been wrestling with my own thoughts in my sleep, because when I woke this morning I didn't have much recollection of my dreams or a to-do list on my mind. Today I had only questions plaguing me from the moment my eyes fluttered open. After plowing through multiple study books, I realized that I have become "comfortable" in this season of restoration. (Yes, those quotations are meant to be there.) I've become as comfortable as one can be when shoved between a jagged rock and a brick wall covered in barbed wire.

I don't exactly remember choosing joy in this season, though. I remember decidedly muscling through a difficult and painful time. I can also recall choosing to laugh every now and then in the face of adverse situations. But choosing joy....well, that wasn't too high on the list this year. In fact, I very distinctly remember choosing to be cross with this particular phrase. My inner scrolling ticker of thoughts has been more prone to notions like this, "You choose joy, jerk. I'll choose cutting phrases and undermining wit!"

Bitter and Cynical, party of one!

And then I read something this morning about petitions in a higher place being made on behalf of us mere mortals when we aren't able to make them for ourselves. And I suddenly realized why I was able to find a resting spot in this heavy-laden and wearisome time. I didn't find it. It was a gift. And for the girl who isn't normally a fan of having decisions made for her didn't really care all that much this time. When it has felt for an extended amount of time that all hope is lost or that the proverbial shit has hit the fan, it's so nice to wake up with a slight grin on your face, hope in your heart and total peace about what's to come.

So, instead of looking this gift horse in the mouth, this City Girl is choosing the joy that has been decided for her. And she's gonna grab that peace that defies all logic while she can!