Deep breath. It has taken me the longest time to formulate this post. It is something I am still trying so hard to work through. Loneliness and Isolation are evil twins that only bring pain. Let's back up...
I have a strong desire to be understood. I think that is why if you ask me how I am, you might find yourself getting a really long answer. Maybe if I tell you everything I know about me you will get me. Far fetched?
When we were kids no one in the house was allowed to use the word "weird," no matter what it was you were talking about. I was very sensitive about the word because it was used about me one too many a time. Even though it was meant in jest I didn't like the idea of being unusual. I really didn't like the idea of people talking about me out of ignorance and assuming things without really knowing me. I was desperate to wear glasses or retainers or break a leg because I thought that was normal.
You must be chuckling a little right?
My life has been pretty unusual by todays standards.
TO start: My parents have stayed married, even through really hard years.
My spouse and I had not only never dated anyone else, we were virgins when we got married.
I was married 3 months after high school graduation, the only married dancer I knew in college.
Stayed in college while pregnant and took my baby with me to school for a year.
on and on...
As the Leading Actor in our own movie we usually feel like all eyes are on us but I felt that at times I really was a different color than everyone else. Though it wasn't until I opened the dance studio that I really realized I was going to have to be okay with being criticized, very likely misunderstood, talked about. It's only natural. I am sure it happens to all teachers of different kinds. You are being evaluated for better or worse. I was thinking this last week that someday if I am not a dance teacher (wwaaa don't even go there) maybe someday I will just be another person again. And then it hit me, my husband is going to be a priest... we will always be talked about. Likely to be misunderstood.
Not everyone has to know my every thought.
I have verbalized almost every feeling I have had to some close friend or another and yet it isn't enough, even with My Love as much as he tries he cannot truly understand my feelings or take away this heavy weight I carry.
There is only One who has felt this pain and joy, who knows all of my tears and wipes them away.
I have been thinking about this part of my favorite prayer (attributed to St Francis)
"...May I not seek to be understood as to understand..."
I have to get used to being misunderstood. I can't tell every stranger John Michael's life story. I have to settle that desire and turn that passion outward and try to see into the hearts of those around me.
I just happen to be listening to Les Miserables and just heard
"To love another person is to see the face of God."
Often times I feel completely alone in my grief. Although I always know where to find someone who will listen. I can rarely find someone who understands. Maybe since I don't understand myself. I can't explain this pain or why it torments me so. I wish I could just be completely grace filled and content. But part of praying for a miracle leaves me in a place where I don't want to accept the present or past. If I really believe things will change, which I do, maybe if I just keep floating on the surface this nightmare will pass and I will wake up to the life you all live in. Where you worry about your kids grades or if they are eating the right foods, or what you will do this summer, or how you will sleep train them, or if they will get into college etc. When you think the most stressful part of the day is not having a moment alone in the bathroom, I wish my son could follow me into the bathroom and pull on me. I wish he was draining me of my energy because I was chasing him and cleaning after him as most toddlers are. But my worries aren't like yours. I worry I will outlive him. I worry he will never tell me loves me with his mouth. I worry I will never be able to teach him how to do a Plie as I have my other kids. I worry people will always see us as "different" or "heavy burdened". And I since I am not really the "worrying" type, it is more that I grieve these things. I grieve just the fact that they are a possibility. When a bereaved mother is hurting because not all of her children are there to give her a mother's day card I cry that maybe my son will never be able to color me a picture either, even if he is here right now. I am sure to a person who cannot understand this probably thinks "look at the bright side" but that doesn't acknowledge the hurt. the hole.
I suppose THIS is why I haven't published this post yet. Because I am still not really in the place to know how to end it. I know the things I should focus on and pray through and for. I am sure there will be some delightful words of wisdom I should be ending this with but I don't have any yet.
I am just tired of feeling like I am in the world with you, but not in your world.
I have a strong desire to be understood. I think that is why if you ask me how I am, you might find yourself getting a really long answer. Maybe if I tell you everything I know about me you will get me. Far fetched?
When we were kids no one in the house was allowed to use the word "weird," no matter what it was you were talking about. I was very sensitive about the word because it was used about me one too many a time. Even though it was meant in jest I didn't like the idea of being unusual. I really didn't like the idea of people talking about me out of ignorance and assuming things without really knowing me. I was desperate to wear glasses or retainers or break a leg because I thought that was normal.
You must be chuckling a little right?
My life has been pretty unusual by todays standards.
TO start: My parents have stayed married, even through really hard years.
My spouse and I had not only never dated anyone else, we were virgins when we got married.
I was married 3 months after high school graduation, the only married dancer I knew in college.
Stayed in college while pregnant and took my baby with me to school for a year.
on and on...
As the Leading Actor in our own movie we usually feel like all eyes are on us but I felt that at times I really was a different color than everyone else. Though it wasn't until I opened the dance studio that I really realized I was going to have to be okay with being criticized, very likely misunderstood, talked about. It's only natural. I am sure it happens to all teachers of different kinds. You are being evaluated for better or worse. I was thinking this last week that someday if I am not a dance teacher (wwaaa don't even go there) maybe someday I will just be another person again. And then it hit me, my husband is going to be a priest... we will always be talked about. Likely to be misunderstood.
Not everyone has to know my every thought.
I have verbalized almost every feeling I have had to some close friend or another and yet it isn't enough, even with My Love as much as he tries he cannot truly understand my feelings or take away this heavy weight I carry.
There is only One who has felt this pain and joy, who knows all of my tears and wipes them away.
I have been thinking about this part of my favorite prayer (attributed to St Francis)
"...May I not seek to be understood as to understand..."
I have to get used to being misunderstood. I can't tell every stranger John Michael's life story. I have to settle that desire and turn that passion outward and try to see into the hearts of those around me.
I just happen to be listening to Les Miserables and just heard
"To love another person is to see the face of God."
Often times I feel completely alone in my grief. Although I always know where to find someone who will listen. I can rarely find someone who understands. Maybe since I don't understand myself. I can't explain this pain or why it torments me so. I wish I could just be completely grace filled and content. But part of praying for a miracle leaves me in a place where I don't want to accept the present or past. If I really believe things will change, which I do, maybe if I just keep floating on the surface this nightmare will pass and I will wake up to the life you all live in. Where you worry about your kids grades or if they are eating the right foods, or what you will do this summer, or how you will sleep train them, or if they will get into college etc. When you think the most stressful part of the day is not having a moment alone in the bathroom, I wish my son could follow me into the bathroom and pull on me. I wish he was draining me of my energy because I was chasing him and cleaning after him as most toddlers are. But my worries aren't like yours. I worry I will outlive him. I worry he will never tell me loves me with his mouth. I worry I will never be able to teach him how to do a Plie as I have my other kids. I worry people will always see us as "different" or "heavy burdened". And I since I am not really the "worrying" type, it is more that I grieve these things. I grieve just the fact that they are a possibility. When a bereaved mother is hurting because not all of her children are there to give her a mother's day card I cry that maybe my son will never be able to color me a picture either, even if he is here right now. I am sure to a person who cannot understand this probably thinks "look at the bright side" but that doesn't acknowledge the hurt. the hole.
I suppose THIS is why I haven't published this post yet. Because I am still not really in the place to know how to end it. I know the things I should focus on and pray through and for. I am sure there will be some delightful words of wisdom I should be ending this with but I don't have any yet.
I am just tired of feeling like I am in the world with you, but not in your world.
