quiet

It's ironic: the best word to describe my state of being, now that noise is allowed back in my life, is "quiet." It's a deep contentment, a peaceful watchfulness. I'm loving it.

My scope for radio silence was so small at the outset, compared to where it ended up. "Father in Heaven, will Chris and I just be wasting our time if we keep dating?" I really grappled with that question. Each day, I had new tears and a different opinion, and each day, I deeply questioned any peace I thought I'd found. There just seemed to be so much static, so much information to try to work with and reconcile. Then, on Wednesday, I had a new thought.

And it changed everything.

The fact of the matter is, no matter what situation I am in, I have a responsibility to be as Christlike as possible. I realized that the troubling situation Chris and I were in, the one that lead me to this week's question, was partially my fault.

For years, I've had an underlying belief that is so completely false. Regardless, I've believed it, and lived by it, and I think it's undermined every dating experience I've ever had. The gist? That I have to give love unconditionally in order to receive any love at all.

The biggest repercussion of this idea, for me at least, is that I've accepted worse treatment than I deserve (to varying degrees.) I've loved with an element of desperation. I've lived beneath my privileges. I've been insecure. In short, I have not been as Christlike as I ought to be.

But no more. I get to be a different person now, even though all I asked for was help in figuring out my relationship status. God is so good. This new insight has taken so much of the urgency out of my approach to dating, and replaced it with a sense of peace. I wasn't sure that would ever happen...but I have finally made significant progress.

When I talked to Chris today, I offered to keep trying, because maybe this realization was what needed to change for us. In the end, he declined, citing that he felt he needed to make his own changes, too, and do some experimenting of his own -- and that couldn't happen while he was in a relationship.

That's okay. Chris and I might not be dating anymore, but I am better for this experience, and I think that's the best we can ask from our relationships anyway. I've gained so much knowledge in the last week -- the last 6 months -- and I'm excited to use it.


Grateful to use it, in fact.

Life is good.

anxiety and self-worth

I've been struggling with anxiety again. Like how an OCD sufferer might literally pick at a scab until it bleeds, I do so mentally. I create problems when I have none to solve, simply because my brain is so compulsively inclined toward problem-solving.

This most frequently manifests in my close relationships and in my self-esteem. I apply false and worldly rules to genuinely positive situations, mistaking "evil for good and good for evil" and as a result, I become hyper-critical and panic-stricken. It usually doesn't occur to me until after I've driven myself frantic that maybe I'm the one with the problem: I'm rely on philosophies and creeds not centered on Christ. I have chosen mammon over God.

While submerged in these suffocating ideas, I compare myself to others and conclude that 1) I am am a monster -- unworthy of love due to all the ridiculous mistakes I make, or 2) that I am a saint and a martyr, and aren't you puny mortals so lucky I deign to associate with you at all?

It's the two manifestations of the same universal sin: pride.

C. S. Lewis (to paraphrase) says that true humility is when we can appreciate our own excellence the same way we do another's. As Paul puts it, we must "approve things that are excellent". And that's what I'm working on right now.

As I seek genuine excellence -- which is the work of the Lord brought about by each unique individual -- I will be less prideful. I will be able to appreciate myself as simply one of God's creations, with all the subordination and divinity implied therein. Being both subordinate and divine at once helps me to also be consistent; instead of overburdening one idea over the other, I can be both at the same time.

We are all subordinately divine. Whether I am an instrument in the Lord's hands, or someone else is, we are still just that: instruments, and hence, subordinate. However, we are the Lord's instruments, Heavenly Father's children, and therefore inherently divine. As we recognize these traits in each other, we both forgive and honor one another more naturally. We recognize Christ in our fellow Christians, not just for their resemblance to Him, but also in our need for Him.

And if I do not disguise my resemblance with false guilt, or my need for Him with hypocrisy, He can shine out of me.

That idea allows for a peace that transcends scab-picking and allows the Lord to use my special talent for problem-solving for His ends. Without pride I can return to my work.

Without pride, I realize I am truly worthwhile, because without pride, I am truly His.