Marry me. Own me.

Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home—my only home.

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

My big term paper in 12th grade AP English was about Jane Eyre, specifically the concept of love in Jane Eyre. I've been trying to create my home my entire life. I never had one place that I could call home. I had a smattering of locations, and all of them together just wasn't home. But I found a home inside myself that I carried with me everywhere. It was safe. I made forts with pillows and blankets and my pink depression glass lamps I've had my whole life; and I would read The Boxcar Children and Nancy Drew. I don't remember a lot of snacks, but my mother often bought graham crackers, so those I remember more than anything else. That was my "home".

I was told that my real home would someday be with a partner, a husband. He would give my life meaning. He would take all of the idiosyncrasies about me and somehow create meaning from them. He, this unknown person, was the only way I could become whole and complete. He was the only way  that someone would care about me the way I imagined was possible. He would care that I hate watermelon and love swings at the fair. He would listen to me when I wanted to talk, because it would be his job to listen and care. In sum, my future husband would love me the way no one else could.

Well I'm 31 years old, and I'm not married. I've never been married. I haven't met this amazing person who is going to save me, change my life so completely I'll finally be whole. So I've had to learn along the way that life is too hard to wait for this person to arrive. Life is too long to wait for someone that may never come.

Whatever the truth, I've learned that one person doesn't "complete" another person, and so to even strive for that is a futile occupation. Don't I deserve to be complete all on my own? Don't I deserve to be loved all on my own? And don't I deserve to be fully known without a spouse? Yes, yes, and a resounding yes.

So I find my home all within myself, and I carry it with me wherever I go.

I don't want all the things.

I don't want a diamond ring
I don't want a backyard, or a big house
I don't want a wedding with everyone we know
I don't want you to not be you

I want simple, and quiet
Something that says "for keeps"
On your knobby broken fingers
With fat Elvis in Vegas, in white

I want a porch or a stoop, a place to sit and watch
Space to lay down, take a bath, wash the dishes
I want music, and windows, and light
And you, just you, only you

Rummage sale planning - Part 1

Your ultimate dream: parent-child matching costumes.

I wish I had a delivery boy who brought me sandwiches from Whole Foods on weekends, or any evening really. I was at Whole Foods last night getting groceries, and wishing that I was home in a prone position. Sometimes I think people need to get married so that they split up these kinds of things. I swear I talk to so many women whose husbands cook and clean, and I do not know how this all goes down. It's a mystery to me. I tend to be more traditional, hands in hot soapy water washing dishes, making broccoli pesto for dinner, etc. There are just certain things I don't like to do, and sometimes these things keep me from doing things I would enjoy doing.

[Insert rummage sale here]. So I am currently organizing a rummage sale, to be held at my church, to raise money for Syrian refugees. I found myself getting too caught up in the minutiae of my own life, took a step back, and realized that I needed to be more productive, and generally whine less.

I did the same thing a couple years ago, but it stressed me out so much that I swore I'd never do it again. Now I'm just trying to stay chill, let things happen, and not agonize over the details. I don't know if it's working. I'll let you know.

BIKRAM #2 (and #3)

 

So Tuesday, I went back to the hot yoga studio. There was a different instructor, and she suggested that I sit out one set of each posture (they do two sets of everything), so I did. After an hour, I thought I was going to die from the heat and I couldn't slow my heart rate down, so I just laid on the ground for the last twenty minutes and willed my breath to keep me alive. I succeeded.

Wednesday (i.e. yesterday), I went again, this time not because I had something to prove to myself or anyone else, but because I really wanted to go back. My job can be stressful if I allow it to be, and it's really nice to look forward to a time where I can let out all the bad stuff that's hanging out in my body. I'm not a big believer in toxins and all that jazz. I'm not going to buy a cleansing kit that does horrible things, nor am I going to go crazy and do the cayenne/lemonade thing. But a regular thing that makes me feel good every day? I think I can get behind that.

I know. I know. Now I'm a crazy Bikram convert. But seriously, I need something to look forward to that is different from everything else. I need something that doesn't mess with my spine or my blood sugar. So, for the time being, this is going to be it. Deal with it haters.

On another note, I moved back home last night. At one point, I had dirty laundry, clean laundry, food, all my eBay stuff, my briefcase, toiletries, and my post-yoga mat and towels all in piles in my super small living room. If the lighting were better in my apartment, I would have taken a picture. It was scary stuff.

Then I cried about turning 30 and laughed while watching Bachelor Pad. All in a day's work.

Differentiate yourself.

I'm not exceptionally good at describing jewelry yet.

So I'm reading this book called Passionate Marriage, by David Schnarch. I guess you could say that it's a book about sex, but it's not really. It's more a book about how sex reflects our intimate relationships in both positive and negative ways. I've pretty much decided that I'm going to give it to people as a wedding gift, maybe two copies, because the book is all about differentiation, and how we can have better relationships when we don't expect the other person to define us or affirm our worth.

In most of my relationships, I don't need other people to give me worth. That's not a hard thing for me. Maybe at one time it was, but now not so much. However, that is not the case in my closest relationships. I have so much trouble saying, "This is where I end and you begin...This is you...This is me." I take on people's problems because I "love" them, but when I do that, it communicates that I don't think that they can handle their own problems, that they need me to function properly, and that's exactly what I do not wish to communicate.

Truly intimate relationships are difficult to navigate. They take constant work, and pain. Sometimes there are easier times than others, or else we wouldn't be able to cope, and we certainly wouldn't stay together. But if being human is hard, in and of itself, then being human with another human has to be exponentially difficult.

So to all y'all out there in long-term partnerships, more power to ya :) You are each a testament to the possibility of love to triumph.

Tactile love

So, I'm single and for the most part (yeah, I have to finish this damn paper, but that will be done in a few days), 100% available. I'm kind of enjoying this newly-found emotionally-stable freedom. It's kind of awesome.

I'm interested in how my online blogging friends (with a penchant for the tactile realm of thrifting) feel about the online dating scene. Which way do you swing: tactile or online? When I put it that way, it almost seems counter-intuitive. I spend my days on a treasure hunt, driving around town, searching, touching, feeling. This is all in the midst of lots of other people, with the radio on in the background, and more often than I'd like, a screaming child. It's stressful and exciting. I may even get hit on, and that's always an adventure (think stringy, dirty, and frugal).

Online dating is hidden, behind-the-scenes, inorganic. I need eye contact, fumbling, blushing. For as much as those things may hinder my own confidence, they also make me a stronger person in the long run.

So in the interest of face-to-face, sometimes scary, but always exciting, interactions, I put myself out there in the real world, every day.

Set-ups welcomed :)

It's your life - own it.

When a relationship fails, it is never one person's fault, never. The unique quality of being human is that we keep coming back to each other, even though together we can make one another miserable. So it is that when a relationship fails, it's on both parties.

You chose to marry that person. You made choices which led to the relationship's demise. And now you must live with the consequences of that action. You married someone who left you? Yup, you participated in that. If you've been left, don't cry "Foul!" as if you are innocent in the demise of the relationship. Own it, people. Own it.

These are just some meandering thoughts I've been having. It's very important to me for adults to act like adults, to put the needs of their loved ones (especially children) above their own needs. That's what adults do. Adults are calm and firm in the midst of crisis. They do not call names; they are kind. Adults are not passive-aggressive; adults say what's on their minds, respectfully and plainly. They do not do these things because they are easy. They do them because they are the right things to do.

Being an adult is difficult. Being married is difficult. But it is what it is. It's your life. Own it.

Seriously, you're all amazing.

Caitlin, of "To Make Love Stay", wrote this post recently. I read it, and was inspired.

I've been really feverish today, and feeling like all the kinds of my worst self. For some strange reason, I keep thinking about sharing space with another person, and how impossible that seems in this moment. My crap is everywhere. I have one sink, in the bathroom. It is my only water source. I do the dishes in the bathroom sink. There. I said it. Be disgusted by me.

I keep thinking, "Why would another person want to live with me?" I don't know why this suddenly seems important, but there's something so amazing to me about committed relationships. You don't just put up with the other person; you expose yourself to that other person, every friggin day. You can't hide anything: your weird smells, your whining, your moods, your weird smells, all of the bizarre things you feed yourself, how often you stare at your own pores in the mirror, how often you return through the front door in the morning because you forgot something, how much stuff you actually buy at thrift stores, how many doctors appointments you actually have, and on, and on, and on...Who would subject him or herself to this?

So yes, sometimes, I marvel at the human tendency to commune with itself. Even in all of our disgustingness, we continue to befriend, love, procreate, teach, help, and endure with one another. We take care of our children. Some of us even go so far as to adore our children, tend to them, cuddle with them, and let them throw up all over us. We are all one big mess, together.

It never ceases to amaze me.

"The WWE is not real, honey"

So, I love reality television.

1. Anything with Kardashian in it: Family members walk through the room when it's on and moan that I'm frying brain cells. Your complaints do not affect me, pious ones.
2. Bachelor/Bachelorette: This is best watched with others who enjoy watching and commenting on good vs. bad social interactions. This way, I figure that by the time I'm 40, I'll be able to date. By then, I'll have learned all the things not to do.
3. The Biggest Loser: I don't watch the newest season. I'm not even tempted to watch it without Jillian Michaels. She and Bob had perfect chemistry. I love watching people change, learn things about themselves that they never knew before, and get healthier.
4. Survivor: What does a liar look like? What does a trustworthy person look like? I have a lot of trouble reading facial expressions, so this is quite helpful to me.
5. So You Think You Can Dance? Teenagers reaching for their dreams? Enough said.
6. Work of Art: Awesome first season. Artists in competition? Chaos ensues.

But, I am also a discerning connoisseur. I choose carefully, and do not enjoy the following:

1. Real Housewives of anywhere: Mom, seriously? Turn it off. Turn it off right now.
2. Music competitions. This includes American Idol, which I only watch with my parents because they love it so much. They especially enjoy introducing the contestants to me.
3. Dancing with the Stars: That's what it's called right? The one where they take unknown soap opera actors and make them dance with midgets? All I know is that people don't like it because it's going to make all of our children transgendered. Now that's a reason to watch.

Hate reality television? Tell me why. I'd love to attempt empathy.

The beauty of a snoring dog

You know how when your life is crazy, but it's manageable, and then one thing gets added and the whole structure topples down? Yeah, that's where I am right now. Everything was going along at a steady clip, and then I got a paper, and everything ground to a halt. I'm tired; I'm cranky; I'm not in love with this paper. I am stuck between two worlds, the professional world and the student world, and my brain is having a lot of trouble with the latter.

I was so concerned about my weekend of paper writing that I drove across town to borrow the dogs. One is snoring right now; it's a blissful sound. I miss them so much, but now that they're making way through my tiny place, I remember that having them here would be impossible, and that I enjoy not having to care for anyone but myself.

Some people think that singleness is selfish, but that's just not the whole picture. Singleness can be a choice, just like any other relationship choice. And it can be done out of obligation, or it can be done from a place of need or desire. At this place in my life, I am needing to be alone. And it's a good thing. Maybe someday that will change, but right now, my cranky self and I would like to be alone with the dogs.

Also, I slept way better last night with them here.

This is not food porn

So, Sexual Addictions. I know that I would dish, and I will, in part, but mostly I want to comment on the nature of the issue itself. The class was fine. I was of course offended by the usual injustices of lack of egalitarian language, and a sole focus on married people and all of their problems. Because who wants to even talk about single people and all of their problems ad nauseum? We all know that once you get a single person talking about themselves, it could go on forever, right? They're so darn selfish.

If I get too offended about these issues, I won't get much done. I'll become a tape that just plays the same sides back and forth, over and again. And of course, I can't start talking about the gays and all of their deviant homosexual problems either. So I will just stick to the real stuff. Get married in that normal hetero way. Attach fully to your spouse. Be honest; get therapy; don't look at porn; repeat.

Okay, so apart from all of my sarcasm, sexual addiction is real (and it's more than pornography), and the neurological factors involved are also real. The brain is deeply affected by visual sexualized stimuli, and pornography has become so accessible, affordable, and anonymous, that now pornography is reaching populations it may not have reached before. A lot of people struggle with sexual addiction. They feel controlled by it just like any addiction, and it's a hidden thing, a secret. Sex is always around us, but shame keeps us from always engaging in relationship in healthy ways. When we do something that we don't want anyone else to see, the shame sweeps us into a terrible cycle of secrets and hiding and unreality.

This is where I come in. If there's a huge percentage of men and women out there dealing with this, how can we allow it to remain a hidden, shameful issue? It's normal is what it is. Sex is normal. Arousal is normal. Attraction is normal. Our bodies do it without our permission. What fucks everything up is our belief that sex is dirty, that our humanness is dirty.

You are not dirty! There is nothing wrong with you! Say what you want. Say who you are.

There is no shame in being you. Start there. Accept yourself as you are, and when you feel completely okay with that, you can look into the parts of your life that aren't working so well, that are hurting your relationships, and hurting you. But don't start by hating yourself. That will never work.

Can you tell I'm a Feeler?

Yesterday, for the first time in the past few crazy weeks, I felt small and sad. I didn't feel like my big strong adult self. This is never a good thing. I tried to hone in on, and blame, one particular problem to try and make sense of my feelings. Blaming it on another person is never productive, but I tried. I'm very happy to say that I didn't succeed. I didn't make a crazy phone call, or write a crazy letter, or tell someone "I'm through!" This is growth. Major growth.

I tend to be very controlled by my emotions. In my seminary community, some people are ridiculously aware of their Myers-Briggs personality labels; it's not uncommon for someone to spout of their acronym off the cuff (e.g. "I'm an ENTP."). Right now, I'm forgetting what exactly I am (INFP?), but I know that one of the letters says I'm a FEELER. I told someone this the other day and he sarcastically replied, "Really?" to which I shyly replied, "oh, you noticed?" It was a good moment; I like it when people see me for who I really am.

There are "ideal" matches for INFPs. I don't know if there is an ideal match out there for me in the world. I used to think that there was; I once believed in romance and destiny (when I was 16), but now I'm much more realistic. Love is a choice. Love is an action. I don't get special treatment from God if I end up with my "ideal" match.

He may be an introvert too (my partner, not God). That's okay. I think that people confuse the introversion/extroversion spectrum with what they like. No one likes to be alone all the time! It's where one gets reenergized that defines them. And I also think that there comes a point in a long-term committed relationship when the partners know one another enough not to step on each other's toes in the reenergizing period.

My dad's view of a vacation is a day where he can putter without interruption. My mom knows this and leaves him alone.

I strive to attain sustainable relationships, but the core philosophy I'm trying to build is something I have a lot of difficulty writing about. It will be something I continue to work on throughout my life. I look forward to that.

Puttin' it all out there, for now

Sometimes, when a person gets married, we the onlookers are expecting certain things. We expect that the couple doesn't live together. We probably even expect that they've never so much as passionately kissed. Clothes have definitely, without a doubt, never come off. Whether we like it or not, we're all a bunch of Puritans who expect that sex is procreative, that no one has sexual feelings outside of babies, and that no one does it very often.

But we know better, whether or not we're willing to admit it. We know better because we ourselves have experienced all the different parts of sexuality, even if we haven't been willing to admit that to ourselves, or to our closest friends. Hiding it does not make it go away. Sexuality is a part of life. Period.

Today, amongst friends, I admitted to having an extensive sexuality library, courtesy of my profession and my super-thrifty skills. I felt kinda funny after admitting that. Also, in a perfect world, I'd write my graduate thesis on single sexuality, but since it can't be anonymous, that's out of the question. By writing about it, I admit to doing it. I admit to thinking about doing it (i.e. being a sexual person). That may all be too much for most people to bear.

But denying it never did anybody any good. Shame is only healthy in very small quantities, and beyond that, it screws us up so royally, we may as well kiss any good future sex life adieu.

Just because it's complicated doesn't mean you throw it away. Own it. Dust it off. Walk tall.

How about we never say 'Good-bye'?

Wow; it's been a hectic few days. Moving plus out-of-town people to catch up with equals not a lot of sleep, lots of chaos, and weird eating (I'm currently eating my second meal of the day at 5pm. It's a PB&J with a large glass of vegetable juice).

I have been boy crazy lately, not in a bad way, but in a "I'm ready to be done with this" way. That doesn't bode well for anyone who is scared of commitment, or my intensity, but I am unapologetic. Who knew that would ever be possible? I was once so terrified of commitment that telling me you loved me would send me running through the door, likely to never be seen or heard from again. But now, I'm all out there, all the time. "This is how I feel, right here, right now." It's liberating. Someday this will bear some healthy fruit. Right now, it just makes me really proud of myself.

Does this mean I don't care about each person? Absolutely not. I just know and trust that God is in control, and I can be me, all me, all the time, and everything will work out for the best. Again, who knew I would ever end up so optimistic, after so much crap in my life?

I'm ready to put it all out there, take the next step, make a commitment to somebody and make it work. I've stopped thinking that it's rocket science. It's ridiculously hard, but it's hard for everyone. Marriage is hard for everyone. Do we avoid it for that reason, or do we trust that God has intended for us to be hardwired in this way? I'm for the latter. I've been at the receiving end of an enormous amount of God's love, and I'm treating each day as if God's best is in it.

Is this thrifty, or just reckless? I'm not sure. I don't think I'm ready to answer that question quite yet, but I will say this: Just like a good thrift store find, good chemistry with a non-douchebag doesn't come around every day; seize it while you have the chance. Also, put all your crazy on the table. It's best to go in with your eyes wide open.

Keep her Barefoot and Pregnant

I'm not one for blog hype, but when Christians start talking about sex, I'm all over it. Donald Miller's blog posts about love this week have set the blogosphere on fire, from angry feminists to angry conservatives; every one of them was pissed, and every one in between was in love with Miller's Eldredge-meets-Driscoll brand of romance.

Now I was offended too, not because I didn't agree with Miller, but because I did. I am easily lulled into the new-reform movement's ideas about love: boy is in charge of the love story, boy woos girl, girl stands back and lets it happen, making sure that she doesn't get too power-hungry and spoil the whole thing. And I was that girl that wanted too much, that did too much, that thought too much and talked too much. I was all wrong inside that model, and now I'm bearing the fruits of my sin, of my lack of desire to be submissive, to be invisible.

Now I'm all for submission in marriage, but by teaching that women must submit to their husbands in all things, we perpetuate a culture and gender-promoted view of men-on-top. It's not as easy as "The bible says it...that settles it." Submission is bigger than "Do what you're told." Submission is about trust in a relationship, and trust can never be established when we initiate a relationship in this inegalitarian way. Maybe at some point, the relationship can handle that kind of restructuring, but for a woman to make herself less to be attractive to men is to take away her God-given identity in order to conform to a chapter and verse.

As a good friend reminded me yesterday, we Christian women love to talk about being a Proverbs 31 woman, but we like to forget how strong that woman is: "The heart of her husband trusts in her...(v. 11)."

That's all for now. Don't trash yourself.