I am feeling less cynical this week, but still passionate about many of the things that got me to that point in the first place. I think I’ve learned that my cynicism helps me feel in control. Of what you ask? Of the pain of disappointment. If I am cynical I can head pain off at the pass and be sarcastic before it gets a chance to hurt. You know, strike first and then you won’t hurt so bad. It’s a delusion. I know. But I’m glad I worked through it this week. Does this mean an end to cynicism and sarcasm from Lexi….come on? Are you kidding? But I’m glad for the alarm it sets off so that I can examine what I’m really running from.
I am accumulating quite a bit of awareness of my tools of avoidance. I should teach a class (on avoidance and escapism that is). The sad thing is that we are all experts in this. Some of us gurus. Life and relationship is the only classroom for learning to avoid avoidance and escape escapism. I wish there were an easier way, but there’s just not. When hurt in relationship…You’ve got to be in relationship to heal. (Sigh.)
Last week I felt like someone put me in a slingshot and catapulted me back a year and a half. It was miserable. I ‘m grateful for the people in my life who have reminded me that I’m not still there. Where I am is a crazy, crazy place, but I’m so hopeful of what will come of it.
Man, if that’s not a smack in the cynic’s face.
Now, I feel like I’m playing a game of chicken with those who read this blog. At times I get really close to transparency and showing my heart–to inviting you to know me– and then I run like the wind. I am aware of this and I’m working on it. There are parts of me (not the sorted details of my story) just me, that I have exposed in the form of poetry and other stuff that is just soooo hard for me to share. I wrestled with friends this weekend over why that is. This is what I came up with:
It is far easier for me to be misnamed by the circumstances that have caused me pain and to hide behind that name than it is to admit that those things don’t make me who I am. I struggle to acknowledge that the person God has made me is good, reflective of him, and of value to the world. God knows my name, but I do not. I would rather the broken pieces be seen and possibly rejected than to be vulnerable enough to have my glory called forth and seen because for that to be rejected seems unbearable.
I pray for eyes to see me as He sees me, to be named by Him. And, as scary as this is for me…I invite you to share what you see.