Fantastical Reality

I think I decided I didn't know of what I was so afraid.  If people saw the "real" me, what would be the issue?  What on earth is so gosh dang scary about being exactly who I am?  But I suppose it's not that I didn't know what I was afraid of as much as I no longer care to be afraid.  For I am fully aware what scares me about this.  I am afraid of being vulnerable and then, not being enough.

I think that this may be everyone's fear though mine is as physical as it is emotional.  I am afraid to show all that I am, all the realities and the ugliness and the scars and the joys and successes, and despite the fact that these things have made me who I am, that I am simply not enough.  Not enough for what? For everyone, I suppose? I suppose I am afraid that the person that I am (i.e. my personality type, my ticks and talents, weaknesses and strengths) and the girl that I look like underneath the make up and the blow-dried hair will simply not suffice for society's standards as an active member, for men's standards as a prospective mate, for women's standards as a peer.

That once all of "it" is stripped away--all of the make up, the masks, the walls--that people will look at me and say, "It's no wonder you put up such a front.  You're a pathetic excuse for a woman, a lover, a daughter, a friend.  You are a sad human being."

But someone helped me realize last night it's never too late to start over. It's never too late to start fresh.  And not only that, but that I am someone worth loving and adoring, not just using and lusting after.  It's odd to me that I am so ready to believe that I am nothing, that I am worthless when all of the evidence speaks contrary to that.  The Bible is pretty clear that God loved me so much that He sent His only son to die a criminal's death for me. I, who in reality, deserves no such thing.  But I suppose I'm learning a lot about Grace and Love--things I thought I knew plenty about.  I forget often that my name means "full of grace".  I've always joked about how it's the furthest thing from the truth.  I am neither gracious nor graceful.  The only arguable thing I suppose would be the fact that it is blatantly apparent that God's grace has followed my life pretty closely.  I should be dead about eight times over, but am not.

I have also learned you must be cautious with what words you speak over your life.  When I was a child, I was very gracious.  I've longed my whole life to be graceful, elegant, regal--things which I feel have evaded me even into womanhood.  I think that maybe I'm just wrong about myself.  Maybe all of the attitude and rough edges and salty words are just a cover.  Maybe I'm a naturally sweet person that's just been shown by life you can't be sweet and survive.

I've never wanted to be looked down upon like a child.  I see girls that are sweet and gentle natured get that little pat on their head and sent on their merry little way, protected, unharmed, naive.  And I think that maybe I saw that and decided, "F*** that.  I don't want to be treated that way."  People may think I'm a bitch, but that keeps them far away from me, doesn't it?  It allows me the comfort of keeping people at an arm's length so they never get close enough to hurt me.

I think all this to say that I'm wondering if maybe I need to redefine everything I think about myself.  What if I'm not as much of a "badass" as I think I am?  What if I am not hard-hearted and mean?  If I let all of the fear and bitterness and rage go, all of that disappears.  The need to cover, to shelter, to hide dissipates and all that's left is the real me.  And if Daddy says I'm worth loving, worth sacrificing for, worth chasing, priceless, that He thinks about me constantly, then what the hell am I so afraid of?  I don't even need to be afraid.

So this is me:

This is who I am.  No make up. No glam.  Nothing to cover up.  I am beautiful, bought, and free.  Free to be the real me and all that Daddy designed me to be.  Don't know why I held back so long. Having things that did me wrong is no excuse to be a recluse, a shadow of all that I can be.  I'll be wild and free and don't really care who sees.  I let my destiny get clouded with uncertainty, with religiosity.  I believed I was an atrocity and that no one could ever love the real me.  But He has all along.  He's loved every bit of me despite my wrong-doings and lit a fire in me.  He's done all this perfectly and for some reason I believed imperfection. I believed in natural selection in reference to the heart.  I had no reverence for the masterpiece He made when He painted me.  And because I believed I'd been tainted, I seethed in unforgiveness and self-loathing.  I toted around my sins like trophies, bending further underneath their weight.  I hated myself more than anyone and believed my fate was sealed, it was done.  But then God broke through the clouds, rent the shrouds of darkness in two and said, "Daughter, I am so in love with you."  So this isn't really where this ends. This is just the beginning.  The lies and deceit are thinning out.  I hope for his sake satan wasn't planning on winning.  Because although once I was a sinner, His mercies are new every morning. So no longer do I mourn over what could be.  I think I'm just gonna be me: wild, alive, and free. Watch. You'll see.