I was watching the pilot of a CW show called "Emily Owens, MD" over the weekend. Emily is doing her time as an underling (resident) in a big city medical center. The show starts off talking about how she was always the nerdy, awkward one growing up. She was geeky and often picked on. She looked forward to growing up, becoming an adult that no longer has the pains and insecurities of youth. However, she has now realized something that the "grown-ups" don't tell you when growing up: those insecurities don't just melt away or disappear. They follow you.
For me, that's true. I know who I am and how other people see me, but that has never changed the weight of my fears and the self-magnification of my short-comings. I have had to fight myself for the inches of growth and understanding I have gained over the years, and I have been blessed to have friends who have always loved and supported me, even when I felt (or was!) undeserving, ready to jump up and bolster my self-worth at any time. (Thank you, by the way!)
As a young person, I was never the 'ideal' image of a woman. On one hand, I had great skin. On the other, I was short, shapeless, hyper, and somewhat lacking in social skills. And do you know what? I'm still all those things, though about 25 lbs. heavier and minus the great skin thing. (Good thing I started out on the small side..^^V)
It's kind of interesting how carrying many of my insecurities into adulthood, combined with some not so positive physical changes, has had an impact on my self image. As an adult who has worked hard to change her own perception of herself, and has grown a great deal over the years (though not quite enough, at times), I recognized, quite suddenly, that I have somehow learned that my flaws do not define who I am. Through trying to cope with some pretty stubborn (and still present) acne, I have gained confidence in myself. I am not my poor skin. Realizing that I have put on far too much weight for me to feel quite comfortable in my own skin has helped me to see that, no, I am not exactly what I want to be-but that doesn't need to mean giving up or giving in to those heavy old doubts that tend to follow me around. I am not defined by any one thing. I am what I do and who I love. I am what I give my heart and my passions to. My imperfections are a part of me, but they do not define me. I hope that somehow I can teach my little girl that truth, so that she can grow up stronger and better, and more sure than her mother was able to. I am proud to be a woman who is stronger than she once was that she might be the mother she needs to be: one that is, little by little, trying to become more gracious, more understanding, and more useful as she interacts with the world around her.
A character trait which I hold in high esteem is that of Graciousness. This is a trait which is somewhat of a rarity in today's society. As a whole, we see fit only to point out the flaws of others, unable to forgive what people are lacking despite the things at which they excel or the positive skills and traits which they possess. When one lacks graciousness, they lack the ability to see those around them for who they are: works in progress, and children of our Father in Heaven. They forget that they, too, are imperfect and in need of mercy and grace. While we should do all that we can to be our best and expect the best out of others, people will continue to have shortcomings. We, ourselves, will continue to have faults. Very few in this life will truly be perfect. When I feel my temper rise to the surface, I try to remember the humanity of the person to which my anger is directed. I try to remember why it is that I should love them and be gracious. It is so easy to speak badly of others upon every little improper course of action which they take, but when a good person, or even someone I don't know very well, messes up, I feel like they deserve a bit of Grace. A bit of leeway is required of me. It's more than being the "better" person--it is forgiveness and it is love. That, to me, is what grace really is. It is not a proper curtsy or walking as though you are floating. It is not appeasing yourself with the "fact" that you are better than someone else, and therefore can let something slide when it suits your whims. To me, true graciousness is loving the best and the worst of those around us, and forgiving the best that we can as many times as we can muster. We may not be perfect in our graciousness, but in those times I hope there is a little bit of grace spent on all of us. Can a woman really be beautiful if she is lacking in grace? Can we really say that we are disciples of Christ and that we respect His sacrifice and the sanctity of the lives around us if we do not try to give others the benefit of the doubt?
I've always had a few friends here or there who say things like, "That makes me laugh so hard!", or "I'm just rolling on the floor laughing!" when they're really not laughing at all! I've always thought this was pretty funny, but I have thought of a reason why this might be so: We are a generation of texting. We're accustomed to scenarios in which we are sitting in class or at work and someone sends us a hilarious text. However, we're in a quiet setting. We can't actually laugh out loud or fall out of our seat, so what do we do? Text ROFL or LOL! Maybe that's why, instead of enjoying the physical and psychological benefits of actual laughter, some of us just say that we're laughing. I wonder if the psychological effects of LOL are actually the same as laughing out loud. Maybe someone should do some sort of study. :)
So, first things first: My puppy is cute. :D I was sleeping on my side this morning and my puppy was curled up on his side using my arm as a pillow. I suddenly decided I wanted to roll over onto my back to stretch a bit, then relaxed. My little guy did the same exact thing. Still using my arm as a pillow, he flipped over onto his back, did a little stretch, then settled onto his back with his little head on my arm. SO CUTE, the little guy mimicking his mommy.
Moving on: Early this morning I had an epiphany about why 'grown-ups' go to bed earlier than all the younger lads and lasses. It was when my faux child had an accident. I randomly woke up and heard her crying/talking to herself. I thought she might just be having a nightmare or working through something in her head so I had determined to let her work through whatever it was on her own unless she came to me. After a while I noticed the sound still persisted. I went to her room to see her sitting up in bed and asked her what was wrong. She'd had an accident. I got her out of bed, put her in the bath, scrounged up a change of clothes, removed the sheets, put her back to bed on the couch (since the actual bed got wet and I was not in the mood to steam vac it at the moment), then sent a text to my husband to notify him of the small one sleeping on the couch. The text occurred at 0444. I laid awake until the hubby got home and until after he fell asleep, which was sometime after 0540, since he had to finish work, drive home, drag the mattress outside (it was too heavy for me to take out or even just flip over--not a normal mattress), and get ready for bed. Then her real mother came to pick her up earlier than my alarm went off, and I laid in bed awake some more. So the moral of this story is that 'grown-ups' go to bed ridiculously early (thus achieving their 'boring' and 'party pooper' statuses) to compensate for the time that they already know that they will loose during the night when they have to tend to their messy, sleepless, wandering, or distraught little ones. I'm a genius, I know. You may thank me later when you have children of your own and you are one of the few who gets a full nights rest because you, too, begin your boring life of going to bed early.
