Yesterday, I went to an NA meeting. I am not addicted to drugs. Drugs have never been my temptation. They scare me way too much. As an impressionable youngster in the 80's I took to heart those "this is your brain on drugs" ads.
This was a requirement for a certification I am working on; it is necessary for my job. My coworker, the only other in the same position in my agency, has had NA meetings on her shared Google calendar for 5 days each week for months now and it was high time to help her get that cleaned up. I was at her office all day yesterday and we found ourselves with a few hours with unscheduled appointments and 5 minutes away from a scheduled meeting so I said, "Let's go and get this over with!"
In a town known for its criminal activity, we pulled up to a sketchy looking building on a sketchy looking street. There was an absence of prominent signage and as we pushed the door open we saw a dimly lit and rundown, empty room. Instantly I recalled every episode of every cop show I've viewed where the police are "clearing" rooms in search of a suspect. Had my coworker not been there, I might've ditched at this point. The bathroom door was stuck and we couldn't enter, and not a single light in the place would turn on. The only thing that signaled we were in the right place was the smell of coffee brewing and a little display of NA brochures.
The sarcasm and attempts at humor are tools I often use to soften opinion or the unpleasant aspects of reality I am abandoning at this point in order to make space for us to appreciate that some addicts allowed other addicts and 2 non-addict strangers to bear witness to the raw and real stories of their struggle. It is no small thing for them to admit that they are unable to stay clean on their own, that their best laid plans and stockpiles of what they accomplished in life were destroyed by their addictions. Once again I was reminded that we are all just bobbing around in a tossing sea, grasping for life preservers. Once again I found myself in complete gratitude for the privilege of listening to someone's story.
If you are going to try to change something about this world (especially under the umbrella of nonprofit work) let me share with you something I have learned. In my experience, there is NOTHING more powerful than connecting people by way of their stories. I believe nothing will change hearts and minds, nothing will break down barriers and form bonds between people, nothing will get people off their seats and into action the way that creating a space where people can honestly share their stories and be heard in a nonjudgmental way can. Since I've started my second career, I have seen this at play in a refugee resettlement agency, a workforce development program, and a domestic violence agency. The real work and change I've witnessed is ALWAYS centered around this. Mission and vision statements and white papers, budgets and reports and databases, campaigns and rewards, rules and regulations - they all have their place but if making space for storytelling is not a priority, then the movement you are building will not have lifeblood coursing through it.
If we identify as Feminists or Christians or something in between, we are probably aware that the worst of our identities happen when we don't allow the truth and heart of individual and collective stores to shape our movement. When we rigidly follow prescribed tenants and silence the voices trying to tell us their stories, we fall into the traps that earn us the more sordid parts of our reputations. In trauma work there is a mantra: "Don't ask 'what's wrong with you?' Instead ask 'what happened to you?'" You are then asking to hear a story instead of an explanation for a label you just slapped on a person. The story will inform you of what is concerning that person most, what they might have to contribute, etc.
We are humans, we are going to get stuff wrong. We are going to hurt each other and draw our lines in the sand. But what could happen if we made this a practice in our lives?
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
You Need to Hear Me Say "I Suck", and I Need to Say It
As my kids get older, I find it more necessary to protect their privacy. So the amount of cute and funny stories I tell others decreases, and so does my "processing" of tough parenting issues. Of course, the cuteness and funniness of the stories also decreases, while the toughness of the parenting issues increases in direct proportions. In the process, I start withdrawing from the gritty everyday rubbing of actual shoulders, only letting others see our lives from the most flattering angle and from afar. "Oh hi Facebook friends, sorry I'm soooo busy and out of touch. Here are my lovely vacation pics. Toodles!" (Really, look on my Facebook page. You'll gag at how accurate that portrayal is. Especially if you are one my friends with whom I used to have actual phone conversations or real life interactions).
We scratch and claw through our way to the ends of school years, but others see me smiling and waving from my Forester as I pick kids up and drop them off. We transition to whirlwind summers of camps and trips. When this school year started with only a few little hiccups and no real problems, at least as defined by a seasoned mama like me, I seized upon feelings of "An easy stage- yes please! This is going to be a great year!"
Lurking in our midst was a real problem. The kind that one cannot handle on one's own and cannot be hidden from others. Beware of the myth of the easy stage.
In the face of such problems, I wrestle an urge to put the house on lock down until everything is back to "normal." I am a very independent person who handles my own shit all by myself and feel as if that is a favor I am doing for everyone else. When I start becoming exhausted of keeping us afloat (I am not a natural floater and expend lots of energy treading water), I remember that reaching out to the circle of support surrounding me is a useful survival skill.
What I think both Feminism and Christianity have to offer here: life is not meant to be lived alone, but in community. And that's why I am posting. Sure I can go through life shouting to everyone around "I can do it MYSELF!" (In my mind's eye I see my youngest child at age 3 struggling with a zipper, shooting me daggers with narrowed eyes and stomping her feet). You can too. And we can just flail away inches from one another, almost drowning while our children look on and learn no other way to manage.
I want to hear you say how awesome I am and maybe sometimes I need that. But. Sometimes, you need to hear me say "I suck", and I need to say it. Because we are in the trenches beside one another, fighting the same battles, on the same side, where there is no place for pretense. Daughters might technically be behind the battle lines, safe as we adults fight for the world they live in, but someday (soon for some) they will be in the trenches fighting beside us. I do no daughter any favors by pretending that I do not make mistakes or need others, or that I alone hold the keys to her health and happiness.
That "it takes a village" cliche that has become so worn-out is actually very, very true. Just as no relationship is the end-all, be-all .... my children need more women to turn to than me. I have always believed this and tried to cultivate this, but there are times this is sorely tested. I can never be, nor would I want to be, the only friend to one of my friends. My husband needs other friends than me, and I need friendships beyond his. My daughters need other adult examples, voices, and influence to become the fullest, healthiest versions of themselves. And I am glad they have them. I will continue to protect the space for that to happen for them. Though I do this, though I want to do anything to ensure that my kids will be ok, that just can't be guaranteed. Which I believe is the hardest truth a parent has to look in the eye.
We scratch and claw through our way to the ends of school years, but others see me smiling and waving from my Forester as I pick kids up and drop them off. We transition to whirlwind summers of camps and trips. When this school year started with only a few little hiccups and no real problems, at least as defined by a seasoned mama like me, I seized upon feelings of "An easy stage- yes please! This is going to be a great year!"
Lurking in our midst was a real problem. The kind that one cannot handle on one's own and cannot be hidden from others. Beware of the myth of the easy stage.
In the face of such problems, I wrestle an urge to put the house on lock down until everything is back to "normal." I am a very independent person who handles my own shit all by myself and feel as if that is a favor I am doing for everyone else. When I start becoming exhausted of keeping us afloat (I am not a natural floater and expend lots of energy treading water), I remember that reaching out to the circle of support surrounding me is a useful survival skill.
What I think both Feminism and Christianity have to offer here: life is not meant to be lived alone, but in community. And that's why I am posting. Sure I can go through life shouting to everyone around "I can do it MYSELF!" (In my mind's eye I see my youngest child at age 3 struggling with a zipper, shooting me daggers with narrowed eyes and stomping her feet). You can too. And we can just flail away inches from one another, almost drowning while our children look on and learn no other way to manage.
I want to hear you say how awesome I am and maybe sometimes I need that. But. Sometimes, you need to hear me say "I suck", and I need to say it. Because we are in the trenches beside one another, fighting the same battles, on the same side, where there is no place for pretense. Daughters might technically be behind the battle lines, safe as we adults fight for the world they live in, but someday (soon for some) they will be in the trenches fighting beside us. I do no daughter any favors by pretending that I do not make mistakes or need others, or that I alone hold the keys to her health and happiness.
That "it takes a village" cliche that has become so worn-out is actually very, very true. Just as no relationship is the end-all, be-all .... my children need more women to turn to than me. I have always believed this and tried to cultivate this, but there are times this is sorely tested. I can never be, nor would I want to be, the only friend to one of my friends. My husband needs other friends than me, and I need friendships beyond his. My daughters need other adult examples, voices, and influence to become the fullest, healthiest versions of themselves. And I am glad they have them. I will continue to protect the space for that to happen for them. Though I do this, though I want to do anything to ensure that my kids will be ok, that just can't be guaranteed. Which I believe is the hardest truth a parent has to look in the eye.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Wearing A Dress
To fund-raise for "The Dressember" Campaign, I wore a dress every day in December. (Thank you to everyone who gave and helped me reach my goal!!) It was a surprisingly meaningful experience, so I thought I would write about it. Because I'm the sort of person who worries about my participation in this sort of campaign being cliche. It might be. Perhaps writing about it serves to absolve my worry.
5 Reasons Why I Chose to Wear a Dress Every Day in December
1. To try to raise awareness of women's plight around the world who are robbed of human dignity and rights. Working for the dignity and rights of women is one of my deeply held values.
2. To try to do something about the plight of women around the world robbed of human dignity and rights.
3. To remind myself that I have enough. More than enough, actually.
4. To force myself to focus on something other than gifts and greed during the Christmas season.
5. To experience from a new perspective.
5 Things I Learned from Wearing a Dress Every Day in December
1. It is really hard to wear a dress every day. I am a jeans kind of girl. Now I don't live in Syracuse anymore, but I don't live in Florida either. And people wonder why you're so dressed up.
2. It is really easy to wear a dress every day. When you have 5 choices, you take a lot of guesswork out of the getting dressed equation. You are also never under-dressed. And sometimes you get compliments.
3. People really don't pay attention to what you wear (if you switch out different scarf/cardigan combos especially). Seriously, unless I mentioned it, no one noticed! Or they didn't say anything and kept quietly thinking to themselves that I am odd. Entirely possible.
4. It made me think about other people more.
5. Once again, I never ceased to be amazed by the total generosity of people.
Now, let me say that this in no way endorses the idea that women SHOULD wear dresses; I am saying that CHOOSING to wear a dress can be a powerful thing. Whether or not this whole thing was a feminist activity was actually a discussion I had, and I'm pretty sure that the person who had the discussion with me did not walk away persuaded that it was. (And she is amazingly smart so I walked away not entirely persuaded it was either). I did not, however, get into any discussions about whether or not this was a Christian thing to do. Maybe that was obvious. Maybe I avoided those.
And I think I will probably end up wearing dresses more often. Which doesn't really have anything to with anything.
5 Reasons Why I Chose to Wear a Dress Every Day in December
1. To try to raise awareness of women's plight around the world who are robbed of human dignity and rights. Working for the dignity and rights of women is one of my deeply held values.
2. To try to do something about the plight of women around the world robbed of human dignity and rights.
3. To remind myself that I have enough. More than enough, actually.
4. To force myself to focus on something other than gifts and greed during the Christmas season.
5. To experience from a new perspective.
5 Things I Learned from Wearing a Dress Every Day in December
1. It is really hard to wear a dress every day. I am a jeans kind of girl. Now I don't live in Syracuse anymore, but I don't live in Florida either. And people wonder why you're so dressed up.
2. It is really easy to wear a dress every day. When you have 5 choices, you take a lot of guesswork out of the getting dressed equation. You are also never under-dressed. And sometimes you get compliments.
3. People really don't pay attention to what you wear (if you switch out different scarf/cardigan combos especially). Seriously, unless I mentioned it, no one noticed! Or they didn't say anything and kept quietly thinking to themselves that I am odd. Entirely possible.
4. It made me think about other people more.
5. Once again, I never ceased to be amazed by the total generosity of people.
Now, let me say that this in no way endorses the idea that women SHOULD wear dresses; I am saying that CHOOSING to wear a dress can be a powerful thing. Whether or not this whole thing was a feminist activity was actually a discussion I had, and I'm pretty sure that the person who had the discussion with me did not walk away persuaded that it was. (And she is amazingly smart so I walked away not entirely persuaded it was either). I did not, however, get into any discussions about whether or not this was a Christian thing to do. Maybe that was obvious. Maybe I avoided those.
And I think I will probably end up wearing dresses more often. Which doesn't really have anything to with anything.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Rooting for Butterflies: A Response to Domestic Violence in the Media
Two reasons for this post:
1. I've been working at a Domestic Violence Services Agency for one year.
2. There has been a lot of attention on domestic violence in the media recently.
The combination of those 2 things has set up a bit of an expectation that I and my colleagues have something to say to everyone about this.
hmmm. How about I tell you a little story?
One of our office receptionists, a lovable and eccentric individual who constantly shines laughter and love into our lives, found a caterpillar in a precarious place outside our door. She insisted would become a monarch butterfly. For 2 weeks she has taken steps to help this caterpillar in its transition, and surprised us all with the knowledge she has applied to caring for it and answering our questions.
Today, she made an announcement that it for sure was coming out of its chrysalis today. To anyone who was interested she pointed out how the distinctively monarch wing was showing through and this indicated it was almost time. Somewhere around 10am I heard a loud "I think it's coming out!!!" and impulsively hurried to her office, where a few of my other coworkers were gathered around, one with her camera rolling. We stood transfixed and silent (except for the receptionist's occasional squeals of excitement) for the 3.5 minutes it took for the now-butterfly to shed the chrysalis. As we continued to watch, its wings began to almost imperceptibly grow to normal size. It was a gorgeous creature, but so, so delicate. In fact, we were told it would be another few hours while it clung on in its new state before it was ready to attempt flight. And then it would fly all the way to Mexico. We couldn't step in and help it - it had to do it all by itself or it wouldn't make it. We just cheered it on. It sounds cheesy, but I can't tell you how beautiful it was.
This is a true story involving a real caterpillar/butterfly. But you are smart and know there's a metaphor embedded here as well.
How can I speak for anyone? How can I bear witness to what goes on inside a cocoon? What right do I have to convey the strength and energy transition takes? How can I make skeptics understand that connection to a whole chain of support is separate from doing all the work and taking all the risk? Can you hear us voice the dangers present and the odds of making it, and still believe we deal in hope? Will those now paying attention be convinced that witnessing transformation and the growth of wings is a worthwhile endeavor? Because it is inaccurate to say we save lives; we are not saviors. But the lives might have been lost if we weren't there with shelter and support.
What I can say is that what you see publicly this week goes on unseen in many forms all the time. I can tell you facts about domestic violence that maybe you know by now: it's not about being out of control, but control, first and foremost. I hope that truly helpful discussions can happen, and that people's minds and hearts can change. I hope that more understanding develops, and that as a result money is raised to help victims and paths will form for advocates to bring about more change. But no matter what happens, I assure you that there will still be strong and delicate human beings who keep undertaking a process of change. And I assure you that there will be fellow human beings who stand beside and root them on.
1. I've been working at a Domestic Violence Services Agency for one year.
2. There has been a lot of attention on domestic violence in the media recently.
The combination of those 2 things has set up a bit of an expectation that I and my colleagues have something to say to everyone about this.
hmmm. How about I tell you a little story?
One of our office receptionists, a lovable and eccentric individual who constantly shines laughter and love into our lives, found a caterpillar in a precarious place outside our door. She insisted would become a monarch butterfly. For 2 weeks she has taken steps to help this caterpillar in its transition, and surprised us all with the knowledge she has applied to caring for it and answering our questions.
Today, she made an announcement that it for sure was coming out of its chrysalis today. To anyone who was interested she pointed out how the distinctively monarch wing was showing through and this indicated it was almost time. Somewhere around 10am I heard a loud "I think it's coming out!!!" and impulsively hurried to her office, where a few of my other coworkers were gathered around, one with her camera rolling. We stood transfixed and silent (except for the receptionist's occasional squeals of excitement) for the 3.5 minutes it took for the now-butterfly to shed the chrysalis. As we continued to watch, its wings began to almost imperceptibly grow to normal size. It was a gorgeous creature, but so, so delicate. In fact, we were told it would be another few hours while it clung on in its new state before it was ready to attempt flight. And then it would fly all the way to Mexico. We couldn't step in and help it - it had to do it all by itself or it wouldn't make it. We just cheered it on. It sounds cheesy, but I can't tell you how beautiful it was.
This is a true story involving a real caterpillar/butterfly. But you are smart and know there's a metaphor embedded here as well.
How can I speak for anyone? How can I bear witness to what goes on inside a cocoon? What right do I have to convey the strength and energy transition takes? How can I make skeptics understand that connection to a whole chain of support is separate from doing all the work and taking all the risk? Can you hear us voice the dangers present and the odds of making it, and still believe we deal in hope? Will those now paying attention be convinced that witnessing transformation and the growth of wings is a worthwhile endeavor? Because it is inaccurate to say we save lives; we are not saviors. But the lives might have been lost if we weren't there with shelter and support.
What I can say is that what you see publicly this week goes on unseen in many forms all the time. I can tell you facts about domestic violence that maybe you know by now: it's not about being out of control, but control, first and foremost. I hope that truly helpful discussions can happen, and that people's minds and hearts can change. I hope that more understanding develops, and that as a result money is raised to help victims and paths will form for advocates to bring about more change. But no matter what happens, I assure you that there will still be strong and delicate human beings who keep undertaking a process of change. And I assure you that there will be fellow human beings who stand beside and root them on.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Tashmica is Jumping Out of a Plane Today
That's a reason to come back, to say that, right?
Since my "final" post, life has carried me to new places. I now have a job working in advocacy for a domestic violence services agency. And I have slowly realized that this conversation we began should not be closed.
Also in the silence of this blog, Tashmica successfully started a new foundation. Tashmica is jumping out of a plane today to honor the bravery of children who have survived sexual abuse, to shed light on the possibility of their beautiful young lives, and to invite others to invest in that.
No, this conversation is not over. The world still needs changing, and we are still becoming stronger and more creative in meeting the challenge.
Tashmica is jumping out of a plane today.
Monday, August 19, 2013
A Better Way
Dear, Surprised (or maybe not surprised) Reader,
So I lied. That was not a good way to end a blog. Depressing. No real resolution.
Let's try this again.
Part of big moves for my family is church shopping.
Let's have a moment of silence for the parts of so many souls that have died in the church shopping process.
Even the term leaves a bit of a puke taste in the mouth. Church shopping? I am certain this is a term invented by Americans. But it is a very accurate term. It's a bit like puppy shopping. Which is hard to explain too. It should be happy! Easy! But there is something ... wrong ... about the whole thing. You so badly want a puppy. But the behind-the-scenes reality of how puppies come to be for sale is something you don't want to know about. The American church scene/divisions are embarrassing to Christianity. Yet here we are, contributing to the sectarianism with our rejection of church after church. But being involved in a great church - we want that! My best friends in the world have been made by church connections! And my Sunday mornings are way too precious! And my children..... it's so complicated.
We have had the usual unsuccess here in Jersey, church shopping, as well as the accompanying guilt and "what's the matter with us?!"
This past Sunday, we stumbled upon one with promise for us. Ok, "stumbled" is a completely inaccurate word to use. Jeff spent hours and hours on websites and combed through every last page and link on this one. We made a calculated visit to a well-researched place this past Sunday and actually might visit a second time.
How did this place make it through round one of the Rozelle Standardized Test for Churches?
-There is a big, huge garden right by the parking lot and there were people weeding it as we pulled up and as we left. Points given by me. I don't know if the church people keep stuff from it, but I know they give stuff out of it to their food pantry.
-They have a food pantry and other great ministries. This is a very outward-focused church.
-Super duper nice people. We got the warmest welcome ever that was not in the least bit creepy. And you could tell they were tight - they have real relationships with one another. They were nice to each other in all of the little ways people are not, often, in our society anymore.
-They did not chase us down, ask any contact information from us, but gave us ways to contact them and check out what they are about.
-There was coffee that could be brought into the meeting space. (Points from Jeff)
-There were lots of goodies (Points from Anna)
-Kids are important, part of the church family.
-There is diversity - economic, social, age, race (though not as much in the last one as I would hope).
-The worship, though not done by talented musicians, was not distracting and they did not try to overreach their talent and kept it simple and low-key. (Points from Tiff)
- The pastor had a relaxed, conversational style that made it seem unlike a sermon.
-The content of this conversation blew me away.
I won't get into everything that made this appealing to me, but I will share what I think is relevant for this space. The core message was something like wouldn't it be nice to have an advocate? Someone to go to bat for you, plead on your behalf, when you need it? We don't have a lot of real-life examples of that outside the professional realm and especially the legal system. But when we have experienced it, it's powerful. Jesus is our advocate. He has our backs, so we don't have to exhaust ourselves trying to constantly defend ourselves against anyone and everything, including God. Because of his advocacy, we don't have to worry about how we look in others' eyes, even God's. The result of this, once we understand, is that we can find true peace, rest, and security. We can find boldness to do things we wouldn't have had the courage and freedom to do. Like advocating for other people. Wouldn't that turn our world on its head, if people who called themselves Christians spent their time not covering their own asses, but advocating (not judging!) for the hurting people around us?!
All this to say that I realize that many of the things I wish I could take back over the past year, many of the hurts I have caused, many of the ways I have not done what I wished I would have, can be directly traced to me wholeheartedly being my own advocate. Especially since I advocate for myself in an exceptionally bitchy way. Any wedge I have caused in my marriage, friendships, relationships with my children can be linked to me worrying about defending myself. The kind of person I want to be is not that kind of person. The kind of person I want to be makes the world a better place for other people. The kind of person I want to be is generous and forgiving and open-hearted and minded.
Feminism at its best is about advocacy. Advocating for people who are given less-than status in some way. Christianity is too often not about that, and to hear this kind of message, at the heart of who Jesus is - an advocate, brings everything full circle for me. In recognizing how free I am to advocate for others because I have been, am being, advocated for, is the key to Christianity and Feminism working together for good in my life. Or losing those labels all together and saying this is who I am meant to be.
I wish you courage, freedom, rest, hope, and the joy of becoming the best version of who you are meant to be.
With love,
Tiffany
jmatrozelle@yahoo.com
http://www.tiffanysattempt.blogspot.com/
So I lied. That was not a good way to end a blog. Depressing. No real resolution.
Let's try this again.
Part of big moves for my family is church shopping.
Let's have a moment of silence for the parts of so many souls that have died in the church shopping process.
Even the term leaves a bit of a puke taste in the mouth. Church shopping? I am certain this is a term invented by Americans. But it is a very accurate term. It's a bit like puppy shopping. Which is hard to explain too. It should be happy! Easy! But there is something ... wrong ... about the whole thing. You so badly want a puppy. But the behind-the-scenes reality of how puppies come to be for sale is something you don't want to know about. The American church scene/divisions are embarrassing to Christianity. Yet here we are, contributing to the sectarianism with our rejection of church after church. But being involved in a great church - we want that! My best friends in the world have been made by church connections! And my Sunday mornings are way too precious! And my children..... it's so complicated.
We have had the usual unsuccess here in Jersey, church shopping, as well as the accompanying guilt and "what's the matter with us?!"
This past Sunday, we stumbled upon one with promise for us. Ok, "stumbled" is a completely inaccurate word to use. Jeff spent hours and hours on websites and combed through every last page and link on this one. We made a calculated visit to a well-researched place this past Sunday and actually might visit a second time.
How did this place make it through round one of the Rozelle Standardized Test for Churches?
-There is a big, huge garden right by the parking lot and there were people weeding it as we pulled up and as we left. Points given by me. I don't know if the church people keep stuff from it, but I know they give stuff out of it to their food pantry.
-They have a food pantry and other great ministries. This is a very outward-focused church.
-Super duper nice people. We got the warmest welcome ever that was not in the least bit creepy. And you could tell they were tight - they have real relationships with one another. They were nice to each other in all of the little ways people are not, often, in our society anymore.
-They did not chase us down, ask any contact information from us, but gave us ways to contact them and check out what they are about.
-There was coffee that could be brought into the meeting space. (Points from Jeff)
-There were lots of goodies (Points from Anna)
-Kids are important, part of the church family.
-There is diversity - economic, social, age, race (though not as much in the last one as I would hope).
-The worship, though not done by talented musicians, was not distracting and they did not try to overreach their talent and kept it simple and low-key. (Points from Tiff)
- The pastor had a relaxed, conversational style that made it seem unlike a sermon.
-The content of this conversation blew me away.
I won't get into everything that made this appealing to me, but I will share what I think is relevant for this space. The core message was something like wouldn't it be nice to have an advocate? Someone to go to bat for you, plead on your behalf, when you need it? We don't have a lot of real-life examples of that outside the professional realm and especially the legal system. But when we have experienced it, it's powerful. Jesus is our advocate. He has our backs, so we don't have to exhaust ourselves trying to constantly defend ourselves against anyone and everything, including God. Because of his advocacy, we don't have to worry about how we look in others' eyes, even God's. The result of this, once we understand, is that we can find true peace, rest, and security. We can find boldness to do things we wouldn't have had the courage and freedom to do. Like advocating for other people. Wouldn't that turn our world on its head, if people who called themselves Christians spent their time not covering their own asses, but advocating (not judging!) for the hurting people around us?!
All this to say that I realize that many of the things I wish I could take back over the past year, many of the hurts I have caused, many of the ways I have not done what I wished I would have, can be directly traced to me wholeheartedly being my own advocate. Especially since I advocate for myself in an exceptionally bitchy way. Any wedge I have caused in my marriage, friendships, relationships with my children can be linked to me worrying about defending myself. The kind of person I want to be is not that kind of person. The kind of person I want to be makes the world a better place for other people. The kind of person I want to be is generous and forgiving and open-hearted and minded.
Feminism at its best is about advocacy. Advocating for people who are given less-than status in some way. Christianity is too often not about that, and to hear this kind of message, at the heart of who Jesus is - an advocate, brings everything full circle for me. In recognizing how free I am to advocate for others because I have been, am being, advocated for, is the key to Christianity and Feminism working together for good in my life. Or losing those labels all together and saying this is who I am meant to be.
I wish you courage, freedom, rest, hope, and the joy of becoming the best version of who you are meant to be.
With love,
Tiffany
jmatrozelle@yahoo.com
http://www.tiffanysattempt.blogspot.com/
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Time to Let Go
This morning I read a most beautiful post on a friend's facebook page. I very rarely read anything truly profound on facebook, but this morning her post was lovely in every way. One facet of her writing described how she surrendered to a recent life-changing experience and is discovering what it means to let go of her normal expectations and orientation of her life. Besides being grateful for the beauty imparted by her story, some things finally broke through the surface of my personal life.
Why have I been living life as if there is some big test I will have to pass? As if everything will be evaluated. I can be a gross underachiever, but mostly I am an overachiever. If there are grades, I want an A plus. If there is a race shirt that names the event and underneath has "Marathon, Half Marathon, 5K" I sure as hell will not be running the 5K and probably will only run the marathon. And I will want a PR. And to be in the top 25% of my age category. I want to be referred to as a good wife and mother. On employee evaluations I want the highest possible scores and of course the highest possible raise. I want to bring a dish that I bring none of home.
This is ruining me - my character. Chipping away at my marriage. Probably alienating friends. Sending my daughters messages that the standards they must aspire to are impossible to reach but they should, at much personal cost, try to reach them anyway.
In Ecclesiastes there is a well-worn passage about a season for everything. A time to be born and die, keep and throw away, speak and keep silent, etc. I have realized what season this is for me.
It is time to let go.
Let go of trying so hard, competing, worrying, keeping score, trying to figure it all out and do it all.
In the dark and putrid recesses of my heart, I have felt that it is so noble of me to be doing this move for my husband. This is all for his benefit, the nasty hidden me thinks, and he really owes me so much.
As if Providence does not move in ways that all lives are touched and I stand alone untouched as a pillar of sacrifice. This move, I think, shifted the bedrock of my life in order to jar me into seeing that I need to save me from myself. And/Or save those I love from myself.
This will be the last entry on this blog. At this point in my timeline, it is part of what I need to let go of. I will continue to chronicle my family's life on An Attempt . Thank you for riding along and I hope that your time here has enhanced your life in some way. I wish you good things as you journey forward.
Why have I been living life as if there is some big test I will have to pass? As if everything will be evaluated. I can be a gross underachiever, but mostly I am an overachiever. If there are grades, I want an A plus. If there is a race shirt that names the event and underneath has "Marathon, Half Marathon, 5K" I sure as hell will not be running the 5K and probably will only run the marathon. And I will want a PR. And to be in the top 25% of my age category. I want to be referred to as a good wife and mother. On employee evaluations I want the highest possible scores and of course the highest possible raise. I want to bring a dish that I bring none of home.
This is ruining me - my character. Chipping away at my marriage. Probably alienating friends. Sending my daughters messages that the standards they must aspire to are impossible to reach but they should, at much personal cost, try to reach them anyway.
In Ecclesiastes there is a well-worn passage about a season for everything. A time to be born and die, keep and throw away, speak and keep silent, etc. I have realized what season this is for me.
It is time to let go.
Let go of trying so hard, competing, worrying, keeping score, trying to figure it all out and do it all.
In the dark and putrid recesses of my heart, I have felt that it is so noble of me to be doing this move for my husband. This is all for his benefit, the nasty hidden me thinks, and he really owes me so much.
As if Providence does not move in ways that all lives are touched and I stand alone untouched as a pillar of sacrifice. This move, I think, shifted the bedrock of my life in order to jar me into seeing that I need to save me from myself. And/Or save those I love from myself.
This will be the last entry on this blog. At this point in my timeline, it is part of what I need to let go of. I will continue to chronicle my family's life on An Attempt . Thank you for riding along and I hope that your time here has enhanced your life in some way. I wish you good things as you journey forward.
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