The Road of Discovery

You’re rude to Steven: we’re not okay.

God sent me a rainbow this week. He always does, right what I need it most. That and hummingbirds. He sure knows the way to my heart :)

The funny thing about this rainbow, thought, was that it didn’t come when I thought I needed it. I had had a rough day last Saturday. After so much effort on my part to make things right with my mom, to please her and make her happy, it happened again. I showed up late, really late. She flipped out, threatened to reinstate my curfew and griped about Steven not driving enough. Same ol, same ol. Anyway, that afternoon I prayed for a rainbow. I prayed and prayed and hoped that one would show up. The conditions were right. The sky went suddenly gray, fat angry raindrops fell out of the sky…and then it was over. The sky cleared. Gray clouds to one side, blue sky to the other. The perfect conditions for a rainbow. So I started to pray. God, send me a rainbow so I know everything is okay, so I know that you approve of me, so I know that I’m still okay in your eyes.

Nothing. No rainbow.

I didn’t think God loved me any less, or didn’t approve of me because He didn’t send me one. I just figured that I was asking for the wrong thing. That God needed me to rest in His approval and not test Him by asking Him for it. So I moved on. I made resolution where I could and let the situation lie where I couldn’t. I apologized for what was rightfully my fault, and refused to over apologize no matter the consequences. I stood firm in what I was, who I was, whether it was accepted or not.

And I stuck with it. I’m still doing it. It may not be easy, but I’m learning to be okay with not being spoken to or accepted all the time. I’m learning to be okay with people not being okay with me. I’m learning to be alright with people not thinking that what I’m doing is the best thing for me or them. I’m learning to be myself. Finally.

And then the rainbow came :)

Steven and I had just had a conversation on his break at CFA. We talked about everything we had already talked about a million times before. How I need to stand up for myself, be my own person, be okay with not being talked to, tell my family how I actually feel about the way they treat me and him, and how all of that would benefit our relationship together. I agreed. I understood. For the first time I actually wanted to do it. I stood back and realized that Steven was right. He had been right all along. I viewed the situation from a completely different viewpoint: his viewpoint. I saw what he was seeing, realized how it must seem from his standpoint and realized how right he had been all along. I was finally ready to woman up and be an adult. I was finally ready to fully be myself, regardless of the consequences. He said something to me that I will never forget:

“Amy, it’s better for them to dislike you for who you are than love you for someone you’re not.”

And he was right. It hit home like nothing else ever had.

Minutes later, a gigantic rainbow took over the sky :)

Sometimes I don’t like my family. I just don’t. That may be an absolutely horrible thing to say, but I can’t lie about it anymore. Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t say I don’t love them. I do. In fact, I love them so much it hurts.

But sometimes I don’t like them.

Tonight is one of those nights.

I don’t like that I haven’t been allowed to grow and think for myself until I turned 21. And even now, any change to the person that they have created and molded is absolutely catastrophic. I’m not talking about bad change, as in the change that brings you down or sets you on a wrong path. I’m talking about basic change: a change of opinion, of taste, of thought. None of it is acceptable. It’s as simple as that.

They raised me to think and be one way. No deviation allowed. And then, when I suddenly sprouted wings (something most parents encourage at some point in life), the scissors came out. The feathers were clipped. When they realized that couldn’t keep my feet safely planted on the ground, they resorted to the second best option: silence. Utter silence. A blank stare when I say something meaningful. An empty response when I’m looking for an answer. An irritated sigh when I ask a question or state an opinion. Rolled eyes when I’m trying to seriously have a discussion. They knew silence would hurt worse than any blade.

And they utilized it.

This is the world I live in now. A world of my own decisions, of discovering who I am, of loving the one person who makes me happier than any person has ever made me.

And yet I’m torn. My heart is twisted. I’m sad deep in the core of my being.

I want to be accepted unceasingly, regardless of my opinions and the changes they may undergo. I want to be loved by my family as much as I was when I did everything they wanted. But I think that may just be too much to ask.

My family is not a bad one. My parents are not bad people. They love me, this I know. But it’s a love that has changed. Somehow I feel that I’m not enough for them anymore, and it’s spurring a seed of rebellion in me that I have never experienced up until this point. I never thought I would want to do anything other than what my parents wanted for me. I never thought I’d have the urge to talk back, to make them angry like they’ve made me angry. But suddenly I do. I haven’t acted on any of these urges, however. I’m not strong enough. I’m not bold enough. I’m not brave enough.

I just wish I could make them see me for who I am. I wish I had rebelled as a teenager. Maybe if I had they would have a different level of respect for me. Instead, I did everything they asked. I didn’t watch PG-13 movies until I turned 16 and I never watched R movies. I didn’t cuss, smoke, drink, do drugs, or have sex. I felt guilty every time I read a book with a sex scene, I made sure I never said stupid, shut up, loser, moron, frickin, or hell. I came home every night after work, hung out with my mom and sisters on the weekends, talked about my dad behind his back when my mom was hurting, and apologized for every single thing I thought I did wrong…and everything everybody else did wrong too. And what did it get me? Resentment. Cold, harsh resentment. I resent the rules I was forced to comply to because compliance got me absolutely nothing. It didn’t make anyone love me any more or have any more respect for me. In fact, I think my family has less respect for me than any other member of my family. Because I’m weak. Because I never created my own opinion or rebelled when I thought something wasn’t right.

And now I’m paying for it. In every way possible. I’m 21 years old and don’t know who I am or what I think about anything. I’m 21 and still feel like I have to tell my mom everything I do. I’m 21 and haven’t drank because I figured I’d feel guilty if I didn’t tell my mom. I’m 21 and just recently got released from a midnight curfew. I’m 21 and feel like my world falls around my feet when my mom gives me the silent treatment. What kind of person is that? What kind of human lives like that?

I don’t blame them. Not one bit. I blame myself. I blame myself for being a people pleaser and never doing what I wanted to do. I blame myself for never speaking my mind or telling people when I was upset in the first place. I blame myself for being afraid of conflict and people being mad at me. I blame myself for apologizing my way through life. I blame myself for feeling guilty all the time, for everything I do, for everything everyone else does.

I can’t do it anymore. I refuse to waste my life feeling guilty, feeling used, feeling ashamed, feeling like a shell of a human. If that means my family turns against me, hates my decisions, decides I’m unlovable…so be it. I’m tired of not being me. God loves me. May that be enough.

“Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me.” Psalm 27:10

I’m not sure when I lost myself. I’ve looked in the closet, behind bookshelves, between forgot items abandoned in the attic but to no avail. Somewhere in this crazy rat race I stopped thinking for myself. I took everyone else’s opinions, meshed them together, and claimed them as my own. How then can I claim any of my thoughts or opinions as my own? I stopped today and thought to myself, “What do you really think about everything in this world? What is your true opinion? Unpersuaded by others; untainted by the world.” And the answer: silence. Absolute, complete, total silence.

It scared me.