Word of Warning

Let’s find the loophole, the technicality that makes what she is offering wrong. There is certainly something there that will let me dismiss what she’s saying. Oh, I’ll find it, alright. In the meantime, I’ll just just give her a “you’re crazy” look, pull out the old, “Why would I believe that person? He’s not certified,” or simply resort to insults.

I sometimes wonder if that is the monologue that plays in a listener’s head whenever I offer something I feel is worthwhile.

Then there are the times I need to vent my frustration, offer a different point of view, or explain why something bothers me. That’s when a listener’s inner monologue must go something like this: That’s not very Christian of her. She has to be wrong. Teddy [hypothetical] could not possibly have meant that. I can’t believe she thinks he did. My gosh, she’s so unfair. I need to defend him. I would never stoop as low as she does.

“Ha! Yeah, right,” to that last line. Where do you think I learned it, honey? Where do you think I first heard that old tired phrase playing in my head for far too much of my life: “You’re doing it wrong”? How do you think I internalized the idea that my feelings are not valid, that I should be ashamed of myself for something, that I had to prove myself, that I wasn’t ever good enough?

What’s more, I have news for you: I know full well when I am being biased towards someone or something and I have no problem admitting it. How about you?

You think I’m being unfair to someone? Really? Were you there to hear the words that he said to me? Did you see the raised eyebrow when she asked me that oh-so-innocent question? Did you feel the sting delivered by the words that “were just a joke”? I didn’t think so. As a matter of fact, I can guarantee that you did not feel what I felt.

I spent a little more than 53 years of my life trying to behave myself: avoiding confrontation or being a bother, working to always get the right answer (not understanding that there never is just one), and trying to earn respect, love, and a ticket to heaven. Most of the time, that involved denying my own thoughts and feelings and working damn hard to conform to the expectations of others. The result of this madness is that I ended up barely having a clue about who I am. How could I, when every word, thought, and action was undertaken to please someone else?

Thankfully, though, there was a spark that I managed to keep alive in my soul, despite the best efforts of those individuals and institutions that stalked my very being. More importantly, that teeny, tiny spark was enough to get me through the hard times as a parent and let me reach the point (in many cases, very early on, Thank you, God!) where I could say NO when people in my life were telling me that I should let my babies cry it out, or that spanking is perfectly fine, or that I was endangering my children’s lives by not getting them injected with poison on a regular basis, or that I was ruining their chances by homeschooling them.

In fact, I am finally getting to know God and am eternally thankful to Him for that little spark, which is now a flame that I intend to get blazing. So be careful; you wouldn’t want to get burned.