If I’m being totally honest ….
1. I love my mom because she’s my mom, but I do not like her.
2. I struggle too often with, um, a potty mouth.
3. I am a Christian and there are people I hate.
4. One of them being my former best friend.
5. I have not forgiven her.
6. I know I haven’t because I still hear that one line from a book I read on forgiveness pounding in my head: Forgiveness is not anti-anger; it is anti-hate.
7. I am not there yet.
8. I question my salvation. A lot.
9. I don’t get over things quickly or easily. Obviously.
10. Because I try to do it all through my flesh.
11. Which is a joke.
12. Haha.
13. I have not entirely gotten over the loss of my performing arts teaching job.
14. Two years ago.
15. I’ve never even finished the story of how I lost that job, because, well, I guess I’m scared to.
16. I struggle with depression, but feel unsure about medication.
17. I hide so much behind the mask of this blog.
18. I struggle to write even one paragraph — one paragraph can take an hour.
19. And then I’m always deeply disappointed with it anyway.
20. But I can’t … stop.
21. I will never get over not being a mom. Never.
22. I can’t get past feeling like a failure. In life.
23. I’m afraid of this post sitting in total silence — because you’ve hated this — because maybe masks are useful things.
Or maybe someone else wants to be totally honest, too.
I love posts like these. And I like this one specifically because despite the ‘mask’, you’re opening up. It’s not exactly the same but once I went to yoga and the instructor said, ‘yoga is the practice of learning to open.’ I liked that, and I think that blogging for me (and apparently for you too) is like that.
You do it beautifully.
What is #21 about, if I may ask?
Much love,
RTG
My heart so goes out to you here – especially with 4, 5, 6, and 7.
Masks are useful things … except when they’re not. 🙂
You’re brave, hon.
Ditto: 1 – 5, 8 – 11, 16, 22, 23.
Your blog is one of my most favorite because you write so well … it is lively and thought-provoking. It has LIFE.
So many blogs I read in the creative circle I travel in are boring, and often singing one-note from the same songbook (I published this, I published that, blah blah blah). My own blog is very boring. I struggle with it. After the first of the year, probably some big changes there.
Anyway, I’m veering sharply off topic as I’m wont to do. (ahem)
Seems you have a LOT of Big Things on your plate to deal with right now. I send you good wishes and prayers.
♥
I’m so with you on #10.
Oh man, I feel your pain Tracey. And I’m praying. I know what you mean on so many points.
Me too, especially 9 & 10.
Thank you.
Oh yeah, 17-20.
I feel ya, hon.
I wish you would keep the current website name, Tracey, because this post was the most nakedly honest soul-baring I have ever read on a blog. Thank you for doing so. I hope the process, if nothing else, had something of a cathartic effect on you.
Scattered reactions:
(1) There are times to be brutally honest with ourselves about ourselves, and times to allow ourselves some grace. You’ve done the first. I hope you will do the second. (2) We NEVER get over life’s disappointments; we just learn to live with them. (3) I wish I could remember who it was who said “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.” (4) Surely you know that a Christian commitment comes not because we’re perfect, or that we live up to the principles of the faith, but is instead a confession that we are spiritually sick people in need of the ultimate physician. (5) NOBODY’S realities match what had been their dreams. (6) Re #21: okay. Understood. Now think of all the single moms out there, or all the moms in loveless marriages, who would kill to have the kind of marriage you seem to have.
And, as a sidenote, you have plenty of readers who have never met you in person, and probably never will, who think you’re someone mighty special.
Wow…you did get me going on this one.
I never know what to expect when I come by, but I always seem to take SOMETHING away from it.
We get little glimpses of who you are, and ya know what? It seems it’s more than just me that likes you.
On the salvation thing – I know that if I could lose my salvation, I would have done it a LONG time ago. But since I didn’t then, I know I won’t ever. That’s what keeps my faith strong. Because I know that He’s with me NOW. even through THEN.
Wish I had answers to give, but instead I’ll remind you of the tourist t-shirt. There’s somebody in Texas that loves ya.
Well, you know I’m feeling this post. And how.
How do you draw the right line?
But sweetheart, the writing struggle doesn’t show, if that makes you feel better.
You make it look effortless.
When the “account not paid” notice came up, I freaked interiorly. No Tracey? NOOOOOO!
And I’ve always been impressed by the honesty that comes through the blog. Nothing else on the list was oh, a surprise.
Here’s somebody else in Texas that loves ya.
#6 really gets me, as I’m someone who struggles with forgiveness. To me, too often, the kind of forgiveness I feel like I SHOULD be giving seems like license to let the person hurt me or take advantage of me again.
so maybe that statement is something I should keep in mind: anti-hate, not anti-anger. And maybe thus not, “anti-protecting yourself”
And 22 hits me, also: I said the other day after my performance-evaluation at work, “one more year I haven’t been revealed as the fraud I actually am.” I wonder if a lot of women don’t feel that way.
And as for 21: I’m sorry, too. That sucks.
So lovely, Tracey. Your honesty is a beautiful thing. Thank you for that. I’m with you on so many points. #16, though, hits me close to home. I am #16 on the meds.
You tell yourself, every day, that you’re correcting a chemical imbalance. That you need this, not just for you, but for everyone who loves you. Then you have a weak moment (or ten) and you want off, because you feel as if you’re less of a person because you take some sort of drug just to feel normal. And then you remember what you were like every time you missed a dose or changed drugs, so you sigh, you pop the pill, and move on. Sometimes, for some people, there is no “sucking it up” or “getting over it.” At least not without a lot of help.
And I agree with Ricki on 22 – I feel like an impostor all the time.
You have someone in Nevada that loves you, too.