I have this notion that I'm supposed to be perfect. Where, may I ask, did I get this idea? Was this an expectation implanted in my brain at an early age? And how, exactly, did this expectation reach to the level that it has? How is it that instead of doing something or saying something that might not be perfect, I choose to not make a mistake. I readily admit, all too often, this is a much bigger mistake. When did I decide that if I was going to do something that I should do it perfectly?
I also must assert that many people feel God expects humans to strive to be perfect. God wants us to love Him, and to know Him. Greater love for Him and greater knowledge of Him results in an amazing relationship with Him. The outcome of that is we will become more like Him. And yes, God is perfect, but He requirement from us is never perfection, that is our own assertion. Somehow, I can always straighten it out on paper, but in my heart I have jumbled it up once more. I choose not to do something for fear that I will fail. Or I choose not to do another thing because I will not do it as perfectly as I would like.
I choose not to write, or blog because of the immediate exposure. The vulnerability is a heavy weight on my heart. Yet ultimately, I have to come back to the reality that words mean very little in this world, and I admit that I tend to take myself too seriously from time to time.
I am reading a book called Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver. Wow. This is certainly applicable to me in so many areas of my life and heart right now. Many times throughout the day I need to recognize what really matters, and focus on the one the really matters and trust in Him. I am not at all trying to say that this is the point of the book, but it's the best paraphrase I can get right now, and I haven't picked it up in a few days.
In our technology saturated world, it is dreadfully sad that we need to write out our thoughts just so we'll have them before they're interrupted. I think too many of us never bother to feel half of life because we've rushed through it or turned the channel or hit fast-forward or mute, or turned up our i-pod even louder. Using technology to "get away" is such a cop-out, and one I'm definitely guilty of. What's happened to our brains when we can't even process our feelings without writing them down. Are we emotionally retarded by the media at hand? With the world at our fingertips, who would choose to sort through the agony this life often brings us?
I suppose there's one tiny spot in everyone's world where reality will always surface--- those last few moments of wakefulness. And, YET AGAIN- perhaps this is why we need Ambien or Lunesta. The feelings we supress throughout our wakeful state rise to the surface and we cannot drift off to sleep; we may not accept these emotions, and we may not even have the slightest capability of being able to deal with them. So, who do we call? A friend or pastor, a relative or loved one, a trusted counselor? No, a doctor. Here's your prescription, hope it helps.
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against doctors. I'm not even sure I truly have a problem with sleep medicine. However, I do think that we all too often blame our problems on things that are not the culprit. Why? Because it would be easier. It's a lot easier for me to turn on the TV than to really figure out how I'm feeling. It's more convenient for me to ramble on about nothing than to truly listen.
Okay--- enough friends, that may be all the feelings I can muster up right now. Good night.
1 comment:
I drop by to visit after having been away for a while, and I find you anxious about blogging (and yes, other, more important things, as well).
I'll just toss out a couple of observations for what they're worth, words being worth so little and all:
It sounds as though the pressures you're feeling to be perfect are self-imposed, that they're not pressures from others. It's good that that's the case, because it's more pleasant to tell yourself to shut up than it is to say that to other people. But somewhere in this post lurks a lack of self-confidence. You know from the get-go that perfection is unattainable, which is the perfect out for not attempting things. But apparently even your best, though not perfect, doesn't suffice either. Even God only asks only for our best, the expectation being that as we give our best, we get ever-better and give that when the occasion calls for it.
I think the thing to remember is that anyone (you included) who expects to see in you right now a finished, polished product--whether as a writer or as a human being--has unrealistic expectations. How about aiming for the best you can do, knowing that it's not perfect but also knowing that you can learn from your best and, on down the road, improve even on that. Consider the parable of the talents in this regard.
Two last things: 1) It's Ralph Ellison who wrote Invisible Man; Richard Wright wrote, among other things, Native Son and Black Boy; and 2) . . . I'm not going to speculate on what it's doing in a paragraph about repressed thoughts, but: Levitra is an erectile dysfunction drug . . .
Post a Comment