It was good to finally get to talk to you. I feel like you're more solid now, more like somebody I can get to know. You're...like, a person now, with a voice and a personality and a story much different than mine. While you were just in my imagination, voiceless, I converted you into a male replica of me. (Scary thought!! :D ) We'd talk long nights and you'd say just exactly what I was thinking and feel just how I felt. It was all gossamer fibers, though, a kind of daydream I'd weaved of spider's silk strands that got swept away by the solid hand of reality when I talked to you. You're a real person now, someone who's definitely different than me, but somebody I still like talking to. I'm really glad I got the chance to talk to you, and took it.

So those are my thoughts and impressions. And you?

-Stephanie

~*~

(Not entirely connected to above writing.)

Walls

People build all kinds of walls. The most obvious example is of those who are hurting and build walls to keep everyone out of their lives, away from their heart, which has been bruised and battered. Their walls are something people won't touch, whether it's a punk hairstyle, gothic dress, arrogance, anger, or perhaps just silence.

I built walls myself. My heart isn't bruised and battered. I built walls nonetheless. I knew without walls someone could possibly get to my sensitive heart, bruise and break it. I wanted to prevent that. When I learned my dad had been lazy and not helped with Sam and I when we were babies, I built walls to prevent ever learning to see him differently. I didn't want Mom to be wrong, because Mom was ther for me, and Dad was absent. For seven years I listened to Mom and took her at her word about him, believed everything. I grew and realized my mom isn't infallible and curiosity began to break my walls about my dad down. When I got a letter from him, a long letter, saying he still loved me and always had, my walls built to protect my mother's view of him finally came all the way down.

I hung onto doubt. But my heart wanted to believe his words, believe he loved me. I hung onto doubt for Mom's sake, and when I met him at my high school graduation, I let doubt stiffen my arms when he hugged me, fix my eyes on the ground when I wanted to stare at him and find our physical similarities, and chain down my mind when I wanted to wonder how we were similar in personality, likes and dislikes. When Dad volunteered this information in his letters, doubt for my mom's sake still kept me from fully believing him, even though I wanted to.

At 20 years old I see walls I built as a teen, beginning in junior high. I come from a very conservative church background. What my church and my grandparents said was truth from every angle. That's what my church said--so why not believe them? I took a stand against trends in junior high. I didn't want my church or my grandparents to be wrong. So I refused to go to dances, even when my mom said it was okay. I refused to listen to secular music, even when the beat caught my interest. I went so far as to take a stand against all trends, even down to backpacks. Jansport is a backpack brand I have never owned, even though everyone had Jansport backpacks and they were probably good quality.

I was building walls to protect my own identity. Who I was was rooted in my church, my mom and my grandparents. If they were wrong, who was I?

More to come...

previous || next

Miss Something?

Social Anxiety with Guys - February 07, 2024

Education Expo with an ADHD Kid - February 03, 2024

Lovely Church Experience - October 22, 2023

Seek Out Community in Christ - August 29, 2023

Grieving Lost Friendships - May 08, 2023