Done = Art

I am hiding. Hiding from ideas. Hiding from writing. You might see me posting daily paintings and that might look like I'm doing something and not being afraid. But I am still just as afraid as I was yesterday. But when I decide to do something, I do it. If I say that I'm going to post a painting a day, I'll post a painting a day, even if I hate the painting. I should probably have a blog month too, where I have to post every day even if it's terrible.

Everything feels terrible. That's not even the slightest bit true. I actually love life so much right now. It is cold and rainy. Positivity weather for me. I love it! I have a new job. It's an adjustment to my life but I love that too. Everything is pretty fantastic so why did I say it feels terrible?

Because no matter how much I am loving life I still think that my writing and painting is no good. Which is just ridiculous. Because guess what, I am painting and I wasn't before. That is good. I am writing. I wasn't before. That is good. My paintings today are not Monet or van Gogh. But they are mine and they are better than they were a year ago. And they are better than nothing.

The paintings are mine and I take great joy and pride in my paintings. Let me tell you something, I love paint! I love the way it feels when I get it on my hands. I love watching something fluid go smoothly on and how it layers and dries.

But I hide from all of these joys because I am not yet da Vinci. It is scary to share mediocre work and pretend that it is good. But I have to remember that it is not pretending. Of course it's not master work. But it is work. And I love it. I care a lot that other people like it too, but I am trying to not value my paintings on the amount of likes they get. I am allowed to love a painting that got 3 likes even if another got 53. I am allowed to love my work and that is not vanity.

People talk about artists gifts. They call certain artists "gifted."

But I have another secret for you, it is true that some things come more naturally to some than to others, but sometimes to call what someone does "a gift" negates the hours of work they put in to get to that level. The artists true gift is the gift of perseverance. Not giving up even when they feel blocked and uninspired.

And that is the gift that I am struggling with. I may not be a gifted writer or a gifted painter, but the Lord gave me perseverance and dedication. I can be pretty bad at motivating myself, but if I set myself a task I will do it. Which is why I often set myself small tasks, because they are attainable. I can't set myself a task that I might not be able to achieve, not because I'm a perfectionist but because I have to believe it is doable. Setting a goal of a painting a day is achievable because I can put a splat of paint on a canvas and call it done. Done = Art.

But if I set myself the goal of becoming something, or achieving some level of skill then I don't know that I can do that and I will stop before I begin. Art is attainable. Writing is attainable. It doesn't have to be good; it has to be done.

"I will take care of the quantity; He will take care of the quality." - Julia Cameron

Something Is Missing

I feel like my poetic writing is dead. I used to be able to wax poetic about my surroundings and the smell of the air and... I'm stuck looking around for the right word but nothing follows that 'and'.

It is like the words have gone away. There are no words to grasp. They have run away from me and then won't let themselves be captured by my pen. The words are free. But not freely flowing on to my paper. Free to run away. Free to roam the world, not confined to the page anymore. But because of this flight my pages remain blank and unloved.

What remains is an empty sorrow. It is hollow and alone. Colors. Colors might still present themselves to me in a vivid array of madness.

The words contain no order. No sense rests within them unless it be a sense of unease.

Something is missing. It's not just the words that have run away. Something is missing.

Do you hear the silence? Birds are chirping, the wind is stirring the trees, a mechanical whirring sound. But the silence is profound. Months of death. The words aren't escaping into their ownness. They are dying. They are dying from their lack. They have no where to go and no one to walk beside. They sit in the land of no use awaiting the return. But they sit in solitude not knowing their neighbors. Not knowing what to do, because a word alone can't make sense without the other pieces around it. It might have the best location of all but with no neighbors to love, it lives a meaningless life of solitude. But alone it sits. Waiting for the life to breathe into it.

Waiting for the breath of lives.

Under The Bridge Where I Used To Sit

Under the bridge where I used to sit,

It flowed so loudly, and now I hear its quietness.

I hear the same familiar sounds, but there are new ones too.

I hear the quiet whispers of gentler waters.

Was it always this quiet, but I just couldn't hear it?

I am listening now.



I took a few moments to try to write rhymes

But the words want to flow like the waters beside me.

There is structure in a creek, but sometimes it cuts a wider path,

Never minding if it’s doing things right.

I want to mind. I want to get things right.

But I also want to be the water that is so full it can’t be contained by a mere creek bed.



Under the bridge where I used to sit.

There is so much more for me than the mud under my feet.

The creek has more than the mud it glides over.

I am full of that life, but only if I choose it.

Instead I sit in my troubles, unable to hear.

I am listening now.



I am reminded of a song,

but the waters weren’t the ones who were troubled,

I was.

I was on the bridge looking down at calm waters.

But I could not hear them over the pounding of my heart.

Now I am still. I am closer.



Under the bridge where I used to sit

I hear the quietest sounds of the water as well as the loud.

Who knew a creek of barely a few feet could hold so much depth?

The water is truth, cutting its way, raging - now flowing gently.

I am listening now. I am listening.

Speak Lord.

Hinging My Life On One Hope.

“It’s okay to want something and work towards it, but if everything hinges on the achievement of that goal and all will have been for nought if the goal is not achieved, you’re doing it wrong.”

A friend recently said this to me and as obvious as it might seem to some, it was exceedingly striking to me.

I am a very goal oriented person. Sometimes the process is part of that goal, but too often it is a hurdle to get over. Traveling is a super obvious example. I actually have a lot of fondness for car trips, but I really just want to be there already. The same applies to many aspects of my life.

Because of this mentality I have instead been trying to to embrace the process and that means embracing a lot of mess and a lot of failure.

On a recent car trip I was listening to a podcast that was talking about raising perfectionist, and how to avoid that. It is really important to praise someone's process. Not so helpful to only praise the result. It was a little bit terrifying hearing the woman talk about the best way to talk to kids. I'm now petrified of saying the wrong thing. I have to reprogram my entire reaction to things to avoid screwing up the little people, and indeed the adults, in my life.

It's important to see and share the steps of a journey. Even the ugly ones. I don't mean that we should be airing our dirty laundry. I don't think that's useful either, but an example is a before and after photo of a house. People like seeing the steps. They like to see how it went from one thing to another. Because otherwise we're looking at some magic and we only see that someone got from point a to point b but we don't know how. "One thing led to another." Um, okay. How and why did one thing lead to another?

I have recently been saying a lot that I am embracing imperfection. Failure IS an option. But that isn't the goal. The goal is important too! I'm not saying go in to something with the intention of it failing. But just letting life continue if you do fail. I'm not saying that we should not aim for perfection or the ideal. Especially in our spiritual life it is important that we are trying and trying hard. But also being kind to ourselves and others when we aren't perfect. The Lord looks at us with infinite mercy. He wants us to succeed, and He gives us infinite encouragement and help. But He does not turn His back on us when we are not perfect. He is always giving us hope and a way back.

When I travel by car or by plane I just want to be there already. I would love to be able to apparate and skip the traveling part. That is true of some skills too. I would love to skip the learning process of ukulele. It's slow and I feel like a beginner all the time, even though I have been playing for over a year.

But with painting, I don't want to skip the process. If I skipped the process and just had finished paintings around my room I wouldn't care about them. But when I paint something I see the process as I go. I take a picture and I post a half finished painting to embrace the process and to know that I created something because I put in the effort. And I will continue to put in the effort and make it better. Painting is a process that I love even though it is never perfect. And it's only one of the many things that makes me happy. Life is more than one thing. It has to be.

How To Deal With A Difficult Nalison: a useless instruction manual.

Sometimes I'm afraid of admitting a solution to something for fear that someone will throw it in my face when all I want to do is complain.

I probably complain too much, but sometimes you gotta vent. And I when I want to vent I'm not looking for solutions. I'm not looking for advice, I just want to be acknowledged. I want someone to realize that I'm having a tough time.

I have a lot of nieces, so you won't know who I'm talking about. But recently one of my nieces was worrying about her alarm not going off, not waking up in time, not being ready and she was concerned.

It was obvious to any adult that these were not as life threatening as she thought them. An adult can recognize that she was tired and just needed to go to sleep and everything would be better. Said child was reassured that it was going to be okay. They would wake her up. She wouldn't miss anything. Nothing that awful was going to happen. But she was sure the world was ending.

But you know what? I so relate. I am a little older than my niece. While others might recognize sooner than I what my problem is, I often recognize it too. But I don't want to admit it.

I start feeling sullen and upset and I realize that I didn't eat breakfast, or lunch. I am hangry. Someone else might realize this, but a wise person would not suggest "Hey, Alison, when was the last time you ate something?" because they might get their fingers bitten off.

I was sick for the second half of December until nowish. Still recovering. Been so exhausted and had no energy to do anything. Not moving, not doing anything is a perfect recipe for feeling like utter crap. Physically and emotionally.

A smart person might realize that I need to get out on a walk, or listen to music, or any number of things. A wise person would not suggest this for fear of getting yelled at.

So, if a Nalison is being difficult, what IS the proper procedure?

Well, if I told you, you'd probably suggest it to me when I was upset and then I'd be furious at you and then I'd just feel worse for being mad and for snapping at you.

Sometimes I need food, sometimes I need music, sometimes I need walks and dancing, and I always need hugs. I want to feel heard. I want my feelings listened to, not dismissed.


This blog post has probably come across as a whiny self-serving post, and it probably isn't even serving me that well. Cause you know what? When you friend is being a jerk you DO just want to say "Shut up and get over yourself!" When your child is crying over spilled milk, or faulty alarm clocks, you are fairly justified in telling them that they don't get to whine about it. I'm not criticizing the parent who tells their kid to get over something trivial.

I think that my point is that even if you can see that something is trivial, it doesn't feel trivial in the moment, to the child or to the thirty year old woman.

Write something boring.

What do I want to write today? I don't know, but I know I want to write something!

I've been having fun looking at different layouts and gadgets and what nots for my blog. That's fun!

I often feel like I have to write a certain thing, or change up what I write about. But usually just writing whatever I feel like writing is the most useful. For me, and I think for others.

A friend once said that all you have to do is write the truth and people will relate.

Sometimes the truth is great. Sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's boring, haha.

I'm really enjoying the random color sketches I've written. Just two so far, but somehow writing about my interaction with colors and the colors interactions with each other has been a really cool exercise and it has taught me about trust.

I wanted write another one but my thought process went something like this: Nah. I can't write about the same thing again. I should write another blog post that isn't some weird undefined thing.

But really I think I should just write what I want to write, and write when I want to write. I mean, usually I frown upon just doing whatever you feel like. Thought is good. But I think that the worst case scenario for just writing whatever is that I write something boring. Cause even if I wrote something hurtful or evil anyone reading it would be able to look at it and have their own thoughts about it, and they might even be useful thoughts.

So, worst case scenario, anyone reading this is like "Hmm, waste of time" and they stop reading it.

I'm okay with that.

Reflections on painting

Sometimes I tell myself to wait. Like today, I wanted to make some reflections about painting. I'm two paintings away from being done my month long commitment to paint. I should wait for two more days to reflect on this. But I should never stop myself from writing on the rare occasions when I feel inspired to write before I even begin.

So I'm reflecting on painting, two days before the end.

I just went through my album and looked at each of my paintings. Some I didn't want to look at for very long, and others I lingered on for a few moments before clicking to the next. And you know what? I like my paintings. And I can see improvement. When I take the time to paint something, it turns out well!

I was worried that switching back to watercolors after 24 days of oils would be a challenge, but challenges are good. My watercolors are fine, and I miss oils, but even over 4 days of watercolors I am improving that skill again! I painted watercolors every day two years ago, and very sporadically since. I have only done 4 watercolors this September. The first two are okay, but I really like the most recent two. There are always things I could improve, but that's a dumb thing to observe. I'm gonna focus on the fun techniques and skills I'm learning and just linger on the good feelings of actually being good at something!

Yesterday's watercolor!

You know Ron Weasley? You know how when he looks in the Mirror of Erised he sees himself as Quidditch captain and head boy? He's only an 11 year old boy longing for some recognition. He feels overshadowed by his 5 older brothers.

I hate to say that I feel overshadowed by my siblings because I love them and never felt a lack of love or recognition because there were many of us. If anything, I got more love from having such a large family.

Ron definitely loves his family too and there's no lack in the Weasley household, but he does long for something of his own, and then of course (spoiler alert) he goes on to help save the wizarding world from the evilest wizard ever. I think he succeeded in doing something original.

Where was I going with this? Ah, yes. I still strive for some sort of originality, something that makes me unique from others. I already wrote a blog post about wanting to be unique in my writing and realizing that I only need to tell the truth to write well. Is it the same for painting? Do I tell truths with my paint brush?

I don't know. A thought just struck me so I'm gonna write it and see if it rings true: Write truths, paint loves. I dunno, you clearly need truth and love to write and love and truth to paint. So whatever. It was just a thought.

I don't need to stand out to be worth something. I don't need to save the wizarding world or even my world. I just need to keep moving along, writing the best that I can, painting the best that I can, and being okay on the days when my writing sucks and my paintings aren't working. I'm still good at these things, even when I'm bad at them.

We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand.

Sharing is scary. I think it's the fear that someone will try to piece together who I am from the things I share.

"What's wrong with that?" you ask? Good question. Because I get to choose what I share, just as I get to choose what I share in a face to face conversation, just as I choose how to present myself with my clothing and hair and everything.

So what is the fear? There is always vulnerability in sharing anything with anyone, but that is the only way we are to be known. And we want to be known, don't we? Is it that we want to craft exactly how we share ourselves with others? So that we don't let some false notion of who we are creep in to the other person's understanding of us? Cause that's totally possible (insert sarcastic voice)!

Therefore writing should be a safer way of letting people in than a conversation. Because you have the ability to stop writing... and think for a moment about how you want to put out an idea from your mind. You can stop in conversations too, but when you write something to share you can stop for days and no one will ever know how long it was between this word.... and the next.

In writing you have the ability to really craft yourself and look at just how you want to present yourself and your ideas to others. So is it really fear than that I'm fighting? Or is it something else? Could it be shame?

Conversations should hold plenty of meaning, but the idea of an article is a well crafted and informed opinion. It's like in college when I would sit down to an exam and the teacher would have a list of essay questions to write down in one of those little blue books. You weren't expected to have your argument fully crafted and beautifully written. But if the teacher gave you the questions ahead of time, then if you didn't do well that was your own fault and you should have spent more time on the questions before the exam.

In college I never cared about my grades, but I did care that my teachers respected me and my work. I was lucky enough to go to a college where the teachers cared so much about their students. My favorite day was when I was walking through the hallways and my professor stopped me, ran back into his office and came back with my paper, flipped open to the last page and showed me that I had gotten an A!

I cared so little for the A, but it meant the world to me that he liked my work and not only that, but also that he was so excited to show me. He wanted to be there.

So why the shame or fear? I think it is the worry that nothing is perfect. I can have a conversation because that's still working through ideas. It's the point of conversing. But in an article I feel like I'm supposed to come to a conclusion. I am supposed to have accomplished something. And I only feel ready to share it if it is perfect.

This touches all areas of my life. For 2017, I created a resolution to learn ukulele.  And to record and share a song at least once a month. So far I've posted at least twice a month. In the summer I started a blog (Hello readers!). I believe that this is my 27th post. For September I decided to paint every day. And to share every day. I've never done oil painting before!

This creativity, I believe, is all in order to get over this ridiculous notion that everything I share ought to be perfect. I post ukulele songs where I make mistakes, or just aren't very polished. I share unfinished paintings and free flowing thought. I have this blog, but I have yet to share any posts with more than a few people because it feels like too big a window into mind.

But so often my writing is an exploration of my thoughts. It isn't usually explaining something to others, it's explaining something to myself. It's exploring a topic so that I can understand my own failings and do better. I just came across this quote and I really like it:

I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand. ― Cecil Day-Lewis

I think that's the crux of it. I have a hard time trying to write something in order to prove a point to someone or to enlighten my reader. I write to sharpen my own thoughts. Convincing others of something seldom works anyway. So I just like to share my ideas and I hope that others get something out of it too.

Are all feelings valid?

Are all feelings valid? I've seen a few articles recently about letting kids feel the feels. And some people have said that they don't think it IS valid for kids to be allowed to express all their emotions. But I think it depends on some definitions.

What does "express" mean?

Express - convey (a thought or feeling) in words or by gestures and conduct.

I guess I believe in freedom of speech, but I also believe in consequences. I don't think children OR adults should just be allowed to scream anything.

So, I guess I'd say that humans should be allowed to FEEL the feelings, but not necessarily allowed to express them. Some gestures, conduct or words are just not appropriate. I think everyone realizes that.

When I think about things that I feel, I KNOW that they're crazy, or even wrong. And that can make it so much worse that I feel them. So I would like people to acknowledge my feelings but not to validate them. Some feelings are not valid, but that doesn't mean I don't feel them.

A very basic example is when I get cold. I remember as a kid my brothers saying things like, "It's not cold. I'm not cold!" and I would look down at my arms covered in goosebumps and think to myself "Um, I didn't choose to feel cold. I'm not doing this on purpose, to annoy you. I cannot change the fact that I feel cold. I don't care what temperature it is, my body is shivering!" but I didn't usually say anything. I would just get angry because I couldn't express to them that I couldn't control my body temperature.

But what about emotions? Can we choose what emotions we feel? Do we have control over them? I'd say that we don't have control over the thoughts and feelings that come into our heads and hearts, but we can control what we do with them once they're there.

Someone once said, "You can't choose what thoughts enter your head, but you can control which ones you invite in for tea." The point being that you are not responsible for the thoughts that come in to your head. If you see someone and your thought is "I wanna kill that person," you don't have to make yourself guilty of that feelings you can immediately be like "Ugh! I don't want to think that!" and kick it out of your head. If you sit there thinking about all the ways to kill that person, then you're culpable. You are inviting the thought in for tea. Meditating on some evil.

So yeah, if someone says "I feel ___." The reaction should never be "No, you don't feel that way." That's not helpful and it's not true. You cannot know what another person is feeling. If they tell you how they are feeling you don't get to contradict them.

People often want to make someone feel better so if I were to say to a friend "I feel useless. I feel like I'm not lovable" and he responded in well-meaning kindness "No! You are very lovable and such a useful person" that might seem like a kind thing to say, but all he has done is invalidate my feelings.

I believe that the appropriate response is "I'm sorry that you are feeling that way. How can I help you?" He doesn't have to agree with me. He doesn't have to say that the feelings are valid, but he should acknowledge that I do in fact feel that way whether or not I should.

If a friend were to say to me "I don't feel love for my husband." I should not respond "Yes you do! Let me remind you why!" I should say "Oh man! I'm so sorry. That sucks. I'm sorry you feel that way! What can I do?" Of course I would want to help her remember why she loves her husband, but I think it's important to acknowledge what the other person is feeling before trying to make it better.

So, with adults you can acknowledge, but not affirm feelings, but can you do the same with children?

If a kid falls down and sees that an adults is watching they oftentimes will burst into tears because they want comfort. So I try not to react strongly to a kid falling down. I usually pick them up and cheerfully say something like "Oops! Are you okay?" Gasping nearly always results in the child wailing. Is that wrong? Is that distracting the kid from expressing their emotions? But if they really are okay, it's not really doing them a service to let them wail. And if they are truly upset or hurt (physically or emotionally) is it then okay to let them cry?

I think so, but sometimes if a kid is upset by something like spilled milk is crying really warranted? I  want to be able to tell my kids that that isn't worth crying over. And maybe if they need to cry that other people don't need to hear it. I guess people should be allowed to cry if they want to, but no one is obligated to feel sorry for them if they do.

Another thing I find myself wondering about is saying "It's okay" to a crying child or baby. I used to think that perhaps that wasn't a fair thing to tell them. "You're okay" "It's okay" sounds like it's brushing off their feelings and not letting them emote. But a few nights ago I was holding a crying baby and found myself rubbing her back and saying "It's okay to cry. It's okay." And realized that I wasn't trying to talk her out of crying, I was trying to reassure her that the crying was okay. "It's okay to feel sad."

Because sometimes you just feel sad, like you just feel cold. I can't change how I feel, but I can always choose what I do about it.

Crying: Is it secret? Is it safe?

Ah ha! Writing the crap was useful. I just want to write all the things. I want to work on my stalled out story, I want to write more blog posts and feel all the feels.

I don't know what I want to write about, but it's through writing that I get inspired to write. I just start rambling about life and sometimes it continues to ramble and sometimes it becomes something.

I am a super supressor. Of tears, of emotions. And I want to let them out. I want to cry for nearly no reason right now. I cried twice in the last two days which is a lot for me, and I want to cry more. It's like writing. Writing inspires more writing, crying inspires more crying.

Does the writing have to mean anything for it to be worth it? Does the crying have to mean anything to be worth it? I want to cry because my shoulder hurts. Not badly. Not the kind of pain that really induces aching tears, but it hurts a fraction and that should be enough to let me cry. Haha.

I've always wondered why crying is so hard for me. As a child I cried a lot. My Daddy let me cry. I never felt suppressed in my childhood. I cried a lot. I think because a) I was an emotional child and the feelings were real and valid and b) I was a manipulative child (like all children?) and used tears to get my way. Thinking back on it, I can't ever remember fake crying (but that certainly doesn't mean I didn't do it) but I think I most often used real sad feelings to get my way.

So, I wasn't stunted as a child. 

Or was I?

I think one of the things that prevents me from crying most often is worrying about what other people will think of me. I don't want people to pity me and I don't want people to worry about me or maybe even care about me. That's strong, but I really don't like manipulating people with my emotions. I want people to care about me because I've logically convinced them that I'm worth caring about. I am always worried that people will agree to things that they don't actually want to.

Setting aside tears, when I ask someone for something or if they want to do something, I am of course afraid of rejection. It's human to fear rejection. But I'm also really afraid that they will say "yes" to something that they wish they could say no to. I live in fear of people agreeing to things they don't want.

So back to tears, I am afraid of other people reacting to my tears. Here I sit, across from another human. If I were to start crying while writing I assume that he would notice, probably even stop what he was doing and ask if I was okay. I don't want him to stop his work to deal with me. But I'd probably feel worse if I sat here crying and he didn't react at all. And so my only option is to sit here, suppressing the tears that want to squish out of my eyes. I can feel them. I don't have any idea what they're doing there or what they mean. My little Inside Out people in my brain didn't tell me why anything should be sad right now. I don't feel sad. I don't feel neglected or anything. I just really like crying. But I also hate it.

And while it might seem ridiculous to hold back the silly unlabeled tears, I honestly FEEL like I will FEEL better if I just hold them in and don't let them disrupt other peoples' lives. And yet, I bet a lot of people would actually feel like their day held more meaning if they comforted a friend.

If I trade places with my friend how would I feel? Would I feel happy to give up on this journal entry to help a friend? Of course I would! So why can't I treat myself the same way?

Do I feel the same way about other emotions? If I were writing something else and started laughing, would I feel disruptive? Would I feel bad? No, I think that it is much easier to ignore a slight laugh than the silent trickling tears. A friend might ask what is funny, but they certainly wouldn't be remiss if they didn't ask. If I couldn't stop laughing then sure, some conversation might ensue. But it is definitely a different type of thing. Partly because I wouldn't mind getting someone out of their mood to laugh with me or to enjoy something fun or funny that I could share.

But I have been in the opposite place of being with friends, laughing and having a good time and then having someone show up in tears and killing the mood. Did I want to comfort this crying man? Not particularly, I did feel jarred into a completely different mood. Was it wrong of him to kill the atmosphere that we had created with laughter and fun? Is it wrong of me to think that perhaps he could have chosen a different way to enter? I know that if I were coming to a party and felt like crying I wouldn't have showed up, or I would have come, pulled aside a friend and asked for some support.

And of course I have been in situations with friends where through conversation or whatever they begin to cry and that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. I just want to hug them and love them and care for them and I don't feel like I am being manipulated or any such nonsense. 

I don't have the answers. I just know that I am afraid. Far too often I am afraid. Are my feelings valid? Does valid have anything to do with it? Ah yes, I will write another post on whether or not feelings are valid and what I think about that! But for now, I will end this somewhat sad entry and maybe go work on my story.

Self expression and fear

Turns out that I'm afraid of everything.

Music choices, clothing choices, hair choices, makeup choices, food choices, movie choices, writing choices, ALL choices. Why must I be so afraid of having an opinion?

But it's not even having an opinion that scares me. I used to have all the opinions in college. I would engage in Facebook debates. I would engage in discussions and arguments with people in college. I still like to toss opinions into a mix, usually they're detached opinions though.

The other day someone pointed out to me that though I have some strong opinions I don't hold on to them with my feelings. We were having a discussion about what is and is not working for us with the church as an organization. I have plenty of opinions, but I just sorta pull the pin, chuck a small grenade and don't have emotion attached to it. This is just my description of what this person was trying to express about what I had to offer. She was complimenting me, and I appreciated it.

But thinking on it now, I think that it's a defense mechanism. I have opinions, but if they're detached from my feelings then I don't have to care about if people reject or accept them. I just let them be. This can be a useful thing, but I think for me it is a wall I put up to protect myself from hurt.

I fear judgment. I guess? Is that it?

I have long been afraid of sharing a playlist. Why? I'm worried that people will not like the music I picked? Or worried that they will judge me by my musical tastes? I have mostly gotten over this fear.

For the most part I don't care if people like my clothes or not. I also got over this one a long time ago. I am fairly used to not caring what people think of my attire. Skirts are not always appreciated. I no longer care. That isn't to say that I'm not touched when people compliment me. I do appreciate that. And I'm hurt if people are unkind too. But the assumed negative judgments are gone. I don't know why I have these assumed negative judgments in the first place.

Why is there so much fear?!?

I am reflecting on a private journal entry I wrote in November 2014. Here are a few excerpts:

"You are being selfish." 

"You're taking the truth and twisting it till it becomes falsity." 

These are words that were spoken to me today. I think it may be the best relationship advice anyone has ever given to me.

And another:

I told a friend that I always want to hear someone elses opinion first, and he called me selfish. Because I'm forcing the other person to be vulnerable first. It IS selfish, and this is where the falsity comes in too. All falsities are linked to some truth, and what I'm doing is taking a truth (that manipulation is bad) and twisting it as an excuse to not really let my emotions engage. I can talk up a huge strom about things I care about, but showing that I care? That's vulnerable and scary, and it is NOT maniuplation. THAT is the falstity!

I can't actually tell at this moment if this makes sense out of context. But it's making sense to me so I'm leaving it in. The point is that I am afraid. And my fear is making me selfish. Am afraid of being vulnerable so I let someone else be vulnerable (even on a minuscule level) and then I shut them down.

An easy, and entirely stupid example is anytime we go to choose a movie. Do I have an opinion? Almost for sure, but I don't often share it because I'd rather get my second choice than deprive someone of their first. Does that make sense? See, it makes sense to me, and it seems noble. And that's where hell comes in. Swooping in, using a true idea and twisting it into something false.

This is why it's stupid, because I let the hells disturb even the simplest of tasks. Choosing a movie should not be a battle between heaven and hell. Or should it? Is everything? No, see, this is the thing: it's taking a small idea and blowing it out of proportion. But sometimes we must magnify the issue in order to see it for what it is. In this instance I can laugh and realize that declaring a decided movie preference is not going to make or break any friendships. And if it were to... those wouldn't be friendships worth keeping if a simple movie choice could bring it down.

See? See how insane my mind is? It's even terrifying letting anyone into this little piece of it. Because it seems so insane when I write an entire journal entry about it. Fear is crushing! So so crushing. So I hide away in a ridiculous little hole and let hell make me feel smaller and smaller until I am nothing. And in being so crushed I become paralyzed by fear and I have to remember to let the Lord flow through me. It is not I who need be afraid. Be still my soul, the Lord is on my side. It is hell that need fear the wrath that I am unleashing. Fear no more! I shall conquer!

One step at a time. Wonderful friends are encouraging me. I created a blog. These posts are public! That's one step. Sharing this post to Facebook? Alerting all the people to it? That is a step I shall one day be able to make, but for now, writing this at all is a step. One step at a time.

To quote a lyric from my dear friend's song:

One drop at a time with patience, trust, and hope
Let the water of life build my strength again

Working on it. One step at a time. Why is it so hard to trust the Lord's own words?

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Matthew 5:16