Inner|Outer

“If we give priority to the outer life, our inner life will be dark and scary. We will not know what to do with solitude. We will be deeply uncomfortable with self-examination, and we will have an increasingly short attention span for any kind of reflection. Even more seriously, our lives will lack integrity. Outwardly, we will need to project confidence, health and wholeness, while inwardly we may be filled with self-doubts, anxieties, self-pity, and old grudges. Yet we won’t know how to go into the inner rooms of the heart, see clearly what is there, and deal with it. In short, unless we put a priority on the inner life we turn ourselves into hypocrites.” – Timothy Keller, Prayer 

One of the things about being an internal processor is that it makes me more prone to over analysing everything. This was solidified last week when my counsellor said, “You process everything so well on you’re own that I’m not always even sure how to help you. Girl, you’re even good at therapy.” Can I get that skill endorsed on my Linkdin page? Ha. But really, this more or less constant state of self-reflection is something I like about myself and on the other hand, it also drives me f-ing crazy. While it involves being well-thought out and intentional, it also means that I have worried a great deal on the inside about how things appear on the outside. I have given priority to my outer life more times than I can count. After all, it’s what people see that matters, right? Honestly, would we be as content with our relationships, talents, humour, appearance, and thoughts if we didn’t post them and receive the instant gratification of it being liked, shared, and commented on? Do we alone attribute value to those aspects of our own lives, or is some part of their worth in the hands of those we share them with? I don’t know.

I can sit at my computer and write about how much I’ve grown since moving here, how much courage I’ve gained, how strong I feel, etc., and all of those are true to some degree because I have made efforts to prioritize my inner life, but they’re still simply projections. I’ve had to face the fact that what I project is where I want to be and/or where I think other people want me to be. However, that is usually not where I really am.

Facing where you really are involves moving out of your own way. I’ve had to be conscious of where my thoughts drift to when nothing is forcing me to think about anything in particular and I’m not looking at a screen. That tells me a lot. The whole world-turned-upside-down-type stuff that has happened in my life this past year has made the inner rooms of my heart a very hard place to frequent. When I’m down, I keep picturing Jillian Michaels in that 30 Day Shred workout video screaming, “Get comfortable with being uncomfortable!” That’s pretty much how it feels. Being on my own a lot…call it loneliness, call it solitude, has allowed me to see clearly what is there and I’m going to deal with it. The only thing that stands in the way of me getting to the place where my inside and outside match is me. As the brilliant Flannery O’Connor wrote in her prayer journal, “Dear God, I cannot love Thee the way I want to…I do not know You God because I am in the way…I have started on a new phase of my spiritual life…the throwing off of certain adolescent habits and habits of mind. It does not take much to make us realize what fools we are, but the little it takes is long in coming. I see my ridiculous self by degrees.”

Reading that I thought, daaaamn that woman is honest. And then it hit me…

Being honest.

That is what has made going inward, seeing, and dealing so difficult. That’s what is uncomfortable. I have become even more conscious of honesty since being immersed in a culture that is generally put off by it. I have been learning how to be brutally honest in prayer. I find it weird. Unsettling. It takes practice. I have always gone about my conversations with God in a beautifully civil manner. Sure, I’ve prayed through a good sob session plenty of times but lately its gotten real real…you know what I mean? Angry. Pissed. Gutted. Destroyed. Lots and lots of expletives. My entire life I have been keeping myself composed in front of the one from whom I can hide nothing. I just didn’t get to experience the goodness that comes from brutal honesty until I moved out of my own way. Until I abandoned composure. Until I started identifying where I am really at, venting like its my job, and processing it all without an ounce of restraint in God’s presence.

Praying is something I’ve done for as long as I can remember. Although it is the most referenced and commonly shared practice among all faiths, I think that prayer/meditation is one of the most talked about and least understood things ever.  For me, the confusion lies in that prayer is one of the ways I most profoundly experience God’s presence, and yet it is what makes me most aware of God’s absence. Keller also writes,”Perhaps we are so used to being empty that we do not recognize the emptiness as such until we start to try to pray.” Perhaps it is that loneliness which fuels our hunger; a hunger that is eventually always satisfied because ultimately, prayer is communion with God and that reciprocal love is God’s greatest desire.

Love,

Taylor

Good Girl

I’m sitting on my therapist’s couch, clenching wads of damp, mascara covered kleenax in my fist.

I’m a crier. If you get me alone and talking about anything remotely emotional, the tears just flood in. It’s uncontrollable. I don’t even mean to most of the time. I try not to. It’s something I used to feel like I had to apologize for.

My parents tell me that when I was a little kid all they had to do was give me a look or raise their voice and I would start sobbing in remorse. Apparently their mild signs of disappointment were enough of a punishment for me. And this is still a thing. A while ago someone wrote me a lengthy message all about why and how this particular thing I had done was wrong. It wasn’t even something I had done to this person, but they wanted to make their opinion known and because I felt like they were disappointed in me, it ate at me for weeks. I cried. I wrote replies and deleted them. I was praying to get a sense of whether there was something I needed to feel ashamed of. I felt self-conscious and worried until I came to a point of realizing I had absolutely nothing to apologize for. I was okay with this thing. The other person involved was okay with this thing. The person who wrote me the message was not okay with it, but did they really know everything going on? No. The point being…I tend to base how I’m doing/feeling on how other people are doing/feeling and it’s really annoying.

“So, if you weren’t being the care taker or the good girl, then who would you be?” my therapist asks me.

An impostor, but a less stressed and anxious impostor. No…I don’t know.

I get what she’s doing. She wants me to connect these roles to my own self-worth. And she’s right. Because in my mind, if I’m not sending you a random card in the mail, or bringing you soup when you’re sick, or driving you to the airport at 4:30 AM, or buying you coffee, or volunteering for your event, then you won’t have any reason to like me or desire to do the same for me. And if I’m not always encouraging, forgiving, listening, reachable, peaceful, putting the needs of others before my own, accomplishing my goals, following the rules, making sure everyone understands me and is okay with who I am, etc., then I’m not being a good girl. I feel worthless if I’m not those things. That’s been one of the hardest parts of getting divorced; not feeling “good” anymore. And it’s not like anyone is making me feel that way. I’m doing it to myself. Why? Because for me, it’s always been the wrong/bad choice and all these other choices piled up that led to the “bad” one. It’s the whole thing where the one thing you would never let happen, happens and life becomes painfully ironic. Sigh.

But I can’t just turn these instincts off. I’m probably always going to try too hard to do the right thing. I will feel insanely guilty if you’re ever unhappy with me. I’m always going to worry too much about how other people are doing. And maybe swear words will always sound contrived coming out of my mouth and I’ll never have the ability to smoke or take a shot without looking absolutely ridiculous. But hey, it’s cool guys. I have this sense of obligation to be someone no one needs to worry about, someone who doesn’t ask for much, someone who has it together, someone who is always reliable and conscientious. Someone who lives her life in the lines. Creative, colorful lines, but still organized in a particular fashion.

Maybe a sense of obligation isn’t the right phrase because I’m fairly certain it is ingrained in me. I’m okay with that. I wouldn’t want to be someone else. But I’m working on catching myself before I step too far, you know? There has to be a happy medium between, “Hey! These beautiful qualities make up the fabulous being before you” and,”You’re trying way too hard and becoming increasingly detrimental to your own mental health. Chill, lady.”

So, I’m working on not getting taken advantage of. On not feeling hurt when I give and don’t get what I’d expect in return. On not doing something because I should or shouldn’t but instead because I want or don’t want to. I’m navigating my way through the past, trying to piece together what happened that caused me to arrive at this particular place. And in doing so, I’m processing how to move forward and be more in tune with my own wants and needs. I’m trying to find my voice and not be afraid of it. I’m getting better at bracing other people’s emotions and opinions without making it all about me. Because honestly, (and this is what my therapist is so good at reminding me of) I’m not all that important. And that’s a relief.

Love,

Taylor

Therapy

The first time I saw a therapist was after my parents divorced my freshman year of high school. I didn’t care for it much at the time. 

The first time I chose to go to a therapist was my senior year of high school when I decided to finally deal with my parent’s divorce. Ha.

The next time I went to therapy was after I spent a year with YWAM (if you’ve ever been in YWAM you should understand why), which happened to coincide with pre-marital counseling. I have been going on and off ever since. 

I love it!

I wish that there weren’t a stigma surrounding it. I wish that if you told someone you were on your way to counseling they wouldn’t automatically assume you’re suicidal, have an eating disorder, or in a nasty divorce. There are a million reasons why someone might need mental health help, one being simply, just because. 

I think everyone should seek counseling at some point. My husband Clayton (after working with kids diagnosed with psychological disorders) said, “We’re all just one traumatic experience away from literally going crazy.” I think this is true. 

I also think it’s the best thing in the world to have someone ask me questions that no one else would ask me or come up with. Questions that make me rethink my whole outlook or cause me to notice my behaviors and/or reactions to things. I love that my therapist only knows me. She doesn’t have a relationship with my family or any of my friends. She just cares about my mental state. I love that my therapist will call me on my shit and it isn’t hurtful or offensive because she’s not my best friend, it’s just her job. I love therapy because it helps me to be a more balanced, inquisitive, and self-reflective person. 

For example, last week my therapist had me bring in collage images that either represented myself in some way or that I was simply drawn to. Then we discussed each one and the placement of the images in relation to one another. At first I thought it sounded a little cliche, but I was surprised at what I learned about myself and it impacted things I did this week. 

I wish mental and physical health weren’t largely considered two separate entities in our world, because they really aren’t. When my mind is happy, I’m more likely to eat better, be more active, and maintain healthy relationships and vice versa. It all works together, people. 

So, if you have ever thought about seeing a counselor, I would encourage you to give it a try. Our world is very depressed from all the global warming, social media, unemployment rates, unaffordable education, war, famine, trafficking, disease and stuff. There’s no shame in talking to someone, even if it’s about your middle-class white girl problems. 

Love, 
Taylor

P.S. I thought I would give everyone a break from having to read about Miley Cyrus’ VMA performance. You’re welcome.