self revelation

I think the crazy thing about self revelation, is that when you finally come to some new, cool realization about yourself, and you go to tell the people closest to you, they just go something like “um, ya.”  Like, they have known this for years, and are waiting for you to finally clue in.  Like this morning.

I have been feeling GREAT this week.  More weddings than I think I have time for, three kids home for the summer (they’re 7,6 and 4, and crazy), two large breed dogs (one is potty training, still), and all the normal stuff that happens in life.  And, the stress isn’t building.  Why?  Because I’m recognizing things about myself I have up until now chosen to ignore.

It is a culmination of things really.  Some of the people I have been spending time with have crazy busy lives, and it never gets to them.  They’re relaxed, and actually seem to enjoy themselves.  It’s not because they are less busy than me.  Or because they enjoy the craziness of life more – I happen to LOVE being this busy.  It’s because…. It’s because I like being a martyr. Pardon me, Rachel would correct me, and tell me it’s because I like being the victim.  Ewww.  Can’t stand that word.  If there is any failing in humans I dislike, it is self pity.  And, I have been wallowing in it.  Not in the obvious sense though – sin is blinding sometimes, isn’t it?  But in the, my-life-is-crazy-I-have-a-reason-to-act-this-stressed way…  It’s pride too.  Because, deep down (or not so deep down, if friends see what’s going on), I like the affirmation of hearing “I don’t know how you do it all.”  Really?  That’s what I’m looking for?  Craving the acknowledgement that I have it all together, by acting like it’s all falling apart??

It’s sin – because it’s pride.  And, because, really, it’s not about me anyways, or my strength.  If I’m doing it all in my own strength, I’m not doing it in the Lord’s…

I was thinking about my grandfather, who passed away two years ago.  One of his nurses came to the visitation, and told us how much she loved him.  She related a story, of an event that had happened a couple weeks before he passed.  My grandfather had stubbornly refused to be transferred to the hospital.  But he fell one day at home.  And when the nurse came, she looked him over.  And informed him:  “Walter, I think your nose is broken.  You should go in to the hospital, to have that looked at.”  Well, there was no way he was going.  I think he knew there was a chance he would not be released; he was very sick at the time.  So, he grabbed his nose firmly, and started wiggling it back and forth:  “If my nose was broken, could I do THIS??”  She left, knowing he was a stubborn old man, who possessed more strength than you might expect looking at him.   After she shared, I went to look at my grandfather.  Lying there, with a crooked nose.  It was honestly one of the funniest moments, to see his nose forever distorted.  But, it left an indelible mark on me.  Over and over during the next couple days were references to how much he suffered at times, and how little he ever complained.  Hmmm, you don’t have to whine about how much it hurts for people to know??

It’s sad really.  I’ve actually sacrificed my happiness, and my family’s (cuz if momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy), because I would rather indulge in self-pity than suck it up, enjoy the chaos I’ve created, and relax a little… Brad and I discussed this all last night.  And Heather and I this morning.  Heather just says “uh huh.” And I respond: “You’ve known this about me for two years, and haven’t said anything??”  “Two years??” she replies.  Oh.  She thinks I’ve been this way for as long as she’s known me.  Sad.

So.  New me.  We’ll see how long it lasts.  But I’m thinking I’d rather be happy than crazy – and I’m pretty sure most of that is a decision I can make….

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