States of blindness

My sophomore year of high school, I had some very strange heath problems going on. Part of that situation involved being completely blind in my left eye and about 75% blind in my right. You didn't know that, did you??! It's all better now, don't worry, but it lasted about a year and it made those 10 months absolutely miserable.

Until that year, I had perfect vision so I knew what it was like to see clearly. But  being legally blind meant that I couldn't see clearly at all. I could see light and basic shapes and if I tried really hard with a large font, I could manage to read what was absolutely necessary. I couldn't see what everyone else could see. And what I could see did not come easily. Each day as my eyes opened from sleep, they were immediately stressed into trying to see what they couldn't. I wanted so desperately to see clearly again.

Now that my physical eyesight has recovered, I'm afraid I still cannot see clearly.
I cannot see myself the way others see me.

You tell me you love me and 

my automatic thought is "why?"

I've been told repeatedly that I'm very likable and she enjoys spending time with me

but I don't understand what makes me likable or why she'd enjoy our time together.

When I was visiting my parents a few months ago, 

my mother called me pretty for the first time I can remember 

and it felt sooooooooooo weird. 

Yesterday afternoon, I was chatting it up with a former professor turned mentor/friend briefly mentioning something I am applying for and she asked me how I felt about it--I said I thought I wasn't worthy of the opportunity. She cast a downward gaze as she shook her head and chuckled. I've gotten that response from people many times before when I say similar things. The underlying message of the looking down, head shaking, chuckle is "Em, that's ridiculous. You've gotta see how much you have to offer." Yesterday I asked what the chuckle was about and she simply said "you are so wrong and I want you to see what I see in you."

Why can I know that's what others think

but not believe it myself?

What happened to keep me from believing, 

really believing?

Why can't I see myself as others see me?

The super rational part me me answers that saying that they just don't see me honestly--they see the positive things they want to see and ignore the not so great things that I cannot deny.

To an extent, that may be right, but there are people in this world who know all my crap--as much of it as I am aware of myself--and still think much better about me than I do.

What is keeping me from believing I'm loveable...or even just likable? 

What am I afraid of? 

I want SO DESPERATELY for my eyes to open.

I want to see in myself what others see in me.

I want to see myself clearly--to accept it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

This blindness is so much like the blindness I struggled with five years ago. 

I know I'm missing out. 

The More the Merrier

Wouldn't our lives be easier with 26 hours in the day?
Wouldn't it be nice to have an unlimited amount of money?
Wouldn't you like to eat whatever you want as much as you want without consequences?

If you answered 'yes' to any or all these questions, you probably think positively when you hear the words "the more the merrier." Right now, I don't.

In the middle of having a difficult conversation on facebook chat and feeling like my heart had been stretched too far and was now being ripped apart, I scrolled down the list of friends who were online in search of someone I could share my feelings with. I wanted someone to simply remind me that I am loved and have a purpose and a future full of hope.

I scrolled. And scrolled. And scrolled. And I came up empty.

Friends, it's not like it's 3am and the natural humans are all asleep. We're talking 10:15/10:30pm--not late by anyone's standards. Even my parents have been known to stay up that late on occasion.

Facebook tells me I have 831 friends and that 53 are online at this moment. But somehow I have 53 friends online who I cannot share my feelings with.

More is not necessarily merrier. I'd rather have 1 friend online that I can feel comfortable and safe and loved with.

Synthesis: shalom

"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all.  Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle.

The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours." -Ayn Rand  

I'm in a class on the Old Testament Psalms this semester, and in this class, we talk about Hebrew words more than we talk about English it seems. On the first day of class some 6 weeks ago, Dr. Asen spoke about "shalom." It's a word we've all likely heard before and most of us translate it to mean "peace"...but, as Dr. Asen described, it means far more than peace.


Hebrew words go beyond their spoken pronunciation. Each Hebrew word conveys feeling, intent and emotion. Shalom is more then just simply peace; it is a complete peace. It is a feeling of contentment, completeness, wholeness, well being, and harmony.


"The best way I've heard 'shalom' explained to me," Dr. Asen shared, "came from a Jewish Rabbi who explained it as meaning 'I hope all the pieces of your life fit together'."

I hope all the pieces of your life fit together.

I've been working to fit the pieces of my life together recently--the past memories with the present situation with the hope of the future. It's complicated but important. 

I feel like it may be one of those unattainable ideals that we continue striving for despite knowing we will never actually get there. That sucks. The 'unattainable ideal' has been a common theme in my life recently--things I want but know can never be reality. In another one of my classes [spiritual exercises], we are contemplating this issue and learning how to live with these sorts of things. We are becoming intentional about observing the difference between the things we can control and those we can't. 

I may not necessarily be able to fit the pieces of my life together all myself but I can be open to the changes necessary for this to happen--letting people know which pieces don't fit, letting people love me, loving myself, acknowledging that it's okay that all the pieces do not fit together right now, and so on. It's a mindful contemplation focused on believing that the ideal I cherish is something I can work towards.

Friends, shalom, I hope the pieces of your life fit together. I hope, someday, you will look upon the entirety of your life and smile--not out of happiness for the pain, not denying the suffering, but seeing the completeness of the puzzle with all the pieces fit together.

Hopeful conflict

There's this "letter to my younger self" someone wrote and it really speaks to my heart right now. I feel like the "younger self"in some ways though I have the intellectual capacity of the "older self"--seems I'm caught awkwardly in between the two. I am hopefully conflicted. 

Earlier this week I gave a talk about conflict to an on-campus group and saw (and was told) that many hearts were moved and my words came at a right time. I spoke with the intention of reframing conflict as a good thing. We are so scared of a friend "getting mad" that we often don't verbalize the things that are bothering us. We are skeptical but do not want to engage the two sides because "well, what if they don't ever become compatible?"

I'm struggling with both.
        Struggle, too, is a good thing.
It means I'm not okay with things the way they are.
It means I have not grown complacent.
It means I'm fighting.
          Struggle is a good thing.
          Conflict is a good thing.

I am HOPEFULLY conflicted.

not the hopelessly conflicted state many find themselves in.

In my struggle, I hope things can change.

And I struggle to really want them to change. 

I'm that little girl who doesn't believe she is beautiful...or loveable...or likeable, but my heart would be broken if someone told me the same about them. I know these things are true about me but I do not believe them--I know it but I do not feel it or see it.

But I have hope that someday I will.