I am super-addicted to this blogging thing.
It's sad really. I think I'm going on my fourth post today.
But ya know what, dammit, it makes me happy. So I'm just gon' keep on posting.
I just want to to talk for a moment about fear. And then I'll go. I promise.
Abe came home yesterday after spending some time with his mom (who's in town on her first trip west of the Mississippi in almost thirty years) shaking his head in disgust. Not because she's not a darling. She is. (More on my weird fluctuating feelings about my m-i-l later.) But because she can't, as Abe put it, seem to be able to take care of herself. Now don't get me wrong. This is a very capable woman. She's held together a marriage for thirty years, raised (and homeschooled) no less than eleven children, maintained an extremely high level of activity in church since she became a Mormon at age 12, managed a house, raised an annual garden, struggled through life on a very small income. But, reported Abe, she can't work up the courage to call the airport to ask about a lost bag, or call a pizza place and order some food, or talk to someone about renting a car, or ask a WalMart employee where to find something.
This is very sad.
And what frightens me is that I see myself leaning in that direction at times. I'm pretty sure I'm capable of doing all of the above-mentioned simple things, but there are other fears that I harbor and occasionally give in to. Some of these are, of course, reasonable: not wanting to walk down a dark alley in a big city in the middle of the night is probably a reasonable fear to heed. Others are not so reasonable. And it's those things I need to work on, so that I'm not limited and frozen by fears and unable to live the life that I would want to live were I not so damnably afraid.
So my scary thing for tomorrow is this: I have to go to a visiting teaching interview with the very girl in the Relief Society Presidency who presides over the calling I've been neglecting miserably for some months now. I haven't been visiting teaching for two months either. I am ashamed to confront these truths and particularly afraid of admitting them to someone else. I have a deep aversion to revealing weakness to others (to Abe, yes, to my immediate family members--excepting my parents, who worry too much--yes, to anyone else...no way jose). But ya know what? I'm not perfect. And that's OK. That doesn't make me a Bad Person. It makes me human. And besides, the girl I'm supposed to talk to is very nice. And even if she weren't nice, even if she were the bitchiest wench in the whole ward, it would still be OK. Even if she thinks I'm the Great Whore of Babylon because I am flaky and neglectful, that's OK.
OK?
OK.
OK!
But ya know what, dammit, it makes me happy. So I'm just gon' keep on posting.
I just want to to talk for a moment about fear. And then I'll go. I promise.
Abe came home yesterday after spending some time with his mom (who's in town on her first trip west of the Mississippi in almost thirty years) shaking his head in disgust. Not because she's not a darling. She is. (More on my weird fluctuating feelings about my m-i-l later.) But because she can't, as Abe put it, seem to be able to take care of herself. Now don't get me wrong. This is a very capable woman. She's held together a marriage for thirty years, raised (and homeschooled) no less than eleven children, maintained an extremely high level of activity in church since she became a Mormon at age 12, managed a house, raised an annual garden, struggled through life on a very small income. But, reported Abe, she can't work up the courage to call the airport to ask about a lost bag, or call a pizza place and order some food, or talk to someone about renting a car, or ask a WalMart employee where to find something.
This is very sad.
And what frightens me is that I see myself leaning in that direction at times. I'm pretty sure I'm capable of doing all of the above-mentioned simple things, but there are other fears that I harbor and occasionally give in to. Some of these are, of course, reasonable: not wanting to walk down a dark alley in a big city in the middle of the night is probably a reasonable fear to heed. Others are not so reasonable. And it's those things I need to work on, so that I'm not limited and frozen by fears and unable to live the life that I would want to live were I not so damnably afraid.
So my scary thing for tomorrow is this: I have to go to a visiting teaching interview with the very girl in the Relief Society Presidency who presides over the calling I've been neglecting miserably for some months now. I haven't been visiting teaching for two months either. I am ashamed to confront these truths and particularly afraid of admitting them to someone else. I have a deep aversion to revealing weakness to others (to Abe, yes, to my immediate family members--excepting my parents, who worry too much--yes, to anyone else...no way jose). But ya know what? I'm not perfect. And that's OK. That doesn't make me a Bad Person. It makes me human. And besides, the girl I'm supposed to talk to is very nice. And even if she weren't nice, even if she were the bitchiest wench in the whole ward, it would still be OK. Even if she thinks I'm the Great Whore of Babylon because I am flaky and neglectful, that's OK.
OK?
OK.
OK!
posted by Rachel @ 7:40 PM
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