Like a Rock, or at Least a Very Small Pebble in Your Shoe

Today I received some very bad news. A friend of mine passed away. She was a year older than me, about four inches taller, and in my opinion was a lot more graceful. She had cancer, and she battled with it for what seemed like a very short time and then she was gone.

What bothers me most about all the feelings I have associated with this news is that she and I were not very close. Our friendship was comprised of two lunch dates, an outing for the school we both attended, Skype calls or FaceBook chats a couple of times a year , and mutually liking one another's status and photos on FaceBook. I don't have a trunk full of memories of the two of us smiling and laughing, or sharing intimate details. I just have a long distance casual friendship, in which case neither of probably thought about the other unless we were on a FaceBook feed.

The timing of this news hit me at a bad time. Laying in bed this morning trying to figure out how I'm going to pay all of my bills and still put on that Halloween Party, I accidentally hit the Facebook app on my phone and there was the news. It felt like someone sucker punched me in the gut laying in my bed. My bed which is supposed to be the safest of places, especially to try and escape emotions.

I don't think I've been able to catch my breath from that emotional punch all day.

My mind is constantly racing right now. There are so many questions I was already asking God all of them started with the word 'Why'. This news just made them end with an angry exclamation point.

I share a trait with my Grandmother (I actually share several, but right now I'm just focusing on one), a trait a lot of women have, but not usually women in our family. Resting Bitch Face. (Sorry for the language sensitive readers) I can't tell you how many times in line at the grocery store have I been off in a pleasant day dream about walking out to my car to see Tom Hiddleston resting on the hood and offering to carry all my bags up the three flights of stairs to my apartment and then pay my bills when the person in line before will sheepishly cut in. "Sorry you have to wait, I don't really have that many things. I know it looks like a lot, and you seem to be in a hurry." As if the disdain on my face is directed at them. Awakening from my day dreams I realize I must have been scowling in their direction. Honestly I don't mean to, It's just my face.

This face has been my armor for a very long time. In talking with my Grandmother, who in many ways has been a rock to our family, I realize it has for her too. While I'm not sure my grandmother would agree with this assessment I realize I'm very much like the Hulk. I'm safe as long as I stay (or look) angry.

Today brought to head a lot of feelings I have had wrapped up inside of me. I'm still coming terms with a lot of them. This isn't a blog of self discovery, or complaining, it's just a blog to try and get something out of my head. The feeling that vulnerability is a weakness to me in my sadness, and a lot of times even in my happiness. Right now I feel like the only thing keeping me going is that I'm so angry, angry at God for posing all these questions that don't have answers. (Why aren't you providing for me? Why won't you heal people? Why do I have to live in anxiety?) Angry at people for letting me down, or leaving me behind. Angry at myself for not doing more.

 The thought crossed my mind today when I was asked if I was okay "You can't be nice to me. If you're nice to me I can't be angry, and if I'm angry I can't keep all of these emotions from spilling out."

I hate when my emotions spill out.

That messy horrible crying girl that comes along with emotions just isn't who I want to be. I want to be strong, and I want to be a rock. But looking strong and feeling strong aren't the same things.

I can't live my life being angry, if I was going to self Identify with a super hero I wouldn't want to be the Hulk. (I could go into who I'd rather be, but as I am constantly saying in these blogs; That's another blog for another time)

Right now I'm having to learn to unclench my fist, I'm saying this now, officially, in writing so legal. I don't want to be angry any more. (why did I write this at work because now I'm about to cry)
I want to be really strong, I want to have people who lift me up, I want to be happy again. Not fake happy which dissolves when I'm alone, but really happy. I'm not sure how to get there, but I want to try.

This Girl Is On Fire - Someone put some water on her please.

For those of you who don't know. I live alone. No roommate, no boyfriend, no siblings; utterly alone. Well, apart from one very bossy cat, but he doesn't count since he pays no bills. (Why isn't he internet famous yet? I need him to start supporting me!) I live alone, not because I couldn't find any one on this side of town to be my roommate, but, because I want to live alone.

When I decided to move out I told my family my plan. Get a cheap apartment and be a hermit. I was met with a lot of very well meaning oppositions. "Won't that be expensive?" "You'll be lonely" "Go ahead and look for a cheap two bedroom, you'll want a roommate, I promise you that." While it is expensive, it's exactly what I wanted. I'm an extremely independent woman and I want to be able to do things for myself.

I had to Upgrade to a bigger cart

So, let me set the stage for you; Saturday, September 19, 2015. Ikea in Atlanta Georgia.

This weekend was the first weekend in a long time that I had any extra cash. Here lately it's been a struggle just to keep myself and the afore mentioned cat fed. (Seriously why isn't he internet famous yet?) With the little bit of extra cash I have I decide that it's time for me to take care of a few things around the house that are bothering me. I needed curtains for the bedroom, a tv stand for the living room, new rug, some storage bits for the laundry room, and a lamp.

(Are you bored yet? This is a super long set up.)

As I'm walking through Ikea, weaving through couples and families I  begin to notice something. I'm the only one alone. Which doesn't bother me. What does bother me is the looks I begin to get. Especially as my cart fills up. I begin to get a look I've become very accustomed to living on my own. "That poor girl, she has no one to take care of her." It's a look I've come to despise.

As I mentioned before I want to live alone. What a lot of people don't know about me is that I also don't want any one to take care of me. I value my independence. The idea of having a spouse to wash the car, take care of the bank statements, hang the curtains, put together the pace board furniture doesn't appeal to me. In fact at this point in my life having a spouse all together doesn't sound great. (Well apart from a few reasons I won't mention because my parents are probably reading this.) (That's a joke Mum ;D ) (Ohmygod someone help me get out this whole I'm digging myself into.)(I know it's ironic that I'm asking for help in a blog about independence!)

The Ikea story is one in a long line of of these looks. I don't blame the people giving the looks, and I've stopped having a sense of righteous indignation about it. The speech about feminism and equality is no longer lingering on my lips daring someone to make a remark about needing a husband. In fact when people make those comments I laugh now. Low-Key sexism is funny to me because I'm secure in the fact that I don't need a man to take care of me.

I see a lot of blogs these days talking about a christian perspective on feminism. Having grown up in the church I'm ultimately excited to see that there is a shift in the thought process Christians have towards women. But this move is largely directed towards the purity culture movement. About holding men and women to the same standards of purity, and having equality between the sexes in marriage. God being the head of a house hold and all that. (I'll write another blog about this at a later date, specifically how Mum and Dad taught us this growing up. I should of wrote it on their anniversary but I totally didn't think of it until now. Worst daughter ever.)

What I don't see in this new "Jesus Was a Feminist" movement is an equality between married and unmarried women. The opinion of women seems to still be that they're not worth listening to until they've got a ring on their finger.

Cheers to modesty!

In Christian circles women are girls until they walk down the aisle. Good Christian Girls. GCG's are the type of creatures who live together as room mates building community. Community is a pseudo sorority atmosphere in which they watch chick-flicks, drink wine (but they don't get drunk), and talk about boys who they're not dating because they respect themselves to much. They post pictures of their bible studies on Instagram #girlsbiblestudy, they host a singles small group, which is made up almost entirely of the girls who live in their house. GCG's also CRAVE marriage.

I was a GCG for a long time. The only reason I'm not a GCG now is that I realized a few things.
A. I'm not a girl. I'm a grown ass woman.
B. My worth isn't defined by my chastity, my church attendance, or my living my life so no one can slander me.
C. What I say is equally important now as it will be when/if I ever get married.

If you live in a house with a bunch of other girls, or have every stopped seeing someone because you want to know if God is really calling you to be with this person please do not think I'm judging you. Because I'm not. What this blog is meant to do is draw attention to the way we're expected to act.
If you honestly feel like you shouldn't live in a co-ed house, or a multi-religious house, then do you boo. If you really feel like God told you to stop dating the guy because you were putting him (the guy) first, more power to you. I'm very sure that was a hard thing to do I respect that. But think long and hard about why you felt/feel that way about these things.

You shouldn't need to worry about how your small group leader or pastor feels about your relationships or your singleness. You're a strong christian woman.  Your opinions matter now!

This blog isn't a judgey thing, so please don't miss my meaning. I'm not saying you should look down on any one because of their circumstances or choices. What I am saying is that we as women shouldn't paint our selves into a Good Christian Girl box. We are all equal in the eyes of God. We all have something to say. Psalm 139: 17 - 18 says that his thoughts for us are innumerable. In fact read all of 139, it tells us that there is no place we can escape the presence of God, that he formed us and created us with all the tender care to make us exactly who we are today.

As women, we're not excluded from the promises of God to rule and reign as co-heirs with Christ. Galations 3:28 makes this exceedingly clear. There is no more male nor female; we are all one in Christ.

For me Saturday, September 19, 2015 carrying a 54lbs tv stand up three flights of stairs I remembered that my independence isn't my stubbornness to prove that I can do things on my own. My independence is my own choice, to need no one else but God as I go through life. I don't need to be defined by the box my church has created for me. (My church wouldn't put me in a box, but again, that's another blog for another day) I'm a strong woman. I'm a Godly woman. I am a co-heir with Christ.

I can also assemble a tv stand in less than 45 minutes.