personal reflection

October 31, 2010 – The Proverbs 31 Woman

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Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; – Proverbs 31:30a

She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. – Proverbs 31:27

She is clothed in strength and dignity; – Proverbs 31:25a

 

When I was in high school, our teacher would take us through Proverbs for devotion time every few months. Since there were 31 chapters, it was perfect to look at one chapter each day. I really enjoyed it because no one would pull life lessons and applicable ideas from the Bible like Mrs. Profitt could. It became true and real and a source of inspiration to me for the first time, really, in her class.

In any case, this chapter is still one of the blueprints that I wish to follow for being a good woman and wife. These verses really struck me today but especially the first one I listed.

I know that I have grown, at best, moderately attractive over the past few years. A late bloomer, some would say. Not trying to be modest, just honest here. I do not want to forget, however, that outer beauty does not last forever, nor will always seem charming, witty, or cute to those I meet and speak to. I will not deny, though, that it feels good and gratifying to be thought of as beautiful, attractive, or desirable by Ben and others. It’s something that I never really felt growing up and to feel it now is, still, a bit surreal. But, more important than that, I need to be a woman who lives what she says she believes, works hard, loves her spouse (and children whenever they come along), treats others with respect and love, and cultivates true relationships with people.

I do think, however, that I have grown lonely-lazy lately. I miss the facet of college that involved having quite a few friends fairly close at hand. I do not have many close friends nearby and I do get lonely at times. Often, I react to loneliness by withdrawing into myself and letting my introverted side have sway. I know that this is, often, not the right response and I need to work on it. I need to cultivate true friendships and relationships with others but sometimes the work and risk it requires scares me. I’ve been burned by stretching out my hand once already this year, and I’m a little gun-shy now, I think. I am trying to forgive and move on, though it’s taking time. I know how important friendships are, true friendships without the ceiling of mere hobbies and similar interests. Friendships and relationships where you learn about each other and are interested and invested in each other’s lives. I have several friends like that and am developing a few more, I hope. Such relationships are precious to me, and so I need to work on them.

I want to be a Proverbs 31 woman. I want to be “clothed in strength and dignity”. I want to do what’s best for my family, for my husband, for our lives together. I want to be strong for the days ahead, take care of our home, work together to care for our lives, and work hard to make it what we want. I want to always have a dignity that makes Ben (and whomever I am with) proud to be with me, to be seen with me. To carry myself like the woman I want to be. As I tell my students, if you want to be treated like an adult, you have to act like it. I need to act like the woman I want to be, I know that.

There is still so much for me to become. I cannot afford to rest on my laurels now and sometimes I just need that reminder. I am not a finished product yet; there are parts of me that still need refinishing as other parts continue to develop. I would ask you to be patient with, but please don’t give up on me yet. I may be 27 but I am still growing up.

 

October 3, 2010 – Feels like Christmas Morning

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It feels like Christmas morning. I woke up to a cool silence in the house, Ben breathing softly next to me. The sunlight looked cloudy beyond the blinds and there was a still silence to the air and to the house that reminded me of waking up on Christmas morning, when – even at 27 years old – there’s an air of expectation, of excitement, of wonder in some respects.

When I woke, it was a moment of absolute peace. Peace of mind, peace of heart, contentment in everything.  I found myself smiling and being extremely thankful, whispering a little silent prayer of thanks to God for all that He has blessed me with, so much more beyond what I deserve. I have a husband who loves me dearly and is willing to stand with and fight for me.  I have a home of my own; it’s small but perfect for us. I have a job that, while not always the most ideal, does afford some really good moments at times and I’m finding some options for the future. I have friends who are kind, compassionate, fun, encouraging, and yet willing to remind me of the important things when I need it. Yes, extremely blessed beyond what I deserve.

So that ‘Christmas Day’ feeling is not just anticipation, wonder, and excitement. From now on, I shall try my best to remember this feeling of gratitude and thankfulness. I need to never forget it, and to never forget to express it to those I love.

 

September 9, 2010 – Hatred of Once-Love

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Copied from a quick scribble before school this morning

Last night, I was woken from a weary just-fallen-asleep by the cat knocking the lint roller from the bathroom counters and I found myself in the saddest of moods. A realization had settled upon once again and it set me to weeping into my pillow.

I am becoming a robot.

Once upon a time, I swore to never teach just to the test, but it is now what is required of me. My students are tied to the textbook in order to pass the Benchmark assessments required by RtI. I find myself so despondent and beaten down over this that I have no desire, no energy to try to make it “fun and exciting” beyond the occasional Jeopardy review game. And that hurts. A lot!

All I could think of as I cried was Juliet’s wail, “Proud can I never be of what I hate!” How can  I be proud to be a teacher when I hate what and how I have to teach? The more I think about it, the sicker I become at the realization that, for the most part, I hate teaching now. I am good, very good, at what I do. But, in truth, it’s not my first love. The literature is the thing for me. If I could simply discuss books all day long, I would be – as Anne Boleyn proclaimed – the most happy. I could probably figure out a way to achieve goals through simple book discussion and socractic seminar, as others have surely done before me, but the powers that be would never heard of me ditching their textbook and standards. It’s like I can no longer see the forest for the trees and so I think the time is coming for me to cut my way out of the jungle. I can tell I’m getting upset because my handwriting is becoming illegible so I’ll stop here.

Bombardment – 8/22/2010

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Author’s note: First off, I do not want anyone to think that this is directed at them or that I’m calling anyone out or trying to convert anyone. I’m not. I was sitting in church today and this poured out into my notebook. I’m posting it here because I want to be honest with my emotions with my friends and not start bottling them up and hiding them away like I used to. I’m not fishing for compliments either.

Also, understand that some of these things I may and others I may not be up to talking about. Not to be mean, just a forewarning. I love you all and I appreciate the time you take to read my ramblings and the prayers and good thoughts you have for me.

Mel

= = = = =

I’m sitting here in church and I feel small and alone, as though I do not deserve to be here. That I have been stupid and faithless and God had turned from me because of it. Things have been hard, yes, but I know that we are still so much better off than many others. I just feel like I have been very silly lately, handling things wrongly and worrying and fussing and not thinking.

I miss my friends, their love, their encouragement, their honesty, their hugs, prayers, and even their tears (when they shed them with me). I sang a song in church this morning and it reminded me sharply of being SCF (Student Christian Fellowship) in college, surrounded by friends who love me and love God. Things were not totally easy by any stretch of the imagination for all of us but I remember what those relationships felt like, what that love between friends was like, what that closeness was like. I miss it – and them – terribly. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Ben and love having him near, as well as those friends that I have made and am still making here. But I still get lonely. I feel alone. My latest attempt at making new close friends crashed and burned badly, and I really feel that I have made things very difficult for both Ben and I because of it.  And now the depression and pessimism with teaching and not knowing why…also hard and bringing me down mentally and emotionally. What have I done? Or what am I not seeing?

I burst into tears in front of a fellow teacher this week and also did so here in church because I have no idea of where to go, what to do, or what to think. I don’t want to think about how wonderful Heaven might be some day. I want to know how to deal with and get through the next week. With students and house cleaning and grading and bills and everything else. I’ve failed at my quiet times and re-centering myself at the end of the day, too, which should have been relatively simple.

I know. I’m a wreck. I am all over the place. I can’t settle. I can’t fully relax. I just…feel frayed and knotted and I don’t know how to get untangled. I know don’t what to pray for, though I try to give thanks that things are still – in the grand scheme – quite good for us. I am just sort of…here. I am lonely, discouraged, and I want to be better. But how?

July 30, 2010 – Ode to a Summer

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Summer is almost over; it’s hard to believe that it has gone by so quickly. Not to say that I have not enjoyed myself thoroughly. It has been an active and fun summer and I have enjoyed it thoroughly. I am just sorry to see it end and to know that friends that I have seen, made and enjoy very much are far away (or at least far enough that I cannot run out on a school night). I will be back to the grind soon, my mind filled with lessons, plans, backup plans, standards, projects, tests, and ways to make all these things interesting and as fun as I can for my students.

I’ve gamed, I’ve bellydanced, I’ve read, I’ve written, I’ve seen movies, I’ve hung out, laughed, played, etc. Now, that’s not to say that there haven’t been low points; every time has them and there have been a few this summer. I’ve missed my friends whom I wish were nearer, had some rough times that I wish they were there to help with. I’ve curled in bed and cried and Ben has soothed and comforted me. I have appreciated him immensely.

I’ve enjoyed slow mornings in quiet, letting my mind roll and roam and pour out at my fingers. It calmed and centered me and gave me peace to start the day. I am the type that needs time to myself in order to re-focus and function, no matter how I enjoy the company of others. That time served me quite well and I am thankful for it. I shall have to continue making some quiet time to myself when the school year begins, it’ll be of immense help.

It has been quite a good summer, all things considered. Thank you to all who made me so.

July 26, 2010 – Refreshing Day

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Today has been, quite possibly, the most gorgeous day of the summer. The high today was only 80 degrees with a bright blue sky, clouds smattered everywhere, bright sunshine. It’s that sort of day that just infuses your with life and mellows you out at the same time. Ben and I had a late brunch with Ben’s parents, ran to the little local donut/coffee shop, Ben took some pictures of me by the courthouse and war memorial in Winchester, and we thoroughly enjoyed the drive to and from home. Just a gorgeous day!

I love days like this, when I can throw open the windows, turn on the fan, let the air and sunshine into my home, let that light and comfort flow through my house like it flows through my system. It’s quite uplifting and encouraging after a rough night. I think I might go lie out in our swing in the backyard in a while.

I must say that today has done me a world of good.

Morning Body – July 22, 2010

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Some people talk of morning breath, bed head, morning hair, even…yeah, that. I like to think of myself having “morning body”. I think my body looks its best in the morning, right after I wake up, before the day and its cares have had a chance to stress and ravage it. My eyes don’t look tired or my mouth pinched in thought, the curve in my waist is gentle, feeding into the slope of my back, the “S” of my form from shoulder to thigh. I spent a good ten minutes this morning just looking at myself in the mirror, wondering over my lifetime and the changes my body has gone through.

When I was a child, I was a little stick, skin-and-bones. People used to comment and, yes, tease me about how skinny and small I was. When I grew into a teenager and my body began filling out, I remember not a great deal aside from that it was rather painful. I had a horrible time with my skin as well, though I got over it, even though it continued for a long while.

When I entered college at 17, I still felt very much like a child. I had not dated, the only “date” I had been on was a Valentine’s Day banquet with someone I had known since kindergarten and did not think of any deeper than a friend. No one had ever told me, outside of my family and perhaps a girlfriend or two, that I was lovely. I felt little, young.  Of course, I gained weight my freshman year, which my mother failed to inform me of, since it is sometimes hard to judge for one’s self. It wasn’t until I saw the pictures of my summer that I realized, which, honestly, made me feel badly. Over the years, my weight fluctuated, not hugely but a bit.

In 2004-2005, during my first year of graduate school, the stress of the move and my new course of study stressed me to the point that I lost weight down to 97 lbs. I hadn’t been that skinny since….I don’t know when. But I wasn’t happy with it because I knew that something must be wrong. I started gaining weight again after I saw my doctor and got things figured out.

In 2007, I began belly dancing in order to get myself in shape and be active in some way that didn’t involve conventional exercise. Today, I have no idea how much I weigh and that is fine with me. I’ve worked hard on my conditioning and dance drills, yoga, and exercise this year (though I can always do more). As a result, I quite like the way my body looks. I like it! 🙂

I remember admiring my mother in her A-line dresses and running my little hands over the graceful curve of her waist from her ribcage down to her hips. Such a gorgeous hourglass figure. I remember saying to her, “I want to look like this.” And now I do. Perhaps that is part of why I like the way I look now. It reminds me of my mother at the height of her beauty. I still very much find my mother beautiful with her quirky smile and close-lipped laugh, her abundant dark hair, some of it a beautiful silvery grey now. I remember when she used to let it down and let me play with it; I’d hold its weight in my hands and marvel at it. I love my mother and always wanted to look like her.

I like my body the most in the morning, I like to be able to look at myself and admit that I do in fact like the way I look. It has been a long, long time in coming for me to say that, as most of you know. It’s a nice feeling, though.

Now that I’ve indulged in a little vanity, I shall go and kiss my husband happy anniversary and thank him for the lovely flowers.

5 Years – July 18, 2010

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I just thought of something. I joined the Camarilla Club 5 years this month. 5 years…I know that may not seem like a great deal of time to some but I haven’t been a part of something for so long since band and choir in school.

5 years in the Cam. And it’s been quite a ride thus far. I remember my first character in the Cam – a delicate little Victorian viper of a Mekhet, as crazy as the day is long and obsessed with dolls. Dear little Dovasary. I loved her. I loved dressing for her. I loved writing for her. I loved researching for her. I loved playing her. Not to say that she wasn’t difficult at times (oh, she was!) but her difficulties made her even more fun. I enjoyed the roundabouts of the Invictus, the titles, the guilds, the lieges. I also got my first taste of being a harpy and fell in love with it. I performed all the offices of a high-ranking Victorian woman and consort to a vampiric Prince – remembering what her lord and master had forgotten, maintaining their household and ghouls, managing missives and announcements, forging alliances, recording boons, and drawing up treaties. Even after Villain was killed, Dovasary kept on. She made mistakes, allowing a new one to master her and make her a prisoner in her own home lest she betray her family again. She loved so many – the ghouls that became as her children (even the one she hated), the one who became her lover-comfort, the man who had served her unquestioningly and unrequitedly for decades – yet she understood only one person and longed for him.

When we finally retired the characters, I decided that it was time for Dove’s cracked mind to join Villain and she shattered into a dream. It was a beautiful, heart-wrenching thing, one of my favorite pieces to write. I’ll show you if you like.

In my 5 years, I have taken time off, everyone needs time to detox. A few months to step back, re-evaluate, and decide what I want to do. We came back and Esther Julian (now Montesori) – decadent Daeva that she is – sprang from my mind. The thing that makes Esther near and dear to me is that she is me. Esther is that part of me that terrified me as a young woman because I didn’t know how to deal with her. She was the part of me that I was afraid I couldn’t control and would explode, destroying everything. For the longest, longest time, I feared that dark part of myself more than anything. But I’m not afraid of her anymore. She has her place and has become rather fun. She began as a shallow, throw-away character but has evolved and grown into something I could have never imagined. She has her own weaknesses and fears, things that I never thought that side of me could have, and I love discovering more and more as I play the character. Now, there are times when I have to ‘sit her down’ and have a chat if she’s getting uppity, but, for the most part, I haven’t had this much fun with a character since Dovasary and it took several tries before I found Esther.

All in all, I love being in the Camarilla. In the past few years, I have become part of the domain support staff, helping Ben in his position as the Middlewhere Domain Coordinator. I also write the bimonthly newsletter for the domain, take care of the sites, and make sure that paperwork is in order as best I can. There are times when things are rough and parts that I don’t like but I work through them, step back and take a breather, rant and rave to my hubby, or whatever is required to help me work through it. I also have some wonderful friends and fellow members who help me through when I need it.

This past weekend, I attended my first regional event: GLaRE 2010. I have only ever attended local Games of the Month and one ICC in 2008. But I never attended those events with the express, conscious purpose and goal of not only reconnecting with old friends but also of meeting and rp’ing with new people, making new connections both in-character and out-of-character.

I like to make friends. It’s fun to meet new people, laugh with them, get to know them. I find that I’m very enthusiastic about new friends. I now have to admit that I turn in a giggly, smiling bundle of cute when I make new friends. Ben is amused by me, I know, but it’s fun. He’s pretty good at making friends, too. His way involves initial conversations and if he hits on something that’s interesting to both parties, off he goes and the conversation never ends. I like talking and laughing with folks and I guess I don’t mind being a bundle of cute. Eventually, folks find my deeper sides and often seem pleasantly surprised. At least I hope they are. But I have made some of my best friends recently through gaming and the Camarilla, and all I can do is thank you.

Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for interacting with me. Thank you for the compliments. Thank you for helping me to found and build up a shaky self-esteem over the years. Thank you for listening when I need an ear. Thank you for kicking my butt when I need it. Thank you for the inspiration. Thank you for the guidance. Thank you for answering my myriad of questions.

Thank you, most of all, for getting to know me.

My Skin – July 7, 2010

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I love my skin. There are so many different shades and tones in it, but there’s also something unique about it that I cannot quiet explain. I love the color of it and how I’m pretty much a perfect in-between of my parents. I love the texture of it most days. During the winter, of course, it’s the bane of my existence, but that’s just because it needs a little extra care.

I am fascinated by my skin and how it changes colors. How light it gets during the winter when the sun hides for weeks and I’m all covered up against the cold. How my face and neck darken as I turn upwards to greet the spring sunshine. I should probably put on my swimsuit and lie out for a bit on these bright sunny days, try to even up my color a bit. Tanning costs but sunshine and fresh air are free.

Naturally, there are things that I do not like about my skin but they are things that can barely be fixed, if at all, because they are genetic. For the most part, though, I love my skin. It’s taken me 20+ years to get to this point. I remember distinctly telling a friend in middle school that I wished I were white with blonde hair and blue eyes because “that’s what boys like”. I bought into the mass-marketed, Barbie-esque bias just like everyone else. I truly thought I wasn’t good enough. If I had participated in the Clark Doll Experiment, I would definitely have chosen the light-skinned doll as the better doll. I never had dark-skinned Barbies or dolls; I don’t remember owning a single one. They were always so plain; you rarely ever saw them in the specialty versions like Birthday Barbie or Princess Barbie. They were always just the plain old cookie-cutter Barbie.

I hated my skin in middle school and junior high. Acne, growing pains, stretch marks. Meh! Hated it all. Hated myself, what’s more. Had to be perfect, had to be good, had to be what everyone expected. If not, my life would crumble down around my ears and I would be alone. But that’s an old vent. I remember feeling rather mousy when I went to college, since I was a year younger than most freshmen, the frat boys that I and some other froshes ended up doing community work with called me a little pup, which helped me decide to turn the hose on them. I remember beginning to feel comfortable with myself towards the end of college but never really feeling pretty or thinking that I could be pleasant to look at. I was partially comfortable with myself, yes, but a huge part of me still wanted to tear my skin away and start all over.

Ten years later (wow!), through a lot of soul-searching, self-examination, some therapy, and ripping down to what is just me and no one else, along with the love of family, spouse, and dear friends, I have begun to like myself and how I look. I’m not perfect, never will be, but I can be happy with myself. I love being in my skin. I know that I’m never going to be a supermodel or pin-up girl but that’s OK. I think I do pretty well right now.

The Clark Doll Experiment: http://abagond.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/the-clark-doll-experiment/

Little Thoughts – June 27, 2010

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Few things make me smile more than my 3-year-old nephew. I feel an affection and love for him unlike any I’ve ever felt for a child before. When he runs up and hugs me, squealing, “Mel!”, it makes my heart warm. I remember putting him to bed once when he was very little. I loved the weight of him in my lap and my arms, the softness of his downy head against my cheek as I held his bottle and hummed to him the lullabies that I intend for my children some day. His grandparents said that he slept all through the night that night.

I love listening to Nathan talk, seeing him smile and run and laugh and squeal. I am terrified of being a parent someday, few things scare me more, but I still want it. I want to hold our own little one in my arms, feel the weight of their life there. I want to watch my child sit in their father’s lap, begging for stories and saying their prayers. I want to read them their favorite storybooks until they have them memorized. I want to help them with their homework. I want to counsel them through tough times. I want to watch my children with their grandparents, both sets. I want to whisper to them about nightlights. I want my children to see how much their parents love each other and that we like each other as well as love each other. I know there will be times that are hard, frightening, tearful, saddening. But I know that God will carry and help us through it, just as he carried and helped us and our parents.

I want to tell my children that I love them. I want to teach them to sing and pray, to laugh and be merry. I want to play and pretend with my children, encourage their imaginations and their creativity. I want to teach my children to ask questions, to be advocates for their own knowledge. I want to encourage them and teach them to encourage others, help others. I want my children to see our faith and learn from our lives and our experiences in it.

Yes, having children frightens the life out of me but I still want it. I do.