The unbearable burden of change: Am I lovable.
Deep down do you believe you are lovable?
No not there- deeper. Deep down underneath all of your ego, underneath any accomplishments, underneath your able-ness, underneath your skin are you lovable?
Sure people say they love me, but what if they really knew me?
Really really knew me. Would they still?
I don't know what this deep fissure is in me. I have an instinct that this question of our lovability is in almost everyone. Deep in us is this abiding fear that we are not enough. It is a fear that haunts us as individuals and drives us as a community. It is what we guard ourselves up against, not wanting anyone to see inside THAT DEEP.
And when you look that deeply into your wound. There is fear.
Fear of being known.
Or fear of the answer being- Yes. You are not lovable.
This year, and season of life, has caused me to sit on this fear. Where once I had a cushion of a career, a cushion of an identity a cushion of friendship, a cushion of so many things: the stripping down of this year has forced me to ask, "Am I, at the heart of it all...lovable?"
A lot of days the answer is a (seemingly)obvious no.
Some days is a more vague, "My faith compels me to say yes."
Or "Sean compels me to say yes"
Or, I believe that other people are all loveable---so I must be.
---
Life is affording me a tremendous opportunity to not be terribly concerned with economics or logistics, or safety...This is the epitome of privilege, and what do I uncover underneath all of this is the foundational life question.
The one that we are all covering up, bandaging or pouring foundation into only to have the crack heave itself open again. What is this fissure?
Am I loved.
Am I beloved.
Can I be loved.
Do I deserve the love I have.
---
When I was looking at graduate schools I went on a trip to Massachusetts to see a friend and discern my next geography. I spent a lot of time in the car with my dear friend. One evening, in the cover of darkness and the passanger seat I broke open my self hatred of being fat. I talked about the shame I felt; I talked about the bullying, the judgment, the externally and internally inflicted cruelty. I talked about my relationship with food, and I wept.
Wept.
Wept.
Wept.
During all this time my dear friend said little. In the middle of my sobs she said something so profound I will never forget it. "Rachel, dear, I love you right now, as you are."
This experience, began a trail of acceptance and welcome of my body that, at the time, I could not have imagined. I can now stand in front of people and talk about being fat the way I can talk about being married. It is just part of my experience of a living person.
But then, at that time, it was so vulnerable. It was a critical look into the crack of fear. Into the fissure that asks, "Am I lovable."
---
Last night, I was weeping before Sean.
Telling him about my shame, my embarassment to be so useless, so boring, so unproductive, and he, in utter earnestness looked at me and said, "I love you. Right now."
I said:
"This is why marriage is a sacrament"
---
I have lived enough to trust that what is happening in this (awful) season of life is a step into a
trail of understanding and wisdom that I cannot yet know.
---
Sure people say they love me, but what if they really knew me?
Really really knew me. Would they still?
I don't know what this deep fissure is in me. I have an instinct that this question of our lovability is in almost everyone. Deep in us is this abiding fear that we are not enough. It is a fear that haunts us as individuals and drives us as a community. It is what we guard ourselves up against, not wanting anyone to see inside THAT DEEP.
And when you look that deeply into your wound. There is fear.
Fear of being known.
Or fear of the answer being- Yes. You are not lovable.
This year, and season of life, has caused me to sit on this fear. Where once I had a cushion of a career, a cushion of an identity a cushion of friendship, a cushion of so many things: the stripping down of this year has forced me to ask, "Am I, at the heart of it all...lovable?"
A lot of days the answer is a (seemingly)obvious no.
Some days is a more vague, "My faith compels me to say yes."
Or "Sean compels me to say yes"
Or, I believe that other people are all loveable---so I must be.
---
Life is affording me a tremendous opportunity to not be terribly concerned with economics or logistics, or safety...This is the epitome of privilege, and what do I uncover underneath all of this is the foundational life question.
The one that we are all covering up, bandaging or pouring foundation into only to have the crack heave itself open again. What is this fissure?
Am I loved.
Am I beloved.
Can I be loved.
Do I deserve the love I have.
---
When I was looking at graduate schools I went on a trip to Massachusetts to see a friend and discern my next geography. I spent a lot of time in the car with my dear friend. One evening, in the cover of darkness and the passanger seat I broke open my self hatred of being fat. I talked about the shame I felt; I talked about the bullying, the judgment, the externally and internally inflicted cruelty. I talked about my relationship with food, and I wept.
Wept.
Wept.
Wept.
During all this time my dear friend said little. In the middle of my sobs she said something so profound I will never forget it. "Rachel, dear, I love you right now, as you are."
This experience, began a trail of acceptance and welcome of my body that, at the time, I could not have imagined. I can now stand in front of people and talk about being fat the way I can talk about being married. It is just part of my experience of a living person.
But then, at that time, it was so vulnerable. It was a critical look into the crack of fear. Into the fissure that asks, "Am I lovable."
---
Last night, I was weeping before Sean.
Telling him about my shame, my embarassment to be so useless, so boring, so unproductive, and he, in utter earnestness looked at me and said, "I love you. Right now."
I said:
"This is why marriage is a sacrament"
---
I have lived enough to trust that what is happening in this (awful) season of life is a step into a
trail of understanding and wisdom that I cannot yet know.
---
We love you, Rachel and are looking forward to seeing you and the rest of the Doll-O' Mohaney's at the DFR. Proud of you also for posting so honestly.
ReplyDeleteThis is rich and hard and heavy and good and it encompasses so much of life. Living into these times of unknowing is an intense challenge and it is demanding that you trust in deeply vulnerable ways. Your last line is powerful and true.
ReplyDeleteAnd you are loved, full stop.
-K