She wraps her arms tight about herself. Her friends would tell her that since she could do that then she must be anorexic. She must have a food disorder of some kind.
And don’t you know that men like curves?
She wraps her arms around herself and the voices she thought she was ignoring come crashing in faster, harder, sharper.
There are no excuses for a skinny girl.
If you are skinny, you are anorexic.
If you are skinny, you should gain weight.
If you are skinny, you immediately offend.
If you are skinny, you should know that men like curves and whatever you’ve got going on there is not enough.
She wraps her arms around herself, and her tears fall unbidden. She knows this shame isn’t real. How could it be? She knows that she was fashioned, made, designed by her Creator.
sometimes….the words still hurt. She still gave them power.
She wraps her arms around herself and the voices drain. Swirling, spiraling, emptying from her….yet filling the void. She walks through the streets and her head is down. Read more
It is the primary identification. You are the lonely woman. It is the foremost cry. You are the lonely woman. It is the pent-up scream. You are the lonely woman.
This is the darkest place, you think. It has to be the worst. How can you possibly move from here? What can heal these wounds? These wounds that re-open every day.
And no one suffers in the way you do. You know that there is suffering. And you know that others do too. But you can only feel what is yours. It is real. It is suffering. It is the worst kind of suffering.
You are the lonely woman. And you keep it all inside, because no one could possibly love you, need you, want you, know you. No words could possibly fill up this hollow space. The hollow space you’ve become.
Nothing. Forever nothing.
You are the lonely woman.
Your cracked hands clench to fists, the wounds widening as the fingers tighten. This is suffering. This is the worst kind of suffering. It is small suffering. It is invisible suffering. Read more
Am I the only one who feels it? Because I am not a Mom, sometimes I feel as though perhaps I’m not much of a woman, maybe I’m not as intelligent, not as equipped for life, not as sacrificial, not capable of real love, not as tired, not as burdened.
I can hear the patronizing articles, and I cringe when I see the memes that start with My Friends without Kids Say….you can fill in the blank. You know what those comics look like. I see post after post of women claiming their awesomeness as stay-at-home Moms or working Moms. I see the fights between both groups and I’m disheartened.
I keep my lips tightly closed, because I don’t want to say something offensive or hurtful. I don’t want to say anything at all, because I feel like there is a shroud that envelops so many women of this generation.
And this could be my interpretation, but it seems like so many voices of social media yell, “You don’t know anything, you don’t have kids! You don’t have a hard life at all, because you don’t have kids! You don’t sacrifice ever, because you don’t have kids! You don’t know exhaustion, because you don’t have kids!” Read more
It’s a really good question. I used to be bothered by it. I used to think, “We get it! You had a beautiful wedding! Post something else now.” I’ve always struggled with having grace for others. I think a lot of people do.
But then, I became a bride, and then I wasn’t a bride anymore.
And I totally understood.
1. She finally sees the fruit of all her labor.
The big picture doesn’t come into full focus, until the wedding day. And the bride doesn’t really experience everything because she’s in this massive white dress that may or may not be high maintenance to wear, a lot of attention is on her, and by this point she’s just trying to get married to her husband, and it’s just so big to take in.
But then all her wedding photos finally come in and she can experience the wedding. Everyone does so differently, but posting favorite wedding photos is an easy way to experience what you’ve spent months preparing for. Read more