So, I've realized recently that it may be kind of odd that I'm nearly 28 and still sleeping on a twin mattress. It's never bothered me before, as it's all I've known, and in fact I have preferred it so far in my life. Any bigger bed makes me feel lost, like I can't get comfortable unless with little effort I am able to reach out on either side of myself an touch the edge of the mattress. Why this is my preference I couldn't say, but so it is. Plus my mattress is super comfortable and somewhat of a point of pride-I bought it at a great price from an unhappy mattress dealer. Which is another story for another time, but it's not my fault that you mismarked it and then didn't want to lose the sale!
Back to the point at hand, so here I am, an adult women in her late (cringe) twenties sleeping on the same sized bed she slept on at 2. It occurred to me that this is almost symbolic. I've never needed any larger of a bed, because there is no Mr. Katie to occupy the other side. I wouldn't have pictured myself at 28 as single-no, in fact I was one of those girls who entered college really looking for that "Mrs." degree not even determined to finish should I meet Mr. Right along the way. That changed sometime within my freshman year when I realized there was much more to life. But still, I didn't imagine that ten years later I would still be sleeping on a twin bed. I'm not complaining; I enjoy my single life most (okay, at least half....or a quarter....) of the time. There is so much you can do single that you can't do while married, and I really do appreciate that fact. I do, however, want to be married someday in the not too distant future.
So, I got to thinking. Could it be like the "Field of Dreams" movie, "if you build it, they will come!"? If I buy a full, or queen mattress, does the likelihood that I'll find my soul mate increase? Does having that empty side of the bed, just waiting to be filled by a husband, draw that husband to me? I can see the online dating add now: "Single, 28-year-old woman, WITH A QUEEN SIZED BED...seeks single man between the ages of 28 and 35...". The problem with that is that a woman who does not intend to share a bed until marriage should probably not mention said bed in a dating advertisement lest she get off on the wrong foot. Hmm.
Anyway, this is what my mind has been mulling over the last day or so. It could be that I'm now approaching the age where I might start to consider lying about my age. I might just go ahead and buy that queen sized bed for good measure....and sleep on it horizontally just to prove you can thoroughly enjoy a big girl bed even when you're single!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Defining the Past
A friend of mine recently told me about coming out of a tough period in her life, how it affected her, how it defined her. She went on to talk about moving on from it, and when that difficult period became merely a part of her past, not who she was. This really got me thinking.
Does the past define us? Does my past dictate who I am, who I will become? I feel like I have for the most part led a fairly typical life, not easy per se, but not terribly hard either. I've had my fair share of bumps and bruises, mostly emotional, but I also have a loving and nurturing family who have sheltered and protected me from the worst life could throw at me. About three years ago, however, I entered a period in my life unlike any I had ever experienced. No amount of love or nurturing from my family could have protected me from this, and as much as their support means to me, in the darkest times, I felt alone.
I never knew what it would feel like to wish for death, to hate living even more than the thought of leaving life unfinished. I never would have ended my life-but I thought of my life ending. I don't think I have ever cried that much before, spent so much time obsessing about how my life could be better, wishing and wanting to run away. I have never been that weak, nor have I ever been that strong. Because through it all, I kept living.
Up until recently I blamed this difficult time on a single bad relationship. I threw darts at mental dart board with that person's face on it as I rolled the thoughts of all the hurt I experienced over and over in my mind. I replayed hurtful things that were said to me to keep me strong when I might cave and forgive this person, when I was tempted to renew the friendship. And I have caved. Oh, have I caved. Until now.
It is only recently that I feel like I have surfaced from the depths of that time. I can almost feel my head breaking the surface of the water, and with relief feel my lungs dragging in a fresh breath of desperately needed air. And now I can look at my recent past with a little more critical an eye. I can see the mistakes I made, and some truths I have learned. I can think about the good times with a smile, and think about the bad times without crying or letting them make me feel like I am less of a person. I have come to terms with the fact that others may not see why this all hit me so hard, how it affected me, and I'm okay with that. I've learned that I don't need others to value my experiences for those experiences to be valuable.
So, does my past define me? Like my friend was, am I currently defined by the things I have experienced, things done to me, things I have done? I would love to say that I'm not, but that wouldn't be true. It's not true because my past is a part of me. It colors how I see things, how I view experiences, and how long it takes me to trust people. It changed me, but that change was, in a lot of ways, good. I don't know that I would willingly experience that time again, but I know that God had a reason for it, and I don't want that to go to waste. To deny these experiences affected me at all would be to deny their purpose. I'm not willing to do that.
I am not my past, but I lived it. And survived.
Does the past define us? Does my past dictate who I am, who I will become? I feel like I have for the most part led a fairly typical life, not easy per se, but not terribly hard either. I've had my fair share of bumps and bruises, mostly emotional, but I also have a loving and nurturing family who have sheltered and protected me from the worst life could throw at me. About three years ago, however, I entered a period in my life unlike any I had ever experienced. No amount of love or nurturing from my family could have protected me from this, and as much as their support means to me, in the darkest times, I felt alone.
I never knew what it would feel like to wish for death, to hate living even more than the thought of leaving life unfinished. I never would have ended my life-but I thought of my life ending. I don't think I have ever cried that much before, spent so much time obsessing about how my life could be better, wishing and wanting to run away. I have never been that weak, nor have I ever been that strong. Because through it all, I kept living.
Up until recently I blamed this difficult time on a single bad relationship. I threw darts at mental dart board with that person's face on it as I rolled the thoughts of all the hurt I experienced over and over in my mind. I replayed hurtful things that were said to me to keep me strong when I might cave and forgive this person, when I was tempted to renew the friendship. And I have caved. Oh, have I caved. Until now.
It is only recently that I feel like I have surfaced from the depths of that time. I can almost feel my head breaking the surface of the water, and with relief feel my lungs dragging in a fresh breath of desperately needed air. And now I can look at my recent past with a little more critical an eye. I can see the mistakes I made, and some truths I have learned. I can think about the good times with a smile, and think about the bad times without crying or letting them make me feel like I am less of a person. I have come to terms with the fact that others may not see why this all hit me so hard, how it affected me, and I'm okay with that. I've learned that I don't need others to value my experiences for those experiences to be valuable.
So, does my past define me? Like my friend was, am I currently defined by the things I have experienced, things done to me, things I have done? I would love to say that I'm not, but that wouldn't be true. It's not true because my past is a part of me. It colors how I see things, how I view experiences, and how long it takes me to trust people. It changed me, but that change was, in a lot of ways, good. I don't know that I would willingly experience that time again, but I know that God had a reason for it, and I don't want that to go to waste. To deny these experiences affected me at all would be to deny their purpose. I'm not willing to do that.
I am not my past, but I lived it. And survived.
Friday, September 5, 2008
What I Learned from My Night with the Phantom
Last night I went to see the Phantom of the Opera. It was beautiful, a story I know well but have never seen live. The cast was excellent and the music, perfect. Despite the comments of a few audience members, I thought it was flawless. As I soaked in the magic of it all, though, a thought continuously nagged at my mind. This play has something to say about bondage to the things in our lives.
It started the first time the main character, Christine, saw the Phantom after he brought her to his lair. How could she, I questioned, still want to have anything to do with him, after being frightened of him, after seeing his "true" face (and not the disfigurement, but who he really was). She felt like she was trapped there, and you see it in action, how his music lures her and casts a spell. How could she go back to him, or let herself be drawn in? My annoyance grew throughout the first act and into the second until I realized, she is me. Me, or anyone else, for that matter. Don't we all have things in our life that we know lead to bondage of some kind or another? Yet, we allow ourselves to be drawn in again and again. Depending on what it is, the consequence of enslavement to it may be minor. For example, you can be in "bondage" to chocolate ('cause I know I am!). The consequence there is minor, maybe a few extra pounds if you indulge, or the longing for it when it's not available. But sometimes the consequences aren't minor.
Sometimes we are enslaved to things, or people, that take control of our lives, whether we realize it or not. The "music" of whatever, or whoever it is, lures us in, holds us captive, changes us. And whether we want it to or not our lives show the effects of it. It makes us unable to be who we really are, who we were created to be. We become, in a word, ineffective, so wholly consumed that there is no room for growth or positive change.
So, what then, you ask. There is no simple solution, I have discovered. I only know that we need to be so focused on the face of our Creator that all other faces are blurry in comparison. We need to be so filled with the life we are meant to have that there is no room for the meaningless fluff of whatever could consume us.
Easier said than done, I know. All we can do in life is our best. We weren't meant to handle it all, and whether you believe in God or not, you know at least that this is true.
It started the first time the main character, Christine, saw the Phantom after he brought her to his lair. How could she, I questioned, still want to have anything to do with him, after being frightened of him, after seeing his "true" face (and not the disfigurement, but who he really was). She felt like she was trapped there, and you see it in action, how his music lures her and casts a spell. How could she go back to him, or let herself be drawn in? My annoyance grew throughout the first act and into the second until I realized, she is me. Me, or anyone else, for that matter. Don't we all have things in our life that we know lead to bondage of some kind or another? Yet, we allow ourselves to be drawn in again and again. Depending on what it is, the consequence of enslavement to it may be minor. For example, you can be in "bondage" to chocolate ('cause I know I am!). The consequence there is minor, maybe a few extra pounds if you indulge, or the longing for it when it's not available. But sometimes the consequences aren't minor.
Sometimes we are enslaved to things, or people, that take control of our lives, whether we realize it or not. The "music" of whatever, or whoever it is, lures us in, holds us captive, changes us. And whether we want it to or not our lives show the effects of it. It makes us unable to be who we really are, who we were created to be. We become, in a word, ineffective, so wholly consumed that there is no room for growth or positive change.
So, what then, you ask. There is no simple solution, I have discovered. I only know that we need to be so focused on the face of our Creator that all other faces are blurry in comparison. We need to be so filled with the life we are meant to have that there is no room for the meaningless fluff of whatever could consume us.
Easier said than done, I know. All we can do in life is our best. We weren't meant to handle it all, and whether you believe in God or not, you know at least that this is true.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
My entry into the world of blogging
So, I'm creating a blog. My roommate has been recommending it for awhile now; sometimes as I'm talking about an issue she'll burst out with, "You really need a blog!". Personally, I think she just wants me to have an outlet so she doesn't have to hear about the same things over and over again. Just joking. Kind of. :)
It's kind of a strange thought, the idea of your inner thoughts splashed across a page for all to see, but I kind of like the idea. I'm an introvert, for the most part, so most of my rants stay in my head. The idea of having a forum to put them out there, even if they remain unheard (or, in this case unread) by anyone makes me smile a bit inside.
I know this is rather a weak first entry, but better things can be expected in the future. I'm quite an inward ranter, so it is pretty likely that this blog will be updated often.
That's all for now.
It's kind of a strange thought, the idea of your inner thoughts splashed across a page for all to see, but I kind of like the idea. I'm an introvert, for the most part, so most of my rants stay in my head. The idea of having a forum to put them out there, even if they remain unheard (or, in this case unread) by anyone makes me smile a bit inside.
I know this is rather a weak first entry, but better things can be expected in the future. I'm quite an inward ranter, so it is pretty likely that this blog will be updated often.
That's all for now.
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