Mirrors

The year after I moved away from home, I was at a friend's house for the holidays and came across The Pretender, a TV series from the late 1990s, while browsing their story collection. Since my work had an automatic week off built in between Christmas and New Year's, I had ample time to devour this new story.

With food for the body and food for the mind, I tend to go through a sort of seasons. At one time, I may always crave cheese, or tuna salad, or my veggie concoction... Then I'll hit a point where that item is no longer fulfilling and I'll rarely eat it over the next year or so. I suspect it has to do with particular nutritional needs at any given time. The same applies to stories. When I come across the right story at the right time, it become integral to my diet until whichever insight need has been fulfilled. This explains my pre-occupations that were so focused on Merlin a couple months ago and The Avengers a couple months before that. (I have long been aware of this pattern, I simply explain it for the reader's understanding.)

In the case of The Pretender, the most obvious connection is found in the back-story of a hero who had been held captive since, being discovered as a genius, childhood who finally escaped the people who only wanted to use and control him while learning and experiencing the normal life elements he had missed in captivity. Being in the process of breaking with home and extricating my identity and will from the messed-up manipulations and expectations and demands that kept me bound to it, the literal fight for understanding and independence and the joy of being free resonated deeply in my spirit.

The were many specific parts of the show that also left deep impressions, but the one that was most important was in an episode about identity. I do not remember the particulars, the season, episode title, episode details, etc... What I do remember is that Jarod, the hero, had reason to remember back to his time in 'The Center' (where he'd been held captive) when he refused to solve some puzzle because he'd become aware that he had never even seen his face in a mirror. He didn't know who he was or where he came from, where his parents were, even his last name. He knew they wouldn't give him any other information, but at the moment, he needed to know what he looked like - to see what/who he was.

During this same time period, I'd been struggling with the recognition that while the gospel taught me that God loved me and that I could find peace in doing my best, my dad's constant echoes and his perception of me (recall that these perceptions had me to the point of feeling guilty for even existing...) would regularly drown out that peace. It was a fair roller-coaster ride trying to handle the polar opposites. It was also greatly upsetting in trying to understand how the man who should be my protector was my greatest torment and how the one who should love me most constantly thought such evil of me. My nature has always been one to respond quickly to expectations and guidance so to be treated with such a heavy, emotionally rough hand left deeper wounds than might otherwise have been suffered.

Reflecting back, further in time, I have always had a talent for avoiding notice (surely made stronger by trying to avoid further negative attention at home) to the point that I'd be surprised to see myself in a picture. I'd also be surprised to see what I looked like since, even having a mirror, I'd never actually look at myself, just focus on the particulars that needed attention - hair, eyelashes for mascara, etc... I think I was scared to see that I really was the terrible, worthless person God surely despised the way dad always made me out to be. In fact, to see myself, having no intrinsic value, I had to look through the eyes of others. Furthermore, walking around the halls in high school, I often felt like a pair of floating eyeballs: seeing, observing, but never seen. Never part. All there was to see was either neutral or negative.

When I made it to this particular episode (perhaps on the second time through, I can't be sure), all these elements had been percolating for some time. When Sydney, Jarod's mentor/handler, finally obtained permission to let him look in a mirror, Sydney told him, "This is who you are." I'm pretty sure I paused the show for quiet because at the same time, it was as if a concept unfolded in my mind. It was symbolized by a tall, standing mirror that I knew was my dad's, with him in front of it. I was standing apart. To make the meaning more readily understood, imagine everyone with their own mirror. But I didn't have one. I had to go by the reflections in everyone else's mirrors. Returning to my image of just my dad's mirror, it was as though the Spirit told me to take a close look at his mirror. It was covered with dirt and grime and dust and stains. Suddenly I understood that dad's view of me was so negative not because I was so horrible, but because the means he was using to view me was filthy. When I heard, "This is who you are" I also 'heard' Heavenly Father say, "You need to use my mirror to see who you really are, not his, not theirs. Your own. Mine."

It was, for me, a revolutionary concept. Probably basic for many others, but then many others have not lived my life with my personal nature, either. I cannot say I have it down all the way, but with every passing year, my own mirror is clearer and the reflections of others less so. I still stumble and get distracted sometimes, but then something reminds me of this epiphany and I remember to look in the right mirror again. I'm writing this blog now because I just went through this process again this week.

This concept reminds me of the scripture in 1 Corinthians 13:12.

 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

Someday all the mirrors will be clear and we won't get distracted and confused by the distorted reflections of smudged looking glasses, dirty mirrors. Someday we will know, without question, the value God sees in each of us and in each other. Until then, we just need to be careful about our mirrors. Are we using our own, and are we keeping them as clean and clear as we can? It will affect how we judge others. It will affect how we judge ourselves.

(P.S. If any of you have watched The Pretender, you may have noticed it begins to leave a darker feeling the further it progresses. I did not realize that until trying to watch it again last year when I found I had to only watch a few shows at a time to avoid a build-up of home feelings and thought patterns in my mind. I can only assume that having come so freshly from such a negative situation and still freshly battling the wrong patterns, the show's 'vibe' meshed so well with what I had come from it was unnoticeable at the time. Once I was far more free of it, the distinction was much more apparent.)

Biggest Fears

The years just before and after my mom died were the most stressful and difficult in my life. It often got to the point where I would stay out talking after stake institute classes (one-night-a-week church study classes for college-age students - for any non-Mormon readers) for hours with anyone who would stay with me because it was the closest I could get to actually relaxing. One guy in the single's group would stay out talking with me the longest each week. I confess that I was oblivious, due to already stated stress levels, to any deeper intentions on his end. I was just grateful for an excuse not to go home where the tension needed something much more heavy-duty than a mere knife...

One night, we got talking about facing the hard things in life and he said that he believes we will all ultimately have to face our biggest fears. He supported it by listing a couple big ones he'd already lived through. He then said that having done so, he did not find many things worth fearing anymore. While there were a number of things about this guy that I could not agree with, I have often reflected on this insight of his and find it valid in my own life.

In seminary (similar week-day classes for high-school age students) we had a get-to-know you activity at the beginning of one semester. As part of it, we were to give our greatest fear. It wasn't long for me to land on what was mine and so I waited patiently, listening as the question was answered around the room. There were plenty of spiders for girls (and even a guy or two). I think someone said they were afraid of a family member dying. Dying, themselves. Public speaking. Common things that aren't surprising. When it came to be my turn, I stood and said simply, "My greatest fear is that no-one will care about me." One of my classmates had a look of horror on his face at the thought of having no-one care about him. I guess people with good family relations and friends don't think of such things.

I think of the years after that where I would go to my classes, work, church, and manage everything for home and there are periods of time, sometimes months on end, where that 'fear' was reality. I'm sure some of you are thinking, 'Of course people cared about you. You probably just didn't realize it.' I would ask you if there is no evidence of the caring, such that the person is left looking at the world and their burdens alone, how does that 'caring' = caring? Much like the idea that 'faith without works is dead', a 'feeling' stated but not acted upon makes it an empty word. Does a player (male or female) who tells everyone they date 'I love you' actually love those they say it to? Or is it just a tool of manipulation with no intrinsic value? Or if it still has a seed of value, is that seed given enough nourishment to grow to anything sustainable?

I have faced finding my mother dead. I faced financial difficulties. I have faced some pretty difficult health problems. I have faced betrayal, rejection, and scorn. And I have faced the devastating effects that decades of abuse leaves behind. I considered the parking-lot friend's words valid when he spoke them, but I have come to recognize their truth through continuing experience.

Why can I say that? I can because each time a person faces something so much bigger than them and refuses to be defeated they come to realize they were not so small to begin with. Because even when something is more than you can handle yourself, there are the few you can go to for a breather of help. You just have to be willing to look, to ask. I suppose my church membership may be seen as an advantage that others do not have, but I will tell you now - if you need help, look up the local bishop and give him a call. You don't have to be a member, you don't have to listen to missionary discussions. We are here to help anyone in need.

And in those instances where the people around you really just can't understand, consider that God does and that He's there to help you. For any atheist readers, consider that we are all part of the human race and as members in the same race, the same respect we can see applying to others we can apply to ourselves. We are worth fighting through the hard times even if it seems no one else thinks so. Think on how many have suffered such great things and pulled out the brighter and the stronger for it! Every one of us can do the same.

I have faced a lot. Some I had thought to fear and some that had not occurred to me to fear before they appeared. Ultimately, I have found that fear is not a very helpful emotion. It is a human emotion, though, and I tend to be most vulnerable to it when I am particularly stressed or tired. Despite the way my dad viewed them, emotions are not bad or the evidence of a weak person. Having survived so many things already, I have come to realize that each 'crises'  is really just the next puzzle, adventure, dilemma, challenge to overcome. It may not be easy, and it may stretch me farther than I imagined possible, but we humans are resilient creatures. And I know I can do it as I have already done so before. So really, what is there to fear?

"That there should be no schism in the body..."

I have clearly been remiss in keeping up w/ the blog. Truth is, I have been greatly preoccupied in considering an upcoming move, overwhelmed with an influx of the neighborhood garden excess (somehow I'm a critical step in the off-loading process even though I'm harvesting from a simple garden of my own...), and dealing with exhaustion in general from a continuing valley in the overall health state. Writing just hasn't been the highest on my priority list and trouble concentrating beyond the rest has left me with insufficient brain-power to care to focus on any blog-post subject for the time it would take to get one out.

After a couple more big cooking projects to try to use up some of the monster zucchinis that keep showing up on my door-step like morning manna, I'm also quite exhausted today. I'm supposed to be more careful with how long I stand, but between the zucchini recipe and the cookies (hey - after all these veggie dishes, you'd want a treat, too) I kinda pushed the limit. After the previous veggie cook-up (14 cups worth!) I was out of it for two days. Actually fairly out of it right now - you just can't see how many times I zone out while typing before posting.

So why am I sharing the personal? Why am I showing how even a basic project for a few hours (I'm following instructions after all) leaves me so wiped? Why am I even telling you that my life is so limited by health issues that the doctors can only recognize but can't explain or fix? Issues that almost have me house bound. Why even tell you something like that? Why presume you'd even care to hear about it?

Believe it or not, there is actually a purpose. I'm hoping I can focus well enough on it even now because it's a thought that's been percolating in the back of my mind in general and directly applicable to what's been going on in my world of late.

As I said at the beginning, I'm preparing to move in the next couple of months. I have some basic ideas to what I want but I'm not completely sure how to make it work (Heavenly Father will have to do that) or what/how I need to approach it to get what I want out of the move. I don't want to be so isolated anymore but in a ward full of grandparents and in the city of the hated past where I'm always on the watch to avoid interactions with people who'd unknowingly stir it back up, I'm kind of living in my own quiet corner, keeping to myself. But I don't want that to be my life for the foreseeable future.

I want to have people my age to interact with. I want to be close enough to activities and life so that, finally having friends again, I can have to support to be part of life again. I want to be in a situation to try to follow my dreams even though my health's such an unpredictable roller-coaster I can't really guarantee how much I can do or when I can do it. I want to be able to make a difference in the world, see the world, and reach out to people with truth through story and the gospel and I can't bear the thought of sitting around waiting for the doctors to figure it out before I start. I've had blessings say they'll manage it and fix it, but I've finally realized that none of them said when that would happen.

And so it occurs that maybe I can find a place to volunteer. Maybe, by not being an employee, they won't have the pressure of expectations for pay and I won't have the pressure of trying to meet them even if I keep crashing and have to rest. Maybe that will mean they'll have patience with the fact that I don't know much about the film industry and so I can pick things up until the docs do get it straightened out. And then I'd have experience and contacts/references to help me move forward with actual employment.

Only, I've been having enough trouble that I've needed help getting home from church next door one out of every two weeks. I have things I need to do before moving and I don't have enough energy or focus. I don't want to bother people needing enough rides (losing focus and dizzy spells mean driving would be a bad idea...) to do everything since I crash every time I go out. (Note, 'crash' regards to blood pressure falling and muscles not responding and insane sudden weakness/light-headed-ness. Not in reference to driving...)

Are you surprised I've been a bit overwhelmed and even discouraged? How can I imagine that life will be any different when I move? How can I think I can make a difference when I can't even get out on my own to interact with people? How can my life have as much potential now as when my body actually managed to function? What could Heavenly Father actually do with me in this state? Wouldn't/Aren't I just being a burden on everyone? Because I'll clearly need some serious help to do what I'm hoping to. (Those last two questions most indicative of lingering home negativity and abuse...)

I'll tell you something, though. Once I realized that the fear and doubt and discouragement were the opposite of the Lord's purposes (go figure who that indicates...) I was able to recognize how much I have already been helped. I was able to feel the confidence and encouragement and assurance that things actually will pull together. I may not know how. I may not know exactly where it will take me. But once I started seeing the hope, the stress has dropped by half. I'm still super exhausted and I still have much to determine, but the Lord has a purpose even for me.

This brings me to the thought in the back of my head. In 1 Corinthians 12, it talks about the gifts of the Spirit and how we are all part of the body of Christ (metaphorically speaking) and how the body best functions when all the different parts are represented rather than every part being the same. A body of feet couldn't eat. A body of eyes would never get anywhere. A bunch of bones would become a dust heap, and ligaments and tendons are pointless without bones and muscles. The parallels can go as deep as our current understanding of physiology.

Paul is writing this epistle to two sets of people. To those who condemn others for being of less value than they imagine themselves to be. And to those who fear that they are less than others due to the happenstance of their placement in life.

The pituitary glands are said to be the size of grains of rice, yet they have direct influence on how my body (mis-) manages my blood pressure. I am very anxious for the small things that aren't functioning properly to be found and remedied to return the level of activity I previously enjoyed. I care about them because of how they affect me.

But God does not consider our value quite the same way. I've already considered this concept in how I see others and wishing they saw their value, but I'm beginning to consider that and how it actually applies to me. Maybe it's a bit harder for me as I didn't have the benefit of being loved, or appreciated beyond my Cinderella services, at home. Or that dad repeatedly made it clear I had no right to expect or even hope for indications of value, self-worth. Maybe one of the lessons I'm meant to get out of learning to deal with this seriously annoying health situation is not just to ask for and accept help, but that needing help doesn't mean I am lacking. It just is what it is and as I have part in this life, I have just as much right to help and love and purpose and direction as I'd see in every other child of God. Even if things aren't working perfectly. And if God loves and wants to help me because He does, it seems I have no need to feel guilt for imagining and hoping and expecting that He will.