on honesty. (or lack there of)

I had a FSBD today.

For those of you with your lives together, that stands for a “Freakishly Snotty Break Down.” You know those days, the ones where you cannot seem to slam innocent items hard enough, when your toes literally are trying to stub themselves, and when “to have and to hold” translates into “to hold in a head lock because I literally cannot with you right now.” And then there is the snot, the full blown ugly cry that only happens in front of the very people you do not want to see you cry. But, today, your body hates you and those snotty tears WILL NOT WAIT until you leave the room. Oh no, sister, they fall fast for everyone around to see your freakishly snotty break down. 

And please do not even get me started on the emotion migraine I get when after ALL THE FEELS in the world fill up my brain leaving me throbbing for the rest of the day just to remind me,

"Hey, remember this afternoon when you freaked so hard? I’m here just to keep reminding you that you really did do that. Remember all the snot? No? That’s okay, Emotional Migraine here and I will make sure you remember."

There are not enough head meds or Dr Peppers in the world to cure that guilt-filled guy. 

This FSBD brought to you by: a pile of dirty dishes. 

Not kidding, dishes. That is what started all of this. Okay, maybe the sleep I’ve not been getting, the failure to spend time in Scripture, and the crazy expectations I have of myself, spouse, and the cleanliness level of our house has something to do with it too. But I’m going to blame the damn dishes that should just learn how to wash themselves. To be honest, taking time to examine my motives and heart just seems like too much right now. 

OH, BUT IS THAT NOT THE KEY: TO BE HONEST? 

Because, if I am really being honest, I am afraid to talk about the truth.
If I am being honest, the truth points out my flaws.
And if I am honest, in my fragile, self-conscious state, I do not think I can handle seeing anymore of my flaws.
Because if I am honest, I feel like a failure—a failure in marriage, in ministry, in just having my life together.
And to be honest about “having my life together” points to un-truths I allow myself to believe about what it means to be a wife, church worker, and woman.
These un-truths I’m believing point out that I am allowing unexpressed expectations of others to determine how I am structuring my energy, time and focus.
Because honestly, I am constantly worrying about others’ opinions and expectations because deep down that is where I allow my worth to bloom.
And the honest truth is that those expectations are not the ones my husband and I have laid out for ourselves or roles, which makes me an even bigger failure at the whole wife & life thing.
The truth we agreed to live by is that we share all the roles—housekeeper, chef, shopper, lover, calendar manager, banker, encourager, leader, dog walker, adventurer, giver.
Because we understand that neither of us can truthfully carry all the weight gender roles say we have to.
We agreed, but honestly, I do not trust him to love me if I cannot be all those things at once. Which only leads to a bigger un-truth I have been living out lately, that I am not, nor will I ever be, enough—for him, for myself, and for all of life’s demands. 

ALL BECAUSE I HAVE FORGOTTEN THE REAL HONEST TRUTH.

I have forgotten that, although flawed, my husband’s love for me has always been consistent and there is no reason to start doubting that now. I have forgotten it is not my responsibility to be responsible for all the things. I fail to remember that if I just do some of the many, many things, the world will still turn. And that also reminds me that I forget that I have an incredible friend group who are willing to pick up the slack for when I cannot even do some of the things. I forget too, that this community group is not based off of performance levels and serving platters of what others can get from us. I forget that the very thing that drew us together was Love, the ultimate Truth that surpasses all of the other realities and trumps all of the lies. I forget that I do not need to save, to preform, to live up to expectations, to be all the things. I forget that there is a Savior over all the things who’s grand performance happened three days after being hung on a cross where He claimed that through Him and in Him, I am enough. He whispered “It is finished,” and part of me believes my FSBD falls into the category of things that died on the cross with my sin that day. As my sin, failures, and inabilities were crushed, a real-er reality was becoming concrete: that I am free to relax and rest in my new identity in Him. 

So yes, in light of my FSBD today, a pile of dirty dishes and dirty expectations were my overwhelming reality. But in light of my worth, I am so grateful for the spirit-filled reminder that the FSBD is not the real honest truth on which I am invited to base my life.