Dear little sister

I wrestled with this one for around a month, and then it all came to me while eating a pizza thanks to a certain little miss.

Dear little sister,

Your body is uncomfortable, your hair unruly and your personality awkward. Embrace it, we’ve all been there. The pre-teen blues have hit us all and the roots of your struggles still haunt all of us today. That girl behind you in class who was flirting with the boys and told you that your hair looked stupid, she’s just as uncomfortable as you are, also trying to find out where she fits. Ignore her torments, don’t let them scare your beautiful heart. I always wondered why I got stuck being the middle child, but tonight little one you helped me see why. God placed me between two sisters to have someone to try catch up with, but also someone who I could cushion if she fell and to have someone who I can encourage to run a little faster, while showing her where all the pot holes and hills were coming up.

Loving you is a great adventure! Sometimes it looks like singing and dancing in front of your whole year group to try embarrass you (we all know you were secretly stoked because I’m way cool). Sometimes it looks like an “I’m sorry” in the form of face masks, hair masks, candles, and bathbombs while we sit and sip our drinks for two hours. Sometimes it looks like allowing you to crash my hangout with my friends. Sometimes it looks like waking up early to do your hair for school. Sometimes it looks like holding you when you cry. Tonight, it looked like me overcoming my own hangups and insecurities to allow you to see that I mean it when I say that “anything looks good if you wear it with confidence.” It looked like me wearing a ponytail so messy that I would never wear it outside the house and rocking the same hairstyle as you at my old stomping ground, to show you that being different is stunning and so much fun!

Eldest said to you this afternoon that when people feel uncomfortable and threatened that they will try to drag you down. That is true, beyond just situations where you clumsily say something that you should have kept on your side of the filter. The world tries to drag you down even when they are meaning to compliment and edify your identity. The labels we hang on each other to identify one another, end up restricting our characters. People will be slow to compliment your looks because the girl sitting next to you has already been labelled “The beautiful one.” They will be slow to tell you how amazing you are at netball, because the other girl in your team has been labelled “The sporty one.” They will be slow to recognise your creativity because the boys at the back of the class has been labelled as “The musical one,” “The artistic one” and “The performer.” They will not esteem your grades because someone else has been titled “The smart one” and your jokes are ignored because someone else wears the sticker saying “The funny one.” You will question your identity because your sticker remains blank for so long. Then one day you realise that over time you have gathered not only one, but a few stickers; people have recognised something in you and plastered it on your jacket. The problem is, that you do not feel that there are enough stickers. That is understandable, I am still fighting to have some of mine slapped onto me.

We as humans like things to be as simplistic as possible, but in our very nature we are beautifully complex. You can carry both strength and gentleness in your soul, you can be an extrovert who craves alone time or an introvert that has a booked out social calendar, you can be both an athlete and love all things girly and you can be both an old soul and a child at heart. You fortunately are growing up in a generation that is very aware how damaging some of the labels that have been plastered on women are and have been, but you will still grow up effected by them. Please try to embrace only the positive labels tossed your way, and please dear sister, do not be acutely aware of the ones that are withheld. I doubted myself so much because the labels of “feminine,” “gentle,” “caring,” “domestic,” “beautiful” and “patient” were always given to Eldest, while she doubted herself because I was given “dedicated,” “strong,” “disciplined,” “leader,” and “successful.” I dreamed of receiving a gentle gaze while she dreamed of walking away with a trophy. It’s messed up baby girl. A woman is so much more than a beautiful face and bikini body, but also more than a strong spirit and intelligent mind. You are a beautifully complex individual who cannot be summed up with all the words in the world.

So little sister, accept the compliments that the world will dish you, cherish the ones that come repeatedly, but never let them become so dear to you that they define you. Do not get so caught up in trying to look pretty and on trend. Do not worry about presenting a consistent image, confuse them by wearing phat pants and messy hair one day and makeup up and heels the next. Keep them guessing baby, be every part of yourself as fully as you can be! Never hold back, if you can be more you, be. The world will try to understand you, try to define you and then try to compliment or instruct you to me you a little bit better. Do not listen, no one can be you as well as you or tell you how to do you better. No one can define you because there is not a label that captures the fullness of you. Keep your head up, rock your big curly hair, and look life right in the eye and laugh that infectious laugh of yours. Be you, and be you bravely, one day you will change the world.

I'm here.

From a year to six days, we are making progress people! Thank you for all the wonderful feedback, means the absolute world! Without further ado, I'm here:

After dipping a toe into Pandora’s Box last week I got scared about what to write about next because any further in would have to be a head-first, full submersion into the deep end. A friend of mine raised the point however, that in order for you to be authentic with someone and be honest about what was really going on inside, trust and openness is required on their behalf as well. Half of the fear of opening up comes from how you will be perceived. Now please do not misunderstand last week’s post, I am not advocating for a life where you throw your bleeding heart out on every table. No, that is just asking for more pain and heartbreak. Matthew 7:6 sums up the caution required with who you share with quite well and is a verse that has been rippling through my head all week: "Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.” In order to share we need to know who to share with, so as I prepare to dive into my own Pandora’s Box I thought I would first write about being “here.”

I feel as though our knee-jerk reaction to a bleeding heart is to feel uncomfortable and then shove it aside with a promise of support at a future time – “I’m here if you need to talk.” Though we really mean, “Just not right now because I am not ready to deal with this.” It is too awkward to face the music when it is playing, so we hit pause. We are disturbed by the sudden imperfection of someone’s mask, and the fact that they are willing to take theirs off scares us as being there for them comes at a cost. It requires us to take off our mask; we must meet a human mess with a human heart.

I have found in the last two months, as my life took a rough tumble, that so many people say that they are there for you, but few follow through. I do not have the best track record as far as maintaining friendships is concerned so trusting someone enough to open up was scary. My heart was yearning for someone to come pick up the pearls that had fallen from my neck, and as I had heard many times before “I’m here if you need someone to talk to” was on repeat throughout conversations. I brushed aside all the “I’m here” statements as I was sick of hearing them. I was sick of never having a hand extended out when I was in a crisis, beyond wanting to know out of a gossip-centred curiosity. I was sick of people not being open to the messiness of my heart because they expected me to be put together all the time.

But the extraordinary happened. The first friend followed up. She pursued me with persistence until I met her for a sugar-loaded hot chocolate and brownie date and wanted to know how my heart was, not the details of what happened. Then the next friend followed up with a block of my favourite chocolate and a thoughtful note. Then a care package arrived from another. Friends brought me tissues and held me when I cried and I was overwhelmed. I did not know this kind of genuine friendship and I saw that through their authentic care and my vulnerability doors were opened to get to know my friends in new ways. I showed them my insecurities and bleeding heart and instead of being put off or just trying to cover them with bandages, they put theirs on the table and we just let the pain sit together. I found comfort in silent cries, unspoken confessions of a terrible day and tales of life-long battles. My pain did not seem as enormous and the mountain before me was no longer unconquerable because there were people beside me with similar burdens on their back and blisters on their feet.

It convicted me of all the past “I’m here’s” that I have muttered and how little of those that I have followed up with. I was also surprised at the number of memes that I came across depicting our avoidance of emotion and honesty out of fear of awkwardness and discomfort. We need to learn to accept that friendship is uncomfortable and awkward at times, and that is okay. It is okay to not know how to handle tears and it is okay to not have the answers for your friend’s problems. What is not okay is letting that put you off not being there. Embrace the uncomfortable and just be there, just listen and ask them the next time you see them how they have been – do not just be there for a once off conversation. A friend said to me the other day that is when you are going through a crisis that you find out who your real friends are and I could not agree more! The friends that offer to call you when you send out an S.O.S. text message, that ask you the next day how you are coping, that check in on your crisis management plan months after disaster struck – those are your true friends.

Showing your support does not need to be in the form of a tangible gift or a catch-up that costs money; the times where I was allowed to just sit and cry on the floor at church next to a friend was enough. All it needs to cost is time and vulnerability on your side to receive their bleeding heart and hold it gently. As Bob Goff said, “Most people need love and acceptance a lot more than they need advice.” I challenge you this week to reach out to a friend that has shared something of their heart with you before and follow up, ask how they are doing and put actions to your “I’m here” statements. It may come up empty, that they are not hurting anymore, but you would have opened a door to an authentic friendship. You would be stepping out of the pig pen to pick up their pearls as a friend. It requires that two take off their masks and open their hearts for there to be honesty, comfort and restoration. It takes two to successfully navigate Pandora’s Box.

Also a MASSIVE thank you and big shout out to those friends that have challenged me in the last year to be authentically me and those that have held my bleeding heart with graceful awkwardness and confident discomfort. You are the real MVP.

Good thanks

So, it has been roughly a year since I last posted which is shocking, but I sat down today and poured myself onto paper and hoped for the best. My friend Mima also blogs (found here) and has been doing a few series as of late which has inspired me to do one of my own. I have no idea exactly where it will lead, but hopefully down a good rabbit hole. Without further ado, welcome to my new roller-coaster friends!

I’m good thanks.

Three words we use multiple times a day. Three words that often make us lie multiple times a day. In a world that is increasingly connected, many people have noted that we are becoming more emotionally disconnected from those around us. It infiltrates relationships, friendships and even your understanding of yourself. Saying that you are okay has become the knee-jerk reaction to when anyone asks how you are doing because we are constantly in the pursuit of presenting ourselves as put-together online that we do it in person as well. It is very rare that someone feels comfortable enough to really share what is going on in their mind. It is then very rare to say of someone, “what you see with them is what you get.” In other words, we are not authentically ourselves.

In recent conversations that I have had with friends at university I have realised how little my friends away from home really know me. As soon as I set foot in my family home for holidays it as though I am taking off a jacket and allowing myself to fully be myself after months of constraining myself. Why? I feel as though my lame dad-joke humour goes unnoticed among my friends and I do not feel as though the drinking, partying culture leaves much room for me to be something other than a party animal. I enjoy a good party, but enjoy it so much more when you are genuinely connecting with those you are dancing with and can laugh about it for many months to come. When pure excitement makes you lose your inhibition rather than having to down enough happy juice to have a good time. I hate that I have hidden myself for over eighteen months, despite trying very hard to be more myself.

But the problem goes deeper than that, I was going through a super hard time last year, but told no one because I felt isolated and ashamed in my struggle. No one talked about struggling, no one ever talked about the struggle I was facing. Because they were all “good” all the time. Nothing bothered them in their sugar coated public lives. I decided that enough was enough, I was not good and needed to talk to someone. The more I opened up about what I was going through, the more I found that everyone was struggling and just needed someone else to come forward and be real. Even my most hidden and shameful struggles proved to be points of understanding with the most outwardly perfect people I knew. People sat behind closed doors, covered in a blanket of shame and loneliness, when reality was that every one of their neighbours were fighting the same battles. It is sickening how we isolate ourselves in a crowd of people because no one is brave enough to take the first step and say, “I’m not okay today” or “Actually, I’ve been struggling lately with…”

What sickened me most about this? It happened at church, the one place you should feel comfortable enough to put your heart out on the table. Everyone at church was joyful and excited to be there, which is infectious and wonderful. But there was no space in the path that I walked at church where anyone said, “today sucked.” The more I confronted this and confided in people though, the more doors opened for “I’m not okay, I’ve been struggling” conversations. These were hushed in private conversations after services and then extended to cafes when 20 minutes was not enough to speak your heart. But no one dares stand in front of the whole church and admit to something real. We talk about trivial struggles all the time, but never the real ones. It seems that Jesus’ sacrifice was enough to forgive our sins, but not the shame and guilt that comes along with it. It is true that no one wants to go parading around their dirty laundry, but why is it that no one seems willing to even admit in a safe environment that it exists?

Over the next few posts (that hopefully will be less than a year apart), I plan on airing my laundry. Publicly and on the internet. Not because I am looking for attention, because considering the people that this is exposed to I would much rather keep in hidden, but because I want to start the conversation. I want people to be able to say when they sit next to their friends in lecture halls that they had a terrible weekend, to be able to tell their flat mates that they are feeling sad and to open up to others about the taboo struggles that are only taboo because they are messy and uncomfortable. So please friend, whoever you are, treat these next few posts with sensitivity and care because Pandora’s Box needs to be opened.