Honest, I choose champagne

I miss writing in bars.

The title really hasn’t nothing to do with this blog. It’s just really true.

And I’m tired.

And I’m kind of sick of saying that.

Now, before you come at me with SO MANY obvious ways I could have more energy-I want you to know that I know them all. (please don’t come for me MLMs)

My tired isn’t a physical tired. (I mean it is. I am physically tired and no amount of espresso helps that.)

My soul is tired. My insides. And I know I’m not alone.

I don’t state I’m tired, or that I’ve had a long day, week or that 3 year olds are depleting the Miss Meg magic out of me for sympathy.

I state it because all I’ve wanted in my adult life is for other people to know that they aren’t alone.

That’s honestly in my unwritten mission statement that you, my friend or whomever is reading this, is not alone.

I spent a lot of my growing up feeling incredibly alone.

I was made fun of and picked on so much it was honestly easier to just be alone. If I had my 7th grade year book with me I could take a picture of a picture inside. I had on an oversized polo, my probably slightly permed hair was in a pony tail and my bangs were shaggy over my face and I had big glasses on and I was holding a book at lunch. I decided after too many lunches of feeling outcast from the people I knew from youth group that it was just easier to have a book with me from the library and find a quiet corridor that didn’t have a lot of people that normally passed by and eat my lunch alone.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve obviously come out of my shell more, I’ve gained and lost friends and gained some back again. I have beautiful people in my life from all walks.

But, every once and awhile that lonely feeling cuts through me and I see that 7th grade girl who was never anyone’s first choice. I see a someone who lived as a perpetual third wheel. I see someone who was never enough.

I see someone who has this tiny voice in the back of her brain that tells her that this will be the thing, this is the thing where they leave. This tiny voice that reminds me that I am not the first choice. I am just good old reliable single Meghan who will always be there.

And once again; I don’t say for sympathy or for “oh that’s not true” (I know it’s not true, it just FEELS true in my brain sometimes).

I say it, for the reminder that whatever narrative plays in your brain from past or current situations that you believe states something about who you are is not who you are.

You are not the lies that come from the actions other people have done to you.

And I know.

I know believing those lies is so much easier than forcing them away.

Believing that you were hurt because of not being enough or because you did something to cause that person to act that way is so much easier.

Believing that people will run away like the girls did in fifth grade and will talk behind your back in high school is easier than getting hurt again.

Believing that we can never be more than we are is easier than trying to be more than we are.

Believing you are alone or single or without is much easier than allowing yourself to be loved.

And being invisible is much easier than being seen.

So…what do we do?

This morning my pastor brought up questions. Questions we ask God, questions we ask ourselves, each other- etc. But he also asked what questions is God asking you.

Now, I’m going to be honest, my moments with God and time in prayer is few and far between. I’m a questioner, a challenger and many other things in those conversations. I struggle with having a hope for a God that people use for hate. Because, that isn’t my Jesus and it’s something that’s a current ongoing conversation in my brain and heart.

But, clear as day, this morning I heard. “Well, will you keep going?”

And I thought for a moment- maybe it’s in terms of current life. Maybe it was my ability to keep doing the damn thing, day in and out. Even when I don’t feel like a badass preschool teacher. Even when I don’t feel like I have any Miss Meg magic. Even when I feel like I’m doing everything but my job.

As I began writing these words that apparently had a life of their own, I heard it again: “Well, will you keep going?”

Sometimes (a lot of the times) I feel as if I am too much. Like, people don’t want to walk along this with me and people know they aren’t alone and I should just stop wasting words.

So, will I keep going?

I can see myself not always being a Miss Meg.

I can see myself not always being in Washington.

I can see myself (this is a stretch) not always being single.

But, for the life of me, I cannot see myself choosing to bring myself to a place where I stop reminding people they aren’t alone.

I cannot see myself coming to a place where I stop putting pieces of myself out there in an effort for even just one person to know they aren’t alone.

And I can state without a doubt that you have things inside of you that you’ve stepped back from or though t was too much or didn’t want to do anymore because you felt it has no point.

It has a point.

It’s who you are.

It’s as simple and complicated as that.

So, I guess I pose my question from God to you.

Will you keep going?

And I really, really hope you do.

With love,

Meg

Honest

Human, raised by humans.

I feel like I am going to fail people on a pretty regular basis.

I’ve been twiddling my thumbs here for about an hour. I’ve started at least three different blogs and none of them settled until I wrote that sentence. I’ve been sitting here, drinking coffee, texting and judging coffee orders from men (yes, that’s a thing) and essentially trying to put words to the feelings I was feeling.

I’m not afraid to fail a task or not be able to do something the first time. I’m ok with asking clarifying questions.

But, I am so, so afraid that at some point people are going to see through whatever mask I feel like I am wearing and rip it off for everyone to see.

Somewhere in my life, I got it into my head that my authentic self, in all its glory was too much. Failure and fake go hand and hand to me.

If I don’t do all the things I can, if I don’t put everything I can into my life, there is a good chance I will fail someone. And there are a lot of people counting on me.

But, if I do juggle all the things and be all the things that I know I can be, what will people think? Will they think I’m too much? Will they think I am not being myself? 

I feel like a conundrum to myself a lot. I am the first person to tell you to jump, to do the damn thing, to be the thing. I can probably tell you exactly who I am (well, who I am in this season). I am confident in my knowledge of who God is to me, and I can tell you more about child development than I ever thought I could.

I guess, the thing is this:

I’m only human guys.

I’m not perfect, I’m not always nice, I don’t always like people, I don’t always make the right choice.

I’m scared of failing the tiny humans I care for each day. 

I’m terrified of not being good enough.

I choose my words more carefully then you will ever know.

My insecurity runs rampant more than I care to admit.
And I say this, all of this, to first and foremost remind you, the person currently reading these words, that YOU are human. 

You are allowed to be afraid.

To fail. To jump.

To make a bad call.

To walk fully in who you are.

You are allowed to choose.

I think that are times where we need, desperately, to give ourselves grace. To remember that we are not super heros. We are just humans. Which is lovely. We are JUST humans gifted with hearts and hands and brains and creative uses of all those things to use everyday.

And sometimes we WILL fail. And sometimes people won’t believe us. 

And that’s ok too.

I feel like it’s been awhile since brutal honesty has splashed out on my page. The inner workings of my mind on a daily basis. The insecurity I feel. How often I want to run myself. How I wore out the backspace key on my laptop.

But, my feet are firmly planted. Amidst all the things, I choose to show up. Amidst all of my fears, I haven’t quit my job. And amidst my insecurity I still write words.

So secondly, I write these words, to remind you, the human reading this, to not let any of those fears stop you. And if they are stopping you- please, please tell someone.

You don’t need to lay them out on a page like I just did. You don’t need to declare it from the rooftops. Just clear the clutter in your brain, tell it to a close friend, put it on a page, go to therapy, do something, anything.

You are not your fears, your failure, your insecurity.

I am not my fears, my failures, my insecurities.

I am a human, raised by humans, surrounded by humans, attempting to do my best to be who I am where my feet are.