In my "electric youth," I was a HUGE fan of popstar Debbie Gibson. I had both of her hit albums (on cassette, of course) and I listened to them on repeat (before repeat even existed.) ;) I recently listened to one of her songs on YouTube, and discovered that despite having not heard it in nearly two DECADES now...I still remember every word. Funny things, brains. ;)
As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I've encountered a few snags of late--primarily with my health, but ultimately with my sense of self and my emotional well-being. This is another way that brains are funny. I mean, I am surrounded (in a nearby sense and in a far-reaching sense) by people who love and care for me and want the very best for me. I think I'm the only one who worries that I'm not doing a good enough job; or that I'm not living up to the expectations others have of me. I'll tell ya, this kind of worry can be debilitating! And it snowballs!!!! :(
My home church Brenthaven sent a pretty amazing care package recently, and one thing I immediately claimed from the box is a cute little picture frame in the shape of a Saint Bernard clumsily and crookedly holding up a photo. I put a picture of my mother's parents in it and placed it on top of the TV that's been unplugged since May. When I write or read, I am always on the sofa next to this TV. Lately, I've even been SLEEPING in here, on account of all the tiny spiders that come in through my bedroom window. (We need not revisit my issues of arachnophobia, right?) ::shivers:: ...Anyway, I see that photo every day. My grandparents were wonderful people--generous, often tender, and always setting a good example. I miss the way my grandma smelled and the way she'd leave my head lying in her lap for hours as she play with my hair. (Nobody plays with hair like my grandma.) :) And I miss my grandpa, who softened during my lifetime from a gruff and sometimes impatient old man to a warm-hearted marshmallow who could barely make it through a prayer without crying. I remember clearly, when I was 21, a conversation I had with him. I was packing up the car to go back to Nashville and he had me sit beside him on the couch. He pulled a check from his pocket...but before he gave it to me, he said (through tears), "Ever since you were born, I've known you were special. You are meant to do something wonderful. God has healed you, now don't waste it," and gave me the $100 (a huge gift by our family's standards.) My car ride home was a bit surreal after this exchange. ...What did he meeeeean? This question still haunts me.
When I sit in my apartment feeling sick or stressed, it crosses my mind that...I may be or may HAVE "wasted it." Where is the special? Where is the wonderful? I start asking questions like these and then I start to doubt myself...
There's a game I learned as an orientation leader at Naropa University, wherein one partner asks the other "Who are you?" ten or more times, requiring the responding partner to dig deeper and deeper to find different, genuine answers to that question. Feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed lately, I decided to play this game with myself while walking the hills of my neighborhood toward the station. ...I couldn't get past the first round. Being out of class and on break from teaching and alone because of illness, I lost my sense of purpose. ...So, who am I? I'm one who THRIVES on interaction with other people. To some degree (for better or worse) I rather define myself by the relationships I'm able to cultivate and the synchronicity with which remarkable people come into my life. I'm an extrovert who definitely requires some alone time, but becomes depleted by excessive time alone. I'm fearless AND anxious. I'm quick to forgive BUT hard on myself. I'm a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, a writer, an actress, an American, a fatherless woman, a teacher, a missionary, a person driven by optimism, empathy, compassion, and humor. ...I'm kinda wacky. Sometimes I'm grumpy. Sometimes I think things that don't make sense. Sometimes I laugh out loud for 15 or more minutes...with no one else around. I've seen and done a lot of things. I've known and forgotten a lot of things. ...There are a lot of things I can't forget.
So here I am...in Japan...without my usual surroundings. Even speaking to my mother requires copious scheduling. I'm noticing my continuous blessings and trying to reconnect with myself and with other people and with that feeling you get that can only be God. ...When Debbie Gibson outgrew the "teenybopper"scene, she tried to reinvent herself as "Deborah Gibson." All of her music, movies, and television appearances list her only as "Deborah Gibson," as though this "Debbie" never existed. DEBORAH is more mature and experienced. DEBBIE is a child, a phase meant to be left behind.
If the time has come, I'd say I've entered a cocoon phase. Maybe soon, I'll slash it open and emerge as a different, stronger, more inspiring version of myself. Maybe the RheAnn I know will become more RheAnn-ish and spread her RheAnn wings. I don't know what wonderful thing I'm meant to do...or if I've done it...or if it's SINGULAR! Maybe there's a million wonderful things awaiting!! I don't know what to do or how to do it, but I feel on the verge of making a pretty huge leap. ...And I don't think I need to change my name or pose for Playboy to do it. (Oh, little Debbie, little Debbie!) ;)
I'm ready to see what I'm to become..
As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I've encountered a few snags of late--primarily with my health, but ultimately with my sense of self and my emotional well-being. This is another way that brains are funny. I mean, I am surrounded (in a nearby sense and in a far-reaching sense) by people who love and care for me and want the very best for me. I think I'm the only one who worries that I'm not doing a good enough job; or that I'm not living up to the expectations others have of me. I'll tell ya, this kind of worry can be debilitating! And it snowballs!!!! :(
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| Desolation: This was taken last weekend, in the creepiest subway station EVER--heading home after one of the best *days* ever!! |
My home church Brenthaven sent a pretty amazing care package recently, and one thing I immediately claimed from the box is a cute little picture frame in the shape of a Saint Bernard clumsily and crookedly holding up a photo. I put a picture of my mother's parents in it and placed it on top of the TV that's been unplugged since May. When I write or read, I am always on the sofa next to this TV. Lately, I've even been SLEEPING in here, on account of all the tiny spiders that come in through my bedroom window. (We need not revisit my issues of arachnophobia, right?) ::shivers:: ...Anyway, I see that photo every day. My grandparents were wonderful people--generous, often tender, and always setting a good example. I miss the way my grandma smelled and the way she'd leave my head lying in her lap for hours as she play with my hair. (Nobody plays with hair like my grandma.) :) And I miss my grandpa, who softened during my lifetime from a gruff and sometimes impatient old man to a warm-hearted marshmallow who could barely make it through a prayer without crying. I remember clearly, when I was 21, a conversation I had with him. I was packing up the car to go back to Nashville and he had me sit beside him on the couch. He pulled a check from his pocket...but before he gave it to me, he said (through tears), "Ever since you were born, I've known you were special. You are meant to do something wonderful. God has healed you, now don't waste it," and gave me the $100 (a huge gift by our family's standards.) My car ride home was a bit surreal after this exchange. ...What did he meeeeean? This question still haunts me.
 |
| The birth of wonder: Baby me, makin' faces with Mom, circa 1981 |
When I sit in my apartment feeling sick or stressed, it crosses my mind that...I may be or may HAVE "wasted it." Where is the special? Where is the wonderful? I start asking questions like these and then I start to doubt myself...
There's a game I learned as an orientation leader at Naropa University, wherein one partner asks the other "Who are you?" ten or more times, requiring the responding partner to dig deeper and deeper to find different, genuine answers to that question. Feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed lately, I decided to play this game with myself while walking the hills of my neighborhood toward the station. ...I couldn't get past the first round. Being out of class and on break from teaching and alone because of illness, I lost my sense of purpose. ...So, who am I? I'm one who THRIVES on interaction with other people. To some degree (for better or worse) I rather define myself by the relationships I'm able to cultivate and the synchronicity with which remarkable people come into my life. I'm an extrovert who definitely requires some alone time, but becomes depleted by excessive time alone. I'm fearless AND anxious. I'm quick to forgive BUT hard on myself. I'm a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend, a writer, an actress, an American, a fatherless woman, a teacher, a missionary, a person driven by optimism, empathy, compassion, and humor. ...I'm kinda wacky. Sometimes I'm grumpy. Sometimes I think things that don't make sense. Sometimes I laugh out loud for 15 or more minutes...with no one else around. I've seen and done a lot of things. I've known and forgotten a lot of things. ...There are a lot of things I can't forget.
So here I am...in Japan...without my usual surroundings. Even speaking to my mother requires copious scheduling. I'm noticing my continuous blessings and trying to reconnect with myself and with other people and with that feeling you get that can only be God. ...When Debbie Gibson outgrew the "teenybopper"scene, she tried to reinvent herself as "Deborah Gibson." All of her music, movies, and television appearances list her only as "Deborah Gibson," as though this "Debbie" never existed. DEBORAH is more mature and experienced. DEBBIE is a child, a phase meant to be left behind.
If the time has come, I'd say I've entered a cocoon phase. Maybe soon, I'll slash it open and emerge as a different, stronger, more inspiring version of myself. Maybe the RheAnn I know will become more RheAnn-ish and spread her RheAnn wings. I don't know what wonderful thing I'm meant to do...or if I've done it...or if it's SINGULAR! Maybe there's a million wonderful things awaiting!! I don't know what to do or how to do it, but I feel on the verge of making a pretty huge leap. ...And I don't think I need to change my name or pose for Playboy to do it. (Oh, little Debbie, little Debbie!) ;)
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| Wacky indeed: Me, behind a pillow face at the Monchichi Gallery in Asakusa |
2:10 AM |
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