as I walk

the journey to becoming me

The Deep End

I don’t know how to swim.  I’ve had many people try to teach me (including a Special Olympics swim coach)… but I still can’t swim.  I’m getting closer each time though.  The last time one of my teens, Abi, really worked with me and I think had we been able to go to the pool a couple more times, I would have gotten it.  My problem is always the same- by the time I get back to trying to learn how to swim, I’ve lost my confidence and have grabbed onto a rather unhealthy fear of floating away into the deep end (even if it’s only 5ft).  It takes the majority of that first lesson to not feel terror- so I’m not learning anything other than “I’m not going to die”.   

I spent the last hour trying on every single piece of female clothing that I own.  The good news- I now know with certainty that I’m down to pre-college weight (which is one of the last times that I bought non-guy clothing).  The bad news- it scares me.  Chick clothing is scary.  Pockets in pants are smaller, shirts are all… weird… I feel… naked even while clothed.  I don’t know if I can do this.  Out of everything in my closet (and in my laundry hampers- don’t judge) I found one shirt and one pair of pants that I might be okay with.  I do have a much larger pile of clothes to give away than I did when I started.

I was kind of hoping that by the time I finished trying everything on, that I’d be okay with the clothes.  I’m not.  I spent about 2 hours looking around at clothes last night online.  What I discovered is that almost all of the few things that I did like had some variant of “boy cut”, “boyfriend”, “unisex” as a descriptor.  Oh, there was one shirt that I really really liked- it turned out to be a guy’s shirt.  The styles out there now… just… yech.  Maybe it’s because I’m plus sized so it’s older working woman clothing… but… dang… there’s some crappy looks out there.  

Part of me thinks that I need to force myself to wear at least 1 article of chick clothing a day while the rest of me is afraid I’ll float away and eventually drown.  Then that first side thinks that maybe if I get thrown into the deep end, I’ll finally learn how to swim.  I think I just want to be “there” so badly that I want to force it.  But if my hyper-drived reading of the Old Testament this year has taught me anything- it’s that God is the one in control.  I think back to the Israelites in the wilderness.  They couldn’t plow their way through to the Promised Land.  God was the one leading them- with a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire.  They camped when He didn’t move, they picked up and followed when He did.  Maybe I just need to figure out if He’s moving or standing still.  

I hate standing still though.  I constantly want to be moving on to the next lesson, the next step, the next piece of wisdom, the next chapter in the Bible… I’m afraid that if I camp out too long, that I won’t have the motivation to do the next thing, that I’ll never even get to where I’m going if I stop.  A pause can be okay every once in awhile, but much longer than that, it starts to eat at me… like I’m failing if I’m not moving forward.  Heck- I have “forward” tattooed on my arm.  

I know that it’s just clothing.  I read this yesterday Matthew 6:25&26  “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?”.  My brain knows that God doesn’t really care what I wear- He just wants me to be the person He created me to be.  My brain also knows that I’m not the person He created me to be yet.  That’s why I spent an hour changing clothes.  That’s why I want to move on to the next step.   


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