The Stick of Self-Loathing

Similar to a jockey riding a race horse in the Kentucky Derby, whipping the horse's rump to make it perform better, I have found that self-loathing is the stick I use to beat myself when I fail. This is the stick I use to spur myself on to a better course of action, to a better performance.






"What a failure you are!"                                        "You are disgusting."

                          "You are so fat."                                                   "You are a hopeless disappointment."

"Geeze. Gross."                           "You're pathetic."


Words that I would never speak to a living soul, I breathe into my own heart.

And I didn't even realize that I was doing it.

Until now.


The truth is, self-loathing does motivate, but it does not do so for long. It can only motivate while I am beating myself with it mercilessly. Once the beating stops, so does the motivation. This sort of thought process slaps the face of my Creator, for it speaks lies and curses to the very core of who I am -- words that He would never speak to me or over me, words that He does not agree with. This is definitely not the life that He's told me is mine -- a life of freedom, beauty, light, health and love. The life of self-loathing is one of darkness, shame, guilt, and hatred -- and this is not what He chose for me. This is not why He suffered the cross. This is not His best for me.

I have just come to hear these words (that I have been speaking to myself my entire life) over the past few weeks. Like molten lava below the crust of my life, this destructive force begins to pour from below the surface whenever a failure of mine cracks the surface of my I've-got-it-together crust. And with it, this lava brings destruction and death.

A few recent incidents began to crack the hardened crust of my life, allowing this fiery hatred to pour forth into my consciousness.


I got my first speeding ticket EVER. (I'm thirty-five.)

I popped a tire on my van when I hit a curb from taking the corner too fast.

I gained a clothes-are-getting-too-tight amount of weight.



I began see words like "failure" and "disgusting" and "gross" and "horrendous" and "shameful" erupt into my mind. These words -- while so familiar -- were now discordant with the truth He has been revealing to my heart over the past months and years. "Where did these come from?" I wondered. Ah, sweetheart, He said, they have been there all along. But they have played well with the melody of your previous life -- that you were not loved, not good enough, not delighted in. Now that you know that this old melody is not your true heart's song, these curses you have spoken over yourself for years in order to perform better -- these don't sound right with the new melody I've given you, do they?

In His grace, the Lord has chosen now as the time for me to begin to face some of my self-loathing. He has chosen now as the time to begin the process of healing and freedom. He has chosen now to begin to re-train my thinking and to breathe His truth into my thinking about myself.

And He used my recent failings so that He could bring this to my attention.

You see, as long as I am "succeeding" at controlling myself and my environment -- as long as there are no "cracks" in the crust of my life -- the self-loathing just simmers deeply below the surface. There is no need to pull out my "beating stick" because I'm doing all right. But when I fail . . . well, watch out. Here comes the lava which I will quickly fashion into a stick. And here we go again with the beating.

But I'm at a loss. If beating myself into the right course of action is not how I'm supposed to respond to failure in order to bring about change, then what in the world is this process supposed to look? God doesn't want me to over-eat, to get speeding tickets, to continue to replace tires. Does He?

I know that success cannot be a "willful success" -- one that I achieve by myself, by my extremely heroic efforts, by my sheer will-power. I've seen all to clearly that such "success" does not last. It is the self-help epidemic with a nice cloak of prayer-y Christianity, but it is still all flesh. It is still a program doomed for failure, as all self-help programs are. Truly, if I believe that my flesh has been crucified with Christ, then any sort of self-improvement project is nothing more than dressing up a corpse, putting on some makeup and perfume and fancy clothes -- but perfume can't cover up that stench for long, and  soon my failure resurfaces. And so does my self-loathing, bubbling up from below. And out come the stick. And here we go again.

My true success is not "success" at all -- a better word for it is freedom. And freedom doesn't come through control. It only comes when I release control, when I agree that my best efforts are are not going to cut it and that they are, in fact, sin -- that they are willful attempts to fix what I cannot fix, to control what I cannot control, to heal what I cannot heal. These efforts are once again trusting in me -- a fallen and impotent god.



I'd never seen this before. I guess I thought that I was helping Him by handling what I deemed "the small stuff" -- like my eating and driving habits.

But I can't even control those.


Sheesh.


As the Lord has been revealing the fierce and scalding lava of self-loathing in me, my response has been two-fold. Ironically, my first response was . . . that's right -- self-loathing. I really wanted to pull out my stick and beat myself for failing again. But He gently removed that stick from my hand and did not allow me to use it on myself. And so I was just left with sorrow -- a deep-seated grief that I have been hating so fiercely a girl that He loves and delights in so desperately. How it must stab His heart each time I curse myself and speak lies to motivate myself.

And yet up until this point in time, I knew no other way. I had no other options. As a scared little girl who greatly feared disapproval, I did the best I could to avoid it. Sweet little Courtney knew "performing better" as the only way to escape the painful  disapproval that came with failure.

But little Courtney does not deserve to be hated, too. She needs to be embraced as much as grown-up Courtney needs to be embraced.

And so, together, we walk toward Him -- the One who loves us deeply, with all our wounds and fears and pain. We see Him with His arms open, a smile on His face and love in His eyes. As we reach Him, He embraces us fully, speaking words of grace and healing. I am able to thank sweet, little Courtney for doing the best she could with what she had. I embrace her. And in that embrace, a new freedom is born -- one that is born of love, not fear. Behind us, He drives a cross into the ground, and then He takes our hands and walks us away from this point. No more.

I no longer need the stick of self-loathing to motivate better performance. The curses I have spoken in the past are no longer needed. The cross dealt with the sin. From here forward, I am free. Will the lies, curses, and self-loathing still surface? Sure. Right now, they are still habit. But you can bet He's going to be pretty quick to point them out. And then I can ask that He replace them with His words of truth.

My freedom comes when I admit the truth that I am out of control, that I'm scared and fearful, that I don't know how to change without self-loathing. My freedom comes when I confess that I have tried to fix myself and that I have failed miserably.

My freedom comes when I invite Him into my mess, when I ask for His light to shine in the darkness of this area of self-loathing that has been bubbling viciously below the surface of my life.  My freedom comes in dragging this from the darkness and into the light.


My freedom comes in that I will be walking this area, too, with Him.

True freedom. It's not the absence of failure. True freedom is walking each moment, my hand in His, believing the truth He speaks about me and about Himself. This is true freedom.



And this is why He came.



Oh, my Love, walk me toward freedom and emotional health in this area, too. Thank you for loving me fully, for delighting in me completely amidst my mess. Thank you for getting me to this place of seeing my sin. Let's walk forward from here.

Royal Wedding through the Heart

"Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort that is."
- Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

 I have been unable to get this quote out of my mind for the last few days as I have been drinking in -- okay, maybe guzzling -- all forms of media coverage of the Royal Wedding of William and Kate.

Did anyone else notice that Prince William wore exactly what the Handsome Prince is wearing at his wedding in Cinderella? The fairy tale has truly come to life right before my eyes.

And my heart rejoices.


As I sat on my couch with a huge, goofy grin on my face, I realized that this wedding was doing something internally that no other wedding I have watched has ever done. Something inside of my chest was being released, was being reborn. Every so often, something, some event, awakens this in me. I needed to press in, to find what this was.

As the excitement settled to the bottom of the glass of my mind, I could see my thoughts and feelings a bit more clearly. What was remaining in this glass was the deep-seated knowledge that I was created for something more, something not "common" by any definition. My heart had found a bit of home, a bit of comfort, a bit of affirmation in watching the Royal Wedding.

For a few minutes of the hours of spectacle, my husband watched with me. (He actually did not change the channel during one of the wedding replay specials.) I was more than a little intrigued . . . my sports-loving, explosion-addicted, shoot-up-the-bad-guys husband was actually watching the Royal Wedding willingly.

So, I had to ask him. What does watching this stir in you? What is going on internally as you watch this? His answer resonated with my own, but from the male perspective. What gripped him was the pomp, the tradition, the regalia, the formality, the honor of the soldiers, the history apparent, the duty that was called forth on an occasion such as this.

Both he and I found the innate knowledge of "something more" called forth in us as we watched.

But of course this would rise up in me, and indeed should rise up in me. It is truly woven into the very fabric of who I am, woven there by the One who made me, placed there so that I would thirst for Him. He actually tells us that He has "placed eternity in [our] hearts. (Ecclesiastes 3:11) In the truest sense, this -- this wedding of a commoner to a prince, this rise from nobody to somebody, this calling forth of beauty, this honor, this regalia -- this is what I was made for.

When He speaks of me in His Word, He says things like,

My darling, you are lovely in every way . . . You are a royal crown of beauty in My hand . . . I delight in you . . . I rejoice over you . . .I celebrate and sing because of you . . . You shine like the sun . . . I, the King, desire your beauty . . . you are all glorious within . . . I have sought you out . . . You are clothed in the finest fabric, bright and clean . . . wrapped in it . . .Nothing can separate you from my love . . . I have fought for you and won . . . You are mine and no one can take you from me.*

But I have several friends who have really struggled with this event. They have spat out words like "dumb" and "stupid" and "waste of money."

It makes my heart sad to hear them say things like this, not so much because it dampens my joy but because such a strong negative reaction tells me that there are wounds somewhere in each of these women and men that have never been healed -- a lie spoken to them that has killed this part of their heart. They have been told somewhere along the line (either by a person they respect or by their own disappointed heart) that there is nothing "more," that fairy tales do not come true, and that it is silly to believe that sort of thing. But I can tell by the energy of their reactions that these false beliefs create a dissonance in their souls. And well they should.

There is a reason that every culture around the globe has royalty (and when their is void -- as in America -- the culture creates their own version of royalty, i.e. our Hollywood A-listers). There is a reason that we, as humans, feel the need to look up to someone, to admire beauty, to long for the happy ending, to thrill at the sense of the heroic, of doing one's duty.

These things were written into our very beings. They call us to Him.

Will I receive a royal crown on earth? No. Did  I marry into a royal family? No. But I have already begun to taste a bit of what I will receive when I finally meet my Love face-to-face, and it is far better than anything this earth can possibly come up with. Oh, to see the love in His eyes! I just can't wait for that moment.

But for now, I can rejoice fully in the "tastes" of heaven that I get here on earth. I can delight in the beauty, in the fairy tale, in the honor and call to something more. I can let my heart swell with the joy of the event. I can allow it to create a desire, a yearning, a thirst. And then I can turn to Him and tell Him how excited I am for our day to come . . .

And what a comfort that is to remember here in my common world.



* Song of Solomon 4:7, Isaiah 62:3-5, Zephaniah 3:17, Psalm 34:5, Psalm 45:11 , 13, Isaiah 62:12,  Revelation 19:8, Isaiah61:10, Romans 8:39, John 19:30, John 10:28-29

Royal Wedding through the Eyes

My heart has been brimming with delight the last few days because of this event. I truly haven't been able to sort out all of my thoughts, but they are settling into two distinct camps -- what delighted my eyes and what delighted my heart. More on the latter is to come. For now I will pour out what delighted my eyes . . .and what just plain made me laugh . . . or cringe.

There were so many things right about this event by way of beauty and adornment, that I experienced a bit of sensory overload. Usually (as with the Oscars) there are plenty of "misses" and only a handful of "hits." With the Royal Wedding, I found it to be reversed. But the misses were there, and they made me smile.

Top of my Missed the Mark list are the Princesses Eugenie and Beatrice. Sigh.

Holy Tornado, Batman.

Let me just say that I love hats. I wear them. I delight in them. I think that fascinators (small, usually clip-on hat/hairpieces) are beautiful and can be worn with great style (see Princess Kate, left), but bless these girls hearts, they just took a giant misstep into the land of the ugly stepsisters. Seriously, a canoe hat and a funnel cake hat? For the Royal Wedding? Yikes. And don't get me started on Princess Eugenie's dress. I'll just point out that this is the wrong silhouette for her frame. 'nuff said.

Another one to make my Missed the Mark list is Princess Anne. Possibly she was aiming for "light spring bouquet," but I think that she came off looking like a crazy mix of the Mad Hatter and the Wicked Witch of the West.

Truth be told, I love the colors, I love the coat, I love the hat, I love the shoes, but these things just didn't play well together, and with her up-do, they started an all-out war.

It is a sad Miss because it was within inches of being a Hit.

Next up is Tara Palmer-Tomkinson wearing an electric blue costume by Debra Miller. The dress is a beautiful design with the high collar, sweeping sleeves and form-fitting silhouette. The heels are gorgeous with their sling-backs and peep-toes. The hat is definitely a statement, but her figure is long and lean enough to carry it off.

The Miss came in with the color. I know that British fashion is different from American fashion -- a bit more zany and extravagant over the ocean, they are. But regardless of that, I really struggle with any woman who comes decked out to a wedding in such at way that it competes with the bride in an obvious way.

Ms. Palmer-Tomkinson did just that. Electric blue does not rejoice, "I celebrate with you!" It screams, "Has anyone noticed that I look like a Smurf from head to toe?!?!"

And last on my Missed the Mark list is the Prime Minister's wife -- Samantha Cameron, wearing a Burberry London dress. The dress is "Meh." It just doesn't do anything for her, and it looks more like a dress to be worn to the office and less like a dress for the Royal Wedding.

The real reason she so clearly misses the mark is that she is missing a very important piece of her ensemble. Who attends a wedding in London -- or anywhere in England, for that matter -- without a hat? And this was not just any wedding, but the Royal Wedding.

I'm fairly ignorant of British politics, but I sincerely hope that this was not a planned snub of the monarchy. There is a time for politics and for making statements, but weddings are not those times. The entire statement of the outfit is, "Oh, a wedding? We're going to a wedding? Eh, well, I guess this will do."

I will assume the best of her. This was not a snub of the monarchy. This was just a complete lack of fashion sense and decorum. Well, at least her shoes look good.




Enough of the Missed the Mark List. On to my favorites --

The woman whose hat captivated me is Sophie Winkleman. And it wasn't just her hat, but her entire ensemble (Giorgio Armani). Her hat (designed by the hat designer of Britain, Philip Treacy) is a perfectly balanced blend of decor and function. It breeds the ole' straw sun hat with art. By sliding the hat off-center and balancing it with a modern twist on a flower, Treacy makes a gorgeous statement.

Wisely, Ms. Winlkeman wore her hair up and allowed her beautiful pearl earrings to stand out against her dark coif and navy hat and dress. Nude-coral lipstick accents her full lips without making them compete with her hat for attention. I offer a hearty well-done for this look!

As to the royal family, I applaud the Queen for her daring foray into the land of yellow (not a traditional color for the Queen to wear). Her suit (designed by Angela Kelly) is sweetly modern for  her with its tucks around the neck, and her diamond brooch -- Queen Mary's True Lovers Knot -- is an endearing nod on her part to the young couple. I would have loved a bit more curve and sweep for her hat (it comes off looking a bit starched next to her modern-ish suit), but I think that overall it works well for her position and age. She's just so cute! Not sure I can say that about the Queen of England . . .





And then there is Princess Kate . . .

Much has been said about Princess Kate's dress. As soon as I saw it, my mind starting searching its archives for where I had seen its inspiration. While I don't know exactly where Alexander McQueen's designer Sarah Burton found her inspiration, I would like to think it was Princess Grace's dress. I've long loved Princess Grace, and now Princess Kate has worked her way into my heart with her choice of this dress. (Well, okay, she's also dear to my heart because of her endearing smile and general fashion savvy -- oh, and she's a brunette princess!)

While I love the high neck that Princess Grace wore, I like the v-neck that Princess Kate chose. The V of her dress elongates her neck and creates a very regal look for her. And I do love Princess Kate's dark hair being worn down -- a beautiful contrast to her veil and the white lace on her shoulders.

Confession:
I'm a bit ashamed to say that Pippa Middleton's gown kept distracting me from Princess Kate's. I love the wedding dress, but Pippa's gown was magnificent and she wore it elegantly. Her lithe frame is the perfect form upon which to drape this Alexander McQueen creation. From the loose, capped sleeves to the draped cowl, from the row of buttons down the back to the slight train, I am in love with the dress. Wow. And being white, I love it even more. Instead of being some sort of gaudy addendum to the brides' train, she was a soft completion of it as she carried and straightened it.

And my surprise-to-me favorite look from the Royal Wedding comes from a very unlikely source -- Princess Ameerah of Saudi wearing a custom-made Zuhair Murad. From the hat to the shoes, I love this look on her. The nude color is absolutely stunning against her dark skin and jet-black hair -- and she picked the right nude for her skin-tone with just a blush of pink to it. I love that she swept her hair over her shoulder like a luxurious mink stole. Her diamond earrings stand out against the palate of nudes with just the right sparkle. The fitted bodice of the dress flairs into a soft ruffle of lace a the bottom . . . gorgeous.

And can I just say that it's classic that her husband has a cell phone stuck to his ear at the Royal Wedding. Apparently men the world over are in love with their phones.

Side Note: Is the Princess of Saudi allowed to go into public "uncovered" like this?

There were a few more Misses (Posh Spice with stripper shoes) and Hits (Letizia, Princess of Asturias, in her simple and delicate blush-colored dress by Felipe Varela), but these were my very favorites. Sigh. Such a delight to my eyes! More to come on what delighted my heart . .