Do Not Read

I was never very good with people.

At this point in my life I’m rather famous for my biting, harsh nature. Most people are either afraid of me or annoyed by me. So I thought back to a day when I wasn’t so violently protective of myself. Especially since it isn’t any mystery that the harder people try to keep themselves secure, the less secure they are.

Recently I have encountered several people who have claimed to know my inner thoughts more than I know them myself. This has done nothing but frustrate me in a profound way.

I can’t argue with them. What would I say?

It’s not like I can just lay my real self out there…it has too many layers and years and struggles to work through in order to come to the surface. If a person wanted to know who I was they’d have to sign up for a summer lecture series on “101 Ways Rachel Is Misunderstood”.  And frankly, I am no longer charming enough to entice that kind of dedication.

Which brings me to my first point. I was told that I have been closing myself off from the world more and more. This irked me. Not because it wasn’t accurate, but because I have no desire to do otherwise. I don’t like the world! The world hurts.

When I was younger I could get by on my youth and passion alone. A forceful personality in a teenager who is traveling the world can be intriguing and exciting. Even people who didn’t particularly like me still couldn’t quite avoid the vortex that was my adventurous self. I was thinner, more beautiful, with fewer scars and more courage.

It’s similar to skin. Skin recovers quickly in youth, but as people age it can’t heal fast enough and begins to deteriorate. Ten years ago I could receive a blow and still feel like there was a way out of the valley. When my first love broke my heart I moved to New Zealand (Yes, New Zealand works wonders on broken hearts). When people wounded me I could cry and then recover.

But as time wore on I started to feel it more and more. At this point in my life I can no longer rely on youth and beauty and a compelling personality to cover my injuries.  As people became less forgiving of me, I became less kind and less hopeful. Now, instead of youth, I have wrinkles.

Instead of freedom, I have responsibilities.

Instead of a hoped for love story, I have an ex-husband who has used my baby girl to tie me to him for what feels like the rest of my life.

Instead of dreams, I have a need to survive.

Instead of people who support and encourage me like a spoiled youth, I have a broken family trying not to rip itself apart even further.

But the simple truth is that I have never been confused about who I am. I would love nothing more than to have a person truly know me better than I know myself…but other than God, it isn’t going to happen. I am extremely self-aware.

Sometimes people will speak to me in a way that shows how much they believe they have “seen through” my gruff exterior. I’ve rarely been offended by this, because the intent has always been kind (even if misguided).  But I have only ever had two experiences in my life when someone was able to pinpoint something in me that I had not already dug up.

This doesn’t mean that I have figured out how to fix any of it. My scars and personality flaws are many, and the ones I have successfully eradicated are extremely few. But I know my struggles, my sins, my flaws, my gifts, my strengths...all very well So when people take it upon themselves to disciple me into a better place I find it bittersweet.

When I was young I wanted everyone to be happy. I wanted everyone to tell the truth. I wanted to love everyone and I wanted everyone to love me. Turns out, not many people like a little girl who won’t stop talking. Last week I watched my daughter rush up to a stranger and try to give her a kiss and a hug. This young girl reached out and shoved her away. Mina just stood there with her lip quivering, unable to understand. My baby girl had gone with as much honesty, love, and openness that a person can go with, and had been forcibly rejected.

Mina is just like me.

I watch her and try not to be terrified. Terrified that with enough of those rejections she will build up a wall and shut people out.

Terrified that Mina will be just like me.