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So, I’m taking time to do this.
I’ll be back soon.
XO, EE.
]]>So, I’m taking time to do this.
I’ll be back soon.
XO, EE.
I’m pretty weepy today. It’s not just one thing, really. It’s sorta everything. For one thing, my doctor found a new, suspicious lump in my right breast. You know what’s weird? It’s not so much the prospect of cancer that scares me, it’s the needing to be peaceful and normal for the kids while I wait for my appointment. It’s the wondering: what if?
I have a significant family history of breast cancer. It’s the kind of family history that freaks out every single OB/GYN I’ve ever had and makes them scribble off frantic orders for ultrasounds, mammograms, genetic counseling. At this point, breast cancer just feels like a matter of time. Each year I dodge the cancer bullet I can’t help thinking it’s just a temporary reprieve.
So, today is my appointment and I’m just sorta over this whole thing. Can’t we just skip to the part where I start chemo and lose my hair already? Because I’d really like to check Breast Cancer off my bucket list and move on with things.
Then again, no I don’t. I would far rather this was not happening at all.
I told my mom–a breast cancer survivor, herself–about my appointment today. I said: “You know, cancer wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
She chuckled, agreeing. “You know, cancer wasn’t as hard for me as going through the breakup of our old church.”
“Really?”
“Well, sure. What’s the worst that can happen with cancer? I’d die and go to Heaven and all my earthly sorrows would be over!”
Huh.
I’d never thought of it like that.
But maybe she’s right. Maybe surviving fundamentalism is a lot harder than surviving cancer? I guess that makes sense. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen to me if I have breast cancer? The surgeon lobs off my boobs and gives me a brand new set? Not such a bad deal, really. Can’t be worse than totally overhauling my life and rewiring my brain after surviving a cult. Right?
Maybe right.
Speaking of rewiring my brain, I started ADD meds last week. I was supposed to start them like three weeks ago, but I spent almost two weeks avoiding it. I filled the prescription and everything, but I just let the bottle sit on my counter for awhile. Waited for the stars to align. One Saturday morning I went in the backyard, looked up at the sky and said: “God, give me the strength to take this pill.” Then I swallowed it. Then I lay down on the floor and waited to die.
I’m not kidding. That is literally what happened. Life just isn’t worth living if it’s not melodramatic, am I right?
Oddly enough, I didn’t die. Instead, I started feeling better. Like, really better. So better, in fact, that I got up and cleaned my bedroom. Then I cleaned the living room–without ONCE getting distracted or procrastinating.
That’s when I thought a bad word: Shit is real.
It’s been about a week now. I can’t really believe ADD meds work this well. Is it really OK to feel this good? Is this what normal feels like? I am not accustomed to my brain feeling normal. I am accustomed to my brain feeling stressed out from the struggle of keeping up with every day life. I am accustomed to my brain galloping in twenty different directions and exhausting me with all its distractions.
After watching me go through this whole ADD-diagnosis, my mom and I had a major breakthrough. She called me and said: “Honey, all these years I’ve been missing this piece of the puzzle. I finally feel like I truly understand you. I just wanted to thank you for sharing with me.”
Aaaaand wow. My mother finally understands me? Excuse me while I break down sobbing. All I can say is: I’m so profoundly grateful for a second chance with my mom. I’m glad the cult didn’t win on that.
Which brings me back to cancer. If I can survive a cult, figure out my personality, get help for my ADD brain and experience new breakthroughs in my relationships, then maybe I’m strong enough to hear whatever diagnosis I hear today.
One thing’s for sure: I’m going to cry about it. Because even on meds, I’m still me. And me cries. That’s just what me do.
ENFPs are a very rare personality type. This is a good thing! Nothing would ever get done if most of us were flitting around chasing butterflies and picking flowers! However, ENFPs are also frequently misunderstood. We are called lazy, slobby, commitment-phobes. We are accused of procrastining, daydreaming and “wasting our time” on things that don’t matter (read: things that don’t make money).
While hurtful, sometimes these accusations are founded in truth and this is why we ENFPs need to be honest with ourselves. Sometimes I don’t like what I see when I look at myself through another person’s eyes.
And I want to become the whole, complete version of the person God made me to be. That means looking at my “dark side,” examining my blind-spots and making an effort to improve those weak areas.
So, the first lesson in becoming a well-rounded ENFP: choose your drama. Try not to exhaust everyone with the random drama you just picked up from the cashier at the store. ENFPs catch communicable emotional diseases and we purge ourselves by barfing all the gory details out to someone else. Sometimes this is fine, sometimes it’s exhausting to other people. So, choose your drama. Or, at least, choose your timing–it’s OK to release all the pent up drama, just understand that right in the middle of the workday is not the best time to interrupt your friends with all the bloody unburdening of your heart.
Secondly, you are far more amusing and charming when people don’t have to pick up after you. So, pick up after yourself. At the very least, find out the ONE area that your significant other needs to be clean and just do that ONE area. Believe me, your ENFP charm is much more winning when your spouse can see you’ve made some kind of effort. In other words, it’s understandable that you’re not as tidy as other personality types but you make life unnecessarily difficult for other people by not even trying to do your fair share of the daily, mundane tasks.
Thirdly, sometimes you need to think your way through an issue. I know! I know! BUZZKILL. Thinking through an issue is particularly hard for an ENFP when we’d much rather feel! emote! and express our passion! But there are moments in life when making a rational, logical decision is actually better for our emotional well-being. So, think before you act. (p.s. after you think, check in with your deeply attuned emotional sensors. if something still feels off, sleep on it. You’ll know what to do in the morning).
Fourthly, the grass is not greener on the other side of the fence. It only looks greener. In reality, it’s just another shade of brown. Or maybe it’s astro-turf! The point is, ENFPs sometimes get distracted by all the seemingly limitless options. We can spend our entire lives flitting after endless possibilities. But to become a well-rounded, mature ENFP, we need to limit our options.
Better yet, we need to foster appreciation for what we have right now. We need to cultivate the grass on our side of the fence. Plant flowers! Decorate with garden gnomes! The magical part of this is that the more we appreciate what we already have, the more beautiful it becomes to us. ENFPs are wonderfully gifted with making every experience richer, deeper and fuller. Just imagine the glories of focusing all that life-enhancement energy on one or two things! So, ENFPs need to limit our options in order to expand our creative power.
Fifth, limiting our options is also important when it comes to romantic relationships. ENFPs fall in love with everyone. We are inspired by countless potential mates. However, we can easily become bored. Or, if betrayed, we may shut down and become cold, unfeeling, unresponsive. ENFPs really need someone who wins their admiration and respect. ENFPs work very hard at enriching and enhancing their relationships–and all that energy is best channeled toward a mate they admire, honor and deeply respect.
I am married to my polar opposite (an ISTJ)–but I can honestly say that while we’ve had to work hard at resolving our many personality differences, I have always deeply admired and respected my husband.
HINT! The best way to find someone you admire is through shared values. The keys to long-term romantic love for an ENFP are common goals, inspiring sense of purpose and loyalty to a few, deeply-held core values. This may be surprising since a single ENFP is not known for adhering to tradition–but in a relationship, an ENFP truly admires a personality who is dependable, faithful and lives with integrity. These qualities inspire ENFPs to sustain long-term relationships.
For myself, I know I could never marry another ENFP. Familiarity would breed contempt. I would know the other ENFP too well and it would get under my skin, annoying me. Then I would lose respect and that would be the death knell of our relationship. Also, would the bills ever get paid on time?
However, sharing a friendship with another ENFP is a delightfully exquisite experience because we really “get” each other. I sincerely cherish my friendships with other ENFPs because we can easily get on the same emotional wave-length with each other–even over the phone. When two ENFPs share their feelings with each other, a beautiful, deep friendship can blossom. Even if we rarely see each other, we always remember how that other person made us feel. ENFPs create “sparks” between each other and that connection is never lost.
Note of caution, here: friendships between ENFPs can be horrifically heartbreaking if something goes wrong. An ENFP really knows how to hurt another ENFP, especially because the very foundation of their friendship is based on emotional vulnerability. If the friendship needs to separate, ENFPs should always try to talk things out. ENFPs should do everything in their power to separate amicably. Otherwise, bad endings and hurt feelings can cripple an ENFP for a very long time.
Lastly, acknowledge your shortcomings honestly and openly. Apologize when you offend. Make amends when you’ve hurt someone. Above all, never give up. ENFPs are a very rare personality type but the world really needs us! We make life worth living.
The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift. –Albert Einstein
And every summer my kids beg. Plead. Cajole.
“Mommy! Pleeeeeease! Please come swim with us!”
Every summer I have a “Good Reason” why I can’t.
Or won’t.
Or will not.
Usually it comes down to this: I don’t want to put on a swimsuit.
Because I’ve seen the magazine pictures and I don’t look anything like that.
And I’ve been schooled in all the modesty swimming rules.
And you know what?
All of that kept me out of the water, away from having fun.
I’ve been robbed!
So, I’ve decided to love the way I look!
This summer?
Things gonna be different.
#1. I’m going to love my Mommy Body. Oh, look! This is me singing “I loooove my Mommy body!!!!”
#2. I’m going to put on the swimsuit. I WILL take these pictures and I won’t retouch them, airbrush them or CLIP MYSELF OUT of our family summer photos. Instead, I will celebrate the real me!
#3. No tan. No makeup. Just me unashamed. Unapologetic. Having fun and loving life! Because my kids deserve that!
#4. My kids don’t care what I look like, they just want me to GET.IN.THE.POOL. Well, OK then!
#5. It’s time, Mommy. Put on the suit. Get in the pool.
LOVE YOUR MOMMY BODY.
#LoveYourMommyBody
#GetInThePoolMom
OK, Mommies. If I can get in my swimsuit with no makeup, no tan and yeah, NO DIETING before this spontaneous photo shoot (and then post the pics on my blog!)–YOU can at least get in the pool with your kids this summer!
Who’s with me?? Go blog it! Tweet it! Let’s #LoveYourMommyBody!
Welcome to THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST!
I’m your hostess, Elizabeth Esther.
This is where bloggers gather on the first Saturday of the month
to share their latest and greatest posts.
Today we’re sharing our favorite post from April 2012!
I’ll begin by sharing mine. I chose What ENFPs Think About All Day because I’ve become so fascinated with understanding and appreciating various personality types. I Understanding my own personality AND my husband’s personality has led me into a deeper, more loving relationship with him–and he with me. On the personality spectrum, we are about as far apart as two people can be. But despite our polar-opposite personalities, we have come to honor and appreciate our differences. I can’t wait to write more about personality types!
Now, it’s your turn! Here’s how to participate!
THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST is a family-friendly celebration of life, art and writing. Please post accordingly. Thank you!
I’ve been out of fundamentalism for almost 10 years but I’m horrified–HORRIFIED–to discover that the systematized oppression of my childhood is as large and powerful as an entire university. I simply had no idea.
It’s like waking up from a nightmare only to realize your nightmare is actually real. At least now I know where my grandmother got her training: BJU. It’s all starting to make sense.
Some of the dissenting comments on my recent BJU posts have suggested that despite the rules, BJU isn’t that bad and people can go on to live healthy, successful lives after graduating. Yes, OK. We all agree that human beings can survive ugly situations. And some of them even go on to live successful, happy, fulfilled lives.
But that proves NOTHING. I find that argument absolutely hollow. It’s like the argument some people use for spanking: I was spanked as a kid and I turned out fine!
For those of us who were spanked until our “will was broken,” we turned out fine IN SPITE of the thousands of spankings–not BECAUSE we were spanked. There’s a huge difference.
Yes, I survived my childhood cult. Yes, I’ve gone on to live a fairly successful life. But I can tell you right now that it has felt like CLAWING my way out of a pit. I was messaging with a family member recently who told me the same thing: sometimes we are just absolutely blindsided by pain from our shared pasts. It never, ever, ever goes away. You just learn different coping mechanisms.
When you are raised in a fundamentalist environment, it’s like your body and soul are branded with hot iron. What BJU has created is a system of learned helplessness. Did you notice that almost every single action requires prior approval? And even after approval, you are required to check in and check out. On top of that, other people are checking on you. Reporting on you.
I remember that well. That was precisely how my fundamentalist church operated. What happens when you live like this is that you never develop your own decision-making skills.
You’re constantly seeking prior approval for everything. After awhile, you can’t LIVE without permission. You begin to panic when faced with a decision–how will you ever make this decision without approval/permission from the “God-given authorities” in your life?!
One of the things I had to work on in therapy was not apologizing for everything and also not feeling compelled to explain everything I did. I had been raised to believe every decision Reverberated Through Eternity! and so I was always ready with “Biblical reasons” for ANY decision I made. It was like I couldn’t do something without a Bible verse to back it up.
And even then, I agonized over whether I had made a decision “outside of God’s will.” I doubted myself and second-guessed myself all the time. Basically, I didn’t know how to be an adult outside of the religious rule system. Like BJU, the rules in my church were so focused on the minutia of my external behavior that I believed that’s what God cared about, too.
It was like: as long as I kept my hair naturally colored, neat and feminine I could leave all the big decisions to God! I didn’t have to make decisions about whom I’d marry or whether I’d get a job after college. I just needed to keep my hemlines low and my necklines high.
When the pain hits, I focus on what is very good in my life right now. I have five wonderful, healthy children. I have a steady, faithfully loving husband. I focus, focus, focus on those things until the darkness ebbs and my mind stops howling.
But does the fact that I’ve gone on to live a good life after fundamentalism mean I’d want my kids to grow up that way? Over.my.dead.body.
I can only hope that this latest incident with Chris Peterman will break open the culture of secrecy and oppression.
The rules are so complicated and so insanely specific that I had to read some of them like five times just to figure out what was “appropriate” and “not appropriate.” BJU’s rules are oddly worded (as if trying to hide the fact that it’s a huge list of Thou Shalt Nots?)–ie. wearing a jacket over a sleeveless IS appropriate. But what that rule really means is that wearing a sleeveless shirt by itself is forbidden.
This is fundamentalism at its finest/scariest.
Here are some highlights from the Dress Code and Disciplinary System in BJU’s Student Handbook:
Related Posts:
BJU Senior Expelled for Protesting BJU Board Member Who Covered Up Rape
How do you spell draconian? BJU.
What’s ironic about all this is that the BJU Mission Statement claims the university “exists to grow Christlike character.” (page 3, BJU 2011 Student Handbook). But after reading through the entire student handbook, I can’t help but wonder if BJU defines “Christlike character” as legalistic, rigid, punitive and cruel.
I was shocked by how extensively BJU exerts high-demand control over its students—all under the auspices of “discipleship toward Christlikeness.” At least, that’s what Stephen Jones, President of Bob Jones University, writes in his letter to the students (preface to BJU Student Handbook): “[BJU is] obligated to you to do everything we can for your physical protection and personal purity, growth and discipleship…we want to give you a handbook that will help you develop discernment and earn more responsibility and privileges over time.”
Ok, hold up. Let’s decode what President Jones is REALLY saying: “BJU is usurping total and final authority over every area of your life because that’s what God wants us to do. Once you sign the student covenant, you surrender all your God-given rights to us. We slowly let you earn them back as you demonstrate behavior in accordance with our highly-specific rules.”
President Jones goes on to write that “while externals are not our focus, we do need to recognize that externals do communicate and therefore need to be addressed on some level.”
Externals are NOT the focus? That’s laughable. After reading through BJU’s exhaustive list of rules, externals ARE the PRIMARY focus and are addressed on EVERY level.
A a fairly common response from those defending BJU’s recent actions against Chris Peterman is that if you choose to attend BJU, then you have to follow BJU’s rules.
I think that argument only goes so far. If the rule setters are creating punitive, cruel and draconian rule systems, then they are unjustly wielding authority.
By subjecting their students to highly-controlled, rigid requirements, BJU unfairly binds the free-will and conscience of those under their authority.
So, let’s take a look at some of the rules in the BJU Student Handbook and ask ourselves: do these rules fit with President Jones’ stated objectives, mainly that they exist to grow “Christlike character” and are NOT about external controls? Are these rules a breach of student privacy? Are these rules reasonable?
Because, quite honestly, I can only think of one description for the BJU demerit system: DRACONIAN.
I mean, these rules are written for adult, university students–old enough to die for their country but not old enough to stay out past…10:25pm!
Here are some real rules from the 2011 BJU Student Handbook [my comments are in brackets]:
Phew! I’m exhausted! And we haven’t even gotten to Dress Codes and Disciplinary System yet! I guess we’ll have to save that craziness for tomorrow.
HINT: NO BIRKENSTOCKS!
I wanted to give my kids some kind of foundation—some method/rubric/structure for relating to God. So, despite the fact that I was ready to fly the religious coop, I agreed with my husband that we should give our children a foundation to build on. If they later decided to tweak it or wholesale abandon it, at least I’d done my duty. I’d pointed the way. Thus we embarked on our journey through the museum of American Christianity. We came into contact with a plethora of Christian lifeforms, observed many of them in their native church habitats….[read the rest of my guest post for Rachel Held Evans here].