The Monologues…

 

Recently, I attended the Vagina Monologues with a group of girl friends. The place was packed, sold out actually, it was pretty incredible. For those of you who are not familiar with the Monologues, they are a collection of stories presented in a play like form and all about the Vagina. The purpose of the Monologues is to raise awareness and stop violence against women and girls. According to the United Nations, one of every three women on the planet will be physically or sexually abused in her lifetime.That is a frightening statistic. The stories vacillated from comical to devastating, as did my emotions. I laughed and cried my way through the hour and half.

The performances were over the top, in your face and very uncomfortable at times. But I was determined to be mature. I refused to squirm in my seat as one woman acted out an orgasim scene. So I just squirmed inside. But that was the whole point. To bring the Vagina and the stigma associated with it out into the open. To demystify what has been so secret and shameful. They did a great job.

Vagina can be a hard word for people to say. Honestly, it has only been in the past few months that I have been able to use it more freely in conversation. It’s like a dirty word, for a dirty part of a woman’s body. I find it easier and more comfortable to talk about Vaginas in an a general, global sense. The minute I write or say, “My Vagina” I fell very self conscious. It’s like I let the cat out of the bag and now everyone knows that have one. So I may as well confess right here, right now that I do indeed have a vagina and I bring it with me wherever I go… sort of a package deal. Honestly, I think it should be a word that everyone has to say at least 3 times a day. This way, people can become more comfortable talking about vaginas and then maybe real, honest conversations can happen (we should probably include the word penis too but we will stay away from clitoris for now… baby steps).

As I sat there that night, something began to break inside of me. I began to realize how many negative feelings and thoughts I have about my own vagina and sexuality. That it is something shameful and dirty. These thoughts are more subconscious than overt. The funny thing with subconscious thoughts, when you recognize them, you can see them for what they are. Then you can decide if they are true. And these thoughts, they are the farthest thing from the truth. My vagina is not dirty nor is my sexuality. It was like my eyes were opened for the first time and I just sat there soaking in the truth, letting it wash over me. I felt like God met me in that theater, in that quiet space and spoke to me. He spoke of love and compassion, of acceptance, of tender healing that is to come. It was an amazing night. A life changing night. And I will never be the same.

 

For more information about the Vagina Monologues and V-Day visit http://www.vday.org/mission

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Sexuality….

A women’s sexuality is an interesting thing. A Christian woman’s sexuality is even more interesting. It is a part of a person that is rarely nurtured or given adequate attention to. We go to school to nurture our minds, the gym to nurture our bodies, and church to nurture our spirits. But our sexuality is often left to develop, all on its’ own, in a haphazard sort of way. As I reflect on my own sexuality, I feel a deep sadness at the lack of attention given to it. I feel angry too. Angry about things people have said and done that have had a negative impact on how I view myself, my body and my sexuality. This topic is too vast to be explore in just one blog post…. So, hang on to your hats ‘cause the next few blogs are going to be dedicated to Sex and Sexuality.

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That Still Small Voice….

I am a people pleaser.I hate the thought of disappointing people.Not having people’s approval is difficult for me.Consequently, I have let people walk all over on me. I have lacked the ability to confidently stand up for myself.

I have had a hard time making decisions for myself. Always wanting to know what others’ thought I should do.So afraid of making a mistake.So afraid of disappointing others…of disappointing God.I doubt my own thoughts, intuition and experiences.I have allowed people to treat me poorly and take advantage of my generosity.To my own detriment, have I allowed spiritual leaders to manipulate and control me, all in the name of God.I have been silenced, minimized, shamed and blamed.I’m tired of it. I have had enough.

Something amazing happened over this past year.I found my voice.A still small voice, buried inside myself.And it is pissed off.Pissed off at how I have been treated.Pissed off at being silenced.But mostly, pissed off at myself, for letting it all happen. The truth is, I couldn’t have stopped it.I didn’t know how.No one every taught me.So, I am learning now.Learning how to speak up for myself, instead of owning someone else’s bad behavior. Learning to value my thoughts and opinions. Learning to trust my intuition.And realizing I don’t have to justify my decisions to anyone. It is very freeing.

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Scars and Wounds

Growing up can be hard. It can leave a person with a lot of scars. Physical, Sexual, Emotional. As I venture into the deeper parts of me, the scars are becoming more apparent. Although, I don’t know if I would call them scars. They’re more like wounds. A scar is something we’re left with, after a wound has healed. It tells a story. It reminds us of something we made it through. Something painful, something traumatic. Wounds are not like that. They are fresh, raw, open. They leave us exposed. They require a tender, gentle, understanding touch. Yeah, I have wounds….

Now, they say that time heals all wounds. That has not been my experience. Some of my wounds are 35 years old. I have been able to push them down really deep. Cover them with a ton of bandages. But underneath, they are there still wounds. Fresh, raw, open.

Some of the wounds I have from childhood are related to my femininity and sexuality. The two are so interconnected, it is hard to separate them. For my entire adult life, I have struggled with these issues and the process is slow going. As I unravel the bandages and expose what is underneath, Jesus has tenderly put salve on my wounds and healing has begun. Someday, these wounds will become scars. Beautiful Scars…

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Healing &Wholeness

The other day, I was reading about a woman in the Bible who had suffered greatly. She had been bleeding for years, 16 to be exact. She had spent every penny she had on doctors, in hopes of being healed. It never happened. And now she was desperate. This is where Jesus enters the picture. He was surrounded by a crowd but she made her way to him, unnoticed. She thought that if only she could touch his robe, she would be healed. She did and she was. Healed. When Jesus figured out all that had happened he said to her, “You took a risk in trusting me and now you are healed and whole…”. Healed and whole… those words bring tears to my eyes. I long to be healed and made whole. I guess that is what this blog is all about….my journey in taking a risk to find healing and wholeness. There are things I have buried down deep. Really deep and the thought of digging them up and talking about them scares me to death. Terrifies me actually. But I don’t know any other way for healing to begin. The time has come and although it feels risky, I am going to take His hand and walk into the recesses of me. He wants to heal me and make me whole but only if I am ready. I am.

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