laid bare

as i begin writing this post, i can't help but wonder, as i often have, about the thin line between writing in stark complete honesty and writing censor-bly. (pun intended, for lack of a better expression.)

Will my stark complete honesty, which by the way, will reveal (ugly) facets of me that people seldom see, stumble my younger readers (such as those in my cg) or will it encourage them to know that i too am human and need to be real about my feelings and struggles?

i've tried to answer this question for a long long time and i haven't come to a comfortable solution. i feel like sometimes i ask too much, try too hard and fear too much. where do i draw the line between self-revelation and self-censorship? will my being real here, in this public space, endanger my readers? endanger me perhaps?

i'd always prided myself on daring to be vulnerable, to be real, to be transparent with people. i always tell people who share their struggles with me i appreciate their boldness in being vulnerable, for their willingness to be honest with me. honestly and truly, i do appreciate those of you who do. it means more to me than you can imagine. however, i feel as if i myself am beginning to lose this boldness. i've begun to close up, for fear that my honesty might stumble another or perhaps more deeply, that it may threaten my self-image... perhaps i'm tired, tired of trying to explain myself, tired of struggling even...

perhaps its my fear that your (nice?) image of emily will be shredded to pieces and replaced by a very broken picture of ugliness. but this really begs the question: was your image of emily even 'nice' to begin with? haha...that is something only you can answer.

these questions come because...

i feel broken.
i spent the earlier half of the day battling not with my work, but with my thoughts, my insecurities, fears and frustrations.

i felt so overwhelmed yesterday after church, and that gave way to a seige of thoughts and surge of tears. felt like i wasn't doing a good job as a cg leader, felt like i wasn't connecting. felt like i was approaching things the wrong way, then felt frustrated for being too concerned about the 'right' way. on top of that, i was battling with old issues of insecurity, all-too-familiar feelings of un-surrender (you know how you surrender something to God, then you take it back?) and crushed hope.

i could not wait to get home, lock myself in my room, sit on my bed and cry. i went home in a half-daze, waiting for the tears to flow again. after dinner, i climbed into bed. i cried out to God, bombarded Him with questions of why, and pleading with Him to take away my fears and un-surrendered issues. i was a little girl in my room. and as little girls do, i cried myself to sleep.

at 1.30am, i awoke, after a nightmare, to realise my contact lenses were still in my eyes. i stumbled to get them out, set my alarm then went back to the bed. i tried to digest Psalm 46, yet the heaviness of my mind could not settle on the words. i slept, hoping i would wake up to a brighter morning having slept my troubles away. it didn't work this time.

the troubles did not go away, but i woke up sober-er.
i spoke with God, asked for forgiveness, surrendered. something lifted, yet the sun did not shine in still.

in the quiet of lunch hour, i poured out my soul to Him again.
there, God comforted me, renewed my strength as i came before the foot of the cross. He reminded me He is my one true enduring Hope, and that His purposes are good beyond my understanding and expectations.

i thank God He knows me inside-out, and takes me as i am.
no pretense, no acts, no masks.
just a tear-stained face, a string of questions, and a broken spirit.


so there. laid bare.
may not seem emily-ish to some perhaps. but for those who know me well, all this is what makes emily who she really is.