Just Real Quick…

14 Monday May 2012

Posted by Meagan Sean in Dirty Little...

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Real update coming soon. Prolly from a train.
You know, cus I commute.

Procrastination Station!

11 Saturday Feb 2012

Posted by Meagan Sean in Dirty Little..., Dirty's Reports

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Human Interest, Lies My Heart Tells Me, Nugget 'O Truth, Personal Update

I am procrastinating very well these days, thank you for asking. I seem to go through swings of being above everything in my room and absolutely unafraid of barreling forward and throwing things away! Packing things! Folding laundry! Cleaning! And then I swing back down low and cower at my desk or on my bed because I don’t want to touch anything. Ever. Again. I have found some pretty cool ways to not do anything productive though, including reading the bible, procrastinating writing on my blog, writing recipes on index cards, looking through magazines for recipes, scrolling through tumblr, playing with my hair and make-up, wearing interesting (that means a little more effort goes into them) outfits, drinking, watching Gossip Girl, watching Veronica Mars, learning how to do a Rubik’s Cube, making bracelets, and playing my guitar.

I’m not sure why I’m being so lazy, but I do know that it’s become a classic Tina Fey move of turning good news into anxiety. I look at everything I have to do and start to think about why I have to do it and start to think about what my life will be in less than a month and I start feeling that clutching claw of stress on my chest and I stop thinking about folding my laundry to make it go away.

In order to do something “productive” I decided to start reading what we’ll be diving into at church, Colossians. I read chapter one while I couldn’t sleep, because with anxiety comes insomnia, and a certain passage really caught my attention.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities–all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. – Colossians 1:15-17

I was so tired and I was so sad and I was so overwhelmed and I felt every part of the emotions that would give me the confirmation that I cannot do this, I cannot get my shit together and I cannot even pretend to be a grown up and I cannot wake up early and I cannot go to school and I cannot do this. And I read this, and that in him all things hold together. And I took a breath, and I bent my will and I gave up trying to do everything I cannot. I told God the truth, that if HE doesn’t hold me together I will fall apart, and that I need HIM to be holding me together now, and that now will continue for the rest of my life.

I love it when someone else can verbalize what I want to tell you.

14 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by Meagan Sean in Dirty Little...

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Other People's Work

“When I was a small kid, there were plenty of hugs. My parents are big on hugs. My father gives bear hugs, tight and quick. My mother usually puts her arms around your shoulders and bangs on your back, as if she’s trying to burp you. My friends and I always hugged. It wasn’t as if I’d never been hugged, as many of the Clients had not. But at the same time, physical contact has not come naturally to me. It seemed, and seems, laden with significance, so laden that one might like to avoid it altogether. One might, in fact, over a few years, begin to avoid it like the plague, begin to claim such absolute ownership over one’s own body that contact itself–the brush of a hand, even, let alone the startling number of emotional and physical nerve endings jangled by an embrace--begins to seem a threat…Hugs are difficult, however. Kissing is perhaps more intimate than sex itself. Similarly, hugs imply emotional, rather than sexual, intimacy. They are a gesture from one person to another of nonsexual caring, and the idea of being cared for in a nonsexual way was not something I could understand. Contact with another person reminds you that you are also a person, and implies that someone cares about you as such. This felt to me profoundly false, and I felt I did not, in any way, warrant such care, such contact. Contact with another body reminds you that you have a body, a fact you are trying very hard to forget.” (Wasted, Marya Hornbacher)

This is what I try to tell people that I feel like, but it’s been a long while since I have found this description and I have failed at being able to communicate.

Short and Sweet, like mini candy bars

17 Friday Dec 2010

Posted by Meagan Sean in Dirty Little...

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Memo

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever…” – Hebrews 6:19&20

I just found these verses and what I’m really geeking out about at this time is how it references hope. Hope is a weird word, it sounds airy when you say it out loud. There’s a reason that most people think of Emily Dickinson as having defined it (“Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops… at all”). It makes sense to the sound of the word, even to the spelling. It just feels like something that flies.
But here it is an anchor. Hope is described as firm and secure. What tha? Really? That’s a new way to think of it I guess… Now time for a legit definition:
Hope, noun 1. the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.
So hope, which requires believing in things that haven’t happened yet and by all accounts might not happen ever, is always described as something lofty and flighty. This makes sense because these days people consider the cynics to be most grounded, don’t they? If you expect the worst about everything people respect you, and if you hope for the best and get excited people think you’re a granola fruitcake.
But hope is supposed to be an anchor, a source of security and stability. Hope is not something that floats above our heads, it’s something that we attach to the promises we have in Christ.
If I were to look at my hope as something, I think I’d prefer it to be the anchor. I don’t like the idea of my hope being able to fly away from me when I need it most. For someone with sometimes tumultuous emotions, the idea that hope would hold me securely to Christ sounds too good to pass up, seeing as he’s the only one that doesn’t make fun of me when I get angry over something stupid or cry over a movie. I guess I think of hope as like my shoes, I can go anywhere in them. Strap them on and we’re good to go. Without them I’d feel unstable and lost.