Playing Outside

It's funny the little things in life that define us. Big moments like a wedding, a birth, or a death change everything but it seems funny that life just goes on as usual. Then there are the small things, a word, a gesture, an occurrence, that seem to redefine our thinking.

One time I went to Southern Utah with Dad. I was standing on a rock over looking Arches National Park when this calm, knowing feeling swept over me. In that moment, I knew exactly who I was and I wanted to cling to it so badly. The thing is, it's a fleeting feeling, but somehow it does take hold of us and move us in the right direction.

The same thing happened over the weekend when we went four wheeling. Being outside, away from the noise and hustle of the city is so freeing. Doing something fun and, for me at least, adventurous got me in touch with a side of myself that's been aching to get out. Watching this really cute, built guy ride a four wheeler like he's a little kid playing in the dirt but so strong looking and taking care of me and making sure I'm alright like a man and realizing he's my husband... it was kind of like stepping into my life and seeing it just as it is. Like you live life and get caught up in seeing it from your eyes looking out. Then this moment comes along and you get to step back and see a real picture of it but you also finally get to experience all the details that go by on a day to day basis.

When we were four wheeling, a couple times when we stopped, Jeff told me I had dirt on my face. I saw a smudge or two on his and said so do you. When we got back to his mom's house and I went in the bathroom, my face was black- like I'd put something sticky on my face and put it in a big pile of dirt. I had gross little gobs of dirt caked in the corners of my eyes. I looked HORRIBLE! When I came out, I said, now you've seen me look like the dirt monster, I hope you can still love me. Later he said if he wanted me to look pretty, he wouldn't of had me follow. In those two moments, I realized that he will love me, even if he sees me looking bad. And, it's the moments you share that are more important, more binding than looking pretty for him all the time. I know those things, but they were actualized in those moments.

All my blogs, all my journal entries since I was twelve, are about this search for myself. Like I know who I am, but getting it out in real life seems so hard. But these little experiences give me just one quick moment of knowing. And then they linger, drawing me toward something, giving me some peace of mind and assurance.

I get afraid too easily. I see myself and know who I am and what I am about and it feels like maybe it's different than what other people see or expect of me and I'm afraid to change. Lately I've realized that a lot of my fears come down to being afraid of confrontation. And by confrontation I mean asserting myself, asking questions, dealing with people being mad at me or misunderstanding me or not knowing me. Living feels like a confrontation to me. If I have these defining moments of knowing myself and I try to follow through and live that, I'm going to have to confront the world- even if it is just the little one I live in- and that scares me. It's easier to just go on with what people expect. Except, of course, in the week following these moments when that side that aches to come out has had a breath and rekindles the fire of hope and I feel that burning inside of me.

And what am I going to change? What big, destroy everyone's world or at least their expectations of me things am I going to do? I don't know. I really like that gray t-shirt of Jeff's that he gave me with the bulldog on a motorcycle (or something like that) on the back. I might wear that all weekend every weekend. I might get Jeff to take us fourwheeling once in a while. I might change in some of my "hippy" clothes for something a little less soft for the office- just so I can feel more assertive. I might not worry so much about how someone else is going to feel when it comes to making decisions about my job/career. I might just say, sorry and thank you but this is what I'm doing. Not try to explain away every thought and feeling I have trying to make theirs all better. I might not worry too much about old friends and not talking to them often. I might do my hair less or maybe more, but more simply.