A few nights ago, I got a call from my son from his military base. Wanna know what was great?
He called me because he had a bad day.
A few nights ago, I got a call from my son from his military base. Wanna know what was great?
He called me because he had a bad day.
This week I’ve been noodling a lot on 5’2″ powerhouse Rachel Hollis. So you would have find me nestled in a (digital) pile of articles, photos, and from an author’s standpoint, a bit of healthy intimidation. This woman’s a machine.
Hollis is a brand manager, social media maven, and owner of several companies. Her book, Girl, Wash Your Face, sold over 800,000 copies in 2018, plopping it in the top ten books sold in America last year…and she just released another.
So I should probably tell you that generally (weirdly?) I do not go to the doctor when sick. I’ve taken kids for ear infections and all that, and certainly that time when my son’s staph infection on his jaw made him resemble Jay Leno (also weirdly. And yes, I remember writing about the importance of getting your kids’ behavioral diagnosis.
But still.)
Author’s note: If you missed these previous posts, you might grab them first for other overarching ideas on choosing vulnerability even when it’s hard–and being a safe place for others when they don’t have their act together.
My husband and I were headed out on a date night (can you hear the angel choirs singing? I needed it. As in, bad). It was admittedly last minute, to the point that my curly-turned-cotton-candy hair had been lassoed by a headband and fun-bun. But my kids would have food and it looked positive no one would burn anything down, so the big stuff was covered. Thus I sat in the passenger seat with my makeup bag, aka magic wand. I was just about through patting on concealer when my husband looked over at me.
In college, I answered a youth crisis hotline one night a week. So many who called in were so…raw. Or embarrassed. Or afraid.
There was something freeing, I think, calling someone anonymously; at finally being able to share the invisible bag of stones they carried around, its weight occasionally flopping over their foreheads and making it hard to see anything else.
My friend gazed at me through FaceTime, a kind smile on her face. “I just want to let you know that I just counted you saying the word ‘stupid’ six times when talking about yourself.”
Yikes.
She grinned. “I’m telling you this for your sanctification.” A little church-girl humor there. I thanked her.
I guess you could say that because of my story, which I shared last week–I’m pretty passionate about giving insecurity the boot. Maybe it’s much more so in parenting because I watch how my kids Xerox my values.
And I know how much it’s robbed from me.
I told you how insecurity—for far too long—was a giant, life-sucking Hoover in my marriage. It was as if I’d wrapped a leash around my neck, panting to be led by someone’s opinions. …Even complete strangers.
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