Ghosts in my Head

To take off from the last post… I went away and thought about it.

As I’m (finally) embracing my life-long dream of becoming an image consultant, suddenly I don’t feel a need to read books about finding yourself.  (Still reading books about going places and the wilderness).

D’you guys have any idea the amount of guilt I have laid on myself for taking up such a frivolous occupation as image consultant?

Let’s ignore the intellectual response, that I’m very good at what I (will) do, and that image consulting gives me an opportunity to meet and spend time with more people, which means I’ll have more opportunities to be Christ to more lives.  That there’s nothing intrinsically sinful about image consulting.  That this is my gift, and that beauty is important.  My spiritual gifts are counsel and exhortation… are you kidding me?  This is so right up my alley it’s not even funny.  I am going to bless people’s socks off.  (God willing.  🙂 )

Let’s talk viscera, and guilt.  I can find introspection in a bowl of soup, and I can find guilt in birdsong.   I swallow shoulds for breakfast.

I have always wanted to have a stereotypical crunchy Christian life.   Had I had the opportunity, I would have dived in.  And oh, my dear readers… I would have been a self-righteous piece of work if I’d been allowed to be.   The blockades to my fantasy life have come over and over and over.  And I feel guilty for letting the side down.  For letting “them” down, like there’s some committee somewhere that tells you what “real Christian women” ought to be doing with themselves.

I like digging and making compost piles and singing off key and dressing modestly and not worrying about my skin care regime.    I make a darn fine apple pie, too, and yes – I can render fat and operate a meat grinder and do basic wound care (I turn a bit green, but I can do it).   Obviously, I can sew.

But that’s not my life.  Not my opportunity.  And I need to let that go, finally and totally.  Yeah, maybe my husband will get a job someday in Idaho (or Tennessee 😉 )but probably not.   Maybe someday we’ll retire there.  But retirement is a long, long time away, and it’s time for me to move into being a different kind of helpmeet for my husband.  The kind, btw, that he’d always planned for me to be… now that our kids are older.  (While I’m addressing the Imaginary Greek Chorus, please note that I was told that we’d have two kids while we were still in HS, so you may take my fertility up with my husband, not me).

You know, it’s not evil to want to bless my husband’s socks off by bringing in some cash…

Beating myself up because the Greek chorus of “shoulds” in the back of my head doesn’t think that being an image consultant in SoCal is explicitly “Christian” enough is a waste of my energy and of whatever years God has given me on this earth.  I’m being a poor steward, and allowing condemnation the place of conviction.

So help me out – if any of  you want to tell me this is unScriptural, say it out loud and proud so I don’t have to look behind my back.  I’m pretty sure what’s back there is just ghosts… but if I’m wrong, come ’round where I can see you, okay?  😀  (I know I’m silly.  This is usually where my husband pats me on my head and tells me that I’m a gooood gurururl).

Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets to tell me how to live my life but God and my husband.  Maybe it’s time I listened to myself when I say that… instead of listening to the ghosts in my head.

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8 thoughts on “Ghosts in my Head

  1. Jenny

    I think you make an awesome image consultant. Wish you lived closer so we could go shopping together.

    Reply
  2. Elspeth

    Girl…I texted you pictures of myself from fitting rooms to get your take. Are you kidding me? Of course you’re a great image consultant. Like Jenny, I just wish this dang continent wasn’t dividing us so we could shop in person.

    I like what you said about the ghosts. I have those too, and I also have a husband who wants a wife who is something of a mover and a shaker. Not in the same way as yours of course. I am just (finally, truly) getting to a place where I am motivated to pray about exactly what that looks like.

    Great post, Hearth.

    Reply
  3. Eavan

    One of the definite blessings of being older (being past the crazy ovulation years) is the nonsense women burden each other with becomes “meh.” You’re not there yet, but take hope – it will become reality. Meanwhile, you can practice “meh”. 😀

    “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might……” Ecclesiastes 9:10

    Reply
  4. Elspeth

    @ Eavan:

    I’m 44, and the biggest burdens are the ones I put on myself. I went through a short (VERY short) phase where my foray into the Christian mommysphere had me questioning some of the stuff women burden other women with but my man quickly put a halt to that.

    But the ghosts? The vision in my head of where I would be at 40-ish (a vision formed before I gave birth at 35 and 37 respectively)? It dogged me even though common sense dictated that adding 2 more children to the fold would mean the postponement of my dreams of 40-year-old grandeur.

    But either way, “Meh”. Or at the very least…permission to grieve the dream and do what I am doing now with all my might.

    Reply
  5. Stingray

    This world needs more beauty in it, Hearth. We allowed so much of it to be removed. We thrive on beauty. Don’t discount adding more to the world, ever.

    Reply

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