Tag Archives: soul searching

Looking into the Mirror

Ever had a moment when you write while feeling angry or agitated and you fortunately don’t publish what you wrote that day? It’s been two days since I began writing this blog entry, but I left it alone since I didn’t feel like I was ready to push “publish” yet. For one, I didn’t want to send something out there I might regret. I knew I needed to let it settle and see if I felt the same way later on. I am glad I did. There are some things I wrote that I still feel the same I did when I started writing, but there were other things I had a change of heart about.

I had a rough day one day. It made me wake up and realize a lot of things about me and the world I live in. There were also some hard “tough love” truth that I have learned about myself.

It was a day when I was dealt with a blow of disappointment of having something not happen in the way I had hoped. I ranted to my husband, “Why? Is there something wrong with me?” in an email to vent out my angry and hurt feelings. I won’t go into the details of what happened, but it was enough to make me wonder why it seemed like I couldn’t really connect with people like I hoped to. My husband tells me, “It would be better that we talk about this when I come home.” For once, I didn’t push it. After 15 years of marriage, I knew my husband knew me well enough to  not email me a response to my question. I am glad he did. When he came home, he calmly shared with me some things some people have shared with him in the past.

“Some of your old friends came and told me that they are sometimes afraid to approach you because of how you appear.”

What?! I was pretty stunned to hear/see him say that. (He signs and speaks to me when we talk.)

He explained a little further, “They have told me that you always look like you’re angry or upset about something, so they don’t approach you. It’s something about the look on your face.”

Apparently, I have a natural resting-scowl-face.  There is another phrase for this, but I won’t go that far to call myself that. My mother did mention that I did have a Mary-Queen-of-Scots look when I was little… Guess it’s still true.

I even posted a picture on Instagram to ask my followers what they thought. I just noticed a funny thing – Out of the 12 people who liked the picture, 4 only responded. One responded, “Yeah, I can see what you mean, but since I know you, I don’t notice it.” So, I guess people liked my picture, and there are some honest friends who tell the truth, even when it’s hard.

Could it be that this face of mine is intimidating people away from me? It is possible. I’ve had countless times when people would talk to me and say, “oh, lets get together!”  Either it be a coffee date, going for a hike, or something like that, and it wouldn’t happen. At first, I thought that was not my fault, but after a few days of letting my emotions rest and to think on it, it might be partially true. If I really wanted to meet up for coffee, I have to not be afraid to ask… again. I’m an introvert, and that’s like asking me to walk the tightrope!  The risk is facing rejection, them saying “No”,  and I admit that my skin isn’t as tough as I wish it would be. I have to learn to be okay with it.

My face may not be the only reason that some people feel intimidated by me. My deafness could be challenge a hearing person would feel overwhelmed with.  I have seen some people approach me nervously when they find out that I am Deaf. I explain to them, “I do wear hearing aids and can lipread.” Sometimes I wish I could just say, “I may be Deaf, but I don’t bite!” I am a very patient person, unless I am dealing with a very prejudiced person.

Back to the conversation with my husband – He went on to say, “You can’t help it. That’s who you are.”

True, my scowling face doesn’t define who I am. It’s just another part of me, just like my lazy partially blind eye and the hearing aids in my ears. I am sure there is a way to soften the way I look and present myself myself better. Sometimes I think to myself, “At my age, I would think I would know how by now!” It just proves you never stop learning. The one thing I refuse to do is to lose the real me in the journey of becoming what God wants for me.

It makes me even more thankful for those who look past this Mary,-Queen-of-Scots face of mine, my quirkiness, me being introverted,  and love me nonetheless.




I was driving along listening to my new Daughtry album that I had picked out. I had never heard him, other than on American Idol a few years back. The title grabbed me. “Break the Spell” For some reason I thought it might be a good listen, and I’m glad to say I was right.

The first song grabbed me, and I LOVED it. Renegade just got to me in my core. The words really resonated with some of the things that I had been feeling inside for a long time.

“Don’t you wanna feel like a rebel?
Renegade on the run?
Real live wire in the cross fire ridin’ shotgun

Not talkin’ ’bout a deal with the Devil
I said nothin’ about sellin’ your soul
Call it what you will
If you start to feel out of control…”

I had always felt like I was the odd one out… Born to be a rebel, you might say.

I grew up in a church that was legalistic about their faith. Scared the crap out of me a lot. I have a lot of issues because of growing up in that church. I can remember being in youth group and listening to the pastor rant on about how we are to be leaders for God… IN other words, be pastors and pastor’s wives for Him. I don’t know if everyone got that message, but I sure got that from them. “Oh, you weren’t allowed to be deaf and blind in one eye for nothing! You will save souls when God heals you.” Did He heal me? Um. No. I’m still blind in one eye and deaf, though I am probably more Hard of Hearing than Deaf. My right ear is pretty deaf though, but I can hear enough to be able to wear hearing aids to help me make it in this hearing world. When I went off to college, which was a pretty “rebellious” thing in their mind. God forbid I go 2000 miles away from home to go to a college that is fit for me! “She’ll stray from her faith. She needs to be within our churches.” To find out they had had such little faith in me really made me question them, but I was scared to even say or do anything. I was supposed to be such a good girl.

Then my world got turned upside down in 2000. A drunk driver decided to do just that. It was a miracle that I survived, and I don’t discount that. Going home and standing in front of my church, after just flying home from saying goodbye to a grandmother who wanted to see me before she passed, was weird for me. I was still recovering from the injuries of the accident as it had been just two months since then. “Oh praise God! He can use this to save souls.” Sure… He can, but really, I just got hammered from a stupid guy who decided to get drunk and that’s all you can think about! That was my thinking then. I was so angry and confused about it all. I also felt so isolated and tired of being so singled out like that. They saw the surface but not the inside. I was tired of being seen as this poor girl who has had the bitter end of the barrel. I wanted to scream.

That following year I got a tattoo. Oh. Yes. My first rebellious move.

I went home for a wedding I was in. Someone from my old church saw it and called me out on it. “Oh, so you’ve become a Heathen, eh?” That put the nail in the coffin. I was not going to return to that church again.

But I loved God more than just turning my back on him, though I admit I did have my time when I was angry and didn’t want to do anything with him. When you get to that point, it’s lonelier and hard. With some help of friends, I found my way back.

I fell in love with a Catholic and eventually became engaged to him. Oh, did my old church scream. I got a nasty letter from someone from there and I burned it. It was full of condemnation. I was basically damned to hell. Nice. A christian doing that? I wonder what Jesus would have said to that. I’ll let God deal with that… I had already promised my husband that I wouldn’t judge them. He knew how hurt I was as it was from someone I had admired growing up.

I became a Catholic. My family was upset from that decision. I thought I was doing the right thing as I was tired of the judgmental attitude I was getting from everyone else at the old church I was going to. It took me four long years of practicing it to make me realize that it was just as bad as my old church in how legalistic it was, if not, worse.

I decided to find a different church, and went with a friend to hers. I loved it for how embracing the people were. I needed a community as I had just moved into a new state in the past year with no luck in finding a place to plug into. On top of that I was with a two year old and a brand new infant. My husband was also not practicing Catholicism as well, so that really made me feel alone in a faith I did not grow up into like he did. I was at this new church for just a little over five years until things unraveled in my life. A lot of things had happened in those five years and recently it all just became too overwhelming. I look back and realize that my rebel nature didn’t fit in with that church at all. I didn’t do things the way they did it. I spoke up about certain things that I felt were wrong, and nothing changed. I don’t think I was ever really taken seriously.

“One-hundred miles an hour with the top rolled down
Racin’ the wind breakin’ out this town
Tryin’ to get lost but don’t want to be found, yeah”

I am still the rebel. I am tired of being the weak one. I do struggle with depression, and I know that might be why they don’t take me seriously. With all that I’ve put up with in some people, I do want to escape sometimes. I want to be where I am accepted and not judged. I don’t want to be put in a cookie cutter shape anymore, and I’m hoping as I move on in life I will find more people who will accept this rebel/free spirit person – Tattoos and all. (Yes, it’s more than one now)

As for a church, I have recently found a church that I hope will work for me. They rock… Literally. I know God made me to be this way for a reason, and I want to be the

“REBEL with a CAUSE,

and its HIM.”

And if God wills it… When the kids are older, there might be a motorcycle for me to ride around, let the wind whip in my face, and let me escape for a little while. That will make this Renegade happy.