Monday, July 25, 2016


spent the night tossing and turning, and ended up waking up and staying up at 5:30am. Those who know me know how bizarre this is. Generally I'm approaching 5:30 from the opposite side of our 24 hours. But right now, I'm wide awake and sitting on the beach, tired of trying to pound my pillow and my thoughts into submission. Sometimes the best way to overcome that tiredness is to give up on sleep. 

I'm in an Ugly place right now. It's not really anyone's fault. It's just my reception and perception of outside circumstances. It's my own deep seated Ugly bubbling up from those places that I have to ask myself if I'll ever fully clean out, no matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I attempt to "take every thought captive". 
The thing is- and sadly- the enemy (that's Christianese for THE DEVIL, although I don't know why I couldn't just say that in the first place since now I've spent more time explaining myself) is Ugly. He's insidious and gross and unfortunately I tend to give him access to my weakest places. The open attacks, the dive bombs, those are fairly easy to resist. 
It's that stupid, Ugly, challenging little two fingered push to the shoulder, while he rocks back on his heels with a smug grin on his face knowing he's touched that pressure point, that are so hard for me to cope with. Those heavy, twining tendrils of doubt that weave their way up from that Ugly place in me, choking out my confidence, my hard won sense of self, that leave me weak and gasping. Those existential crises that leave me staring at the ceiling in the wee sma's. It's his whispered little taunts of, "Who are you? Who do you think you are? You're nothing more than that girl who's hidden in corners and in everyone's shadow for your entire life. You're weak. You're worthless." 

Because when it comes to those moments, I have to force myself to fight them and convince myself it's not true. And I'm so tired. The Ugly is easier, it's more in line with what I've conditioned myself to believe. Default.
All me. All me and that little devil on my shoulder, who 95% of the time wouldn't dare show its face. But that 5% can undo it all. In the space of a few minutes. 

Why does it work that way? Why are we, as humans in general, so quick to believe that Ugly 5% instead of stand firm on whatever is good, whatever is lovely? Is this just me? Granted, self deprecation is one of my standard fallbacks. But self deprecation and self loathing are completely different things. Self deprecation comes from a place that doesn't process compliments and praise well. Self loathing... Well, we all know what that is. It's Ugly. It's heavy. And it's a lie from the ugly one himself, although knowing that and being able to shake it off are two separate things. 

I promise I'll write about happier things soon. Our summer has not been spent with me rocking back and forth in a corner while I let the Ugly press on me like a cloak. The only reasons I write out the Ugly is because it's cathartic, I figure there are very few people who actually read my blogs, and I assume those few wrestle with their own brand of Ugly. 
I almost wrote, "We can be Ugly together." But no. I don't want the Ugly, I refuse to own it, and I don't want the Ugly for you, either. When that smug, infuriating two fingered shove makes you stumble, shove back. Better yet, do it with two hands, ten fingers, and all the worthiness that comes from the One who denounces your Ugly and calls it Lovely. The one who denounces that capital U and draws a red line through that title and calls it for what it is: an ugly little lie that was proven untrue when the red lines were still wet and fresh. I choose whatever is True. I choose whatever is Right. 

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