And it felt suffocating.
I shut my mouth. Quieted down. Stuffed all the words.
Because I didn't like how it felt to be the lone voice. I recoiled from my truth because I was afraid.
I swallowed down my own voice.
And it felt safer for awhile.
I zipped it up. Simmered down. Pushed aside all the feelings.
Because I was afraid. I didn't want to stand out, rock the boat or cause a scene.
I swallowed down my own voice.
And rage sprang up.
I shushed my opinion. Faltered in conviction. Settled on complacency in lieu of courage or contentment.
Because I believed my perspective might hurt someone else's feelings.
Or perhaps more truthfully, I feared my truth might cause someone to like me less.
There is a peace that flows from righteous efforts of self-control. From purposefully resisting the urge to speak when silence is more powerful. There is a peace that flows from minimizing self, to lift up another and glorify a holy God. There is a contentment that follows holding back when of this the Spirit asks.
This peace and contentment stand in stark contrast to what happens when we silence ourselves from a place of fear. When we swallow down our voice- the voice God has gifted, because we are afraid of what people might think of us. Nothing is more damaging to a soul than shutting down truth in the name of self-preservation.
Yesterday I sat paralyzed in a hair salon, of all places. (Thank you Lord for training grounds which humble.) I had just turned to look in the mirror to see my finished 'do. It wasn't what I wanted. Not like the picture in my head, or the picture I had showed her. But I couldn't bring myself to really say it. So I swallowed down my own voice and violently held back tears of disappointment.
I didn't think once about the principle of the matter, or what an empowered woman might do. I didn't think about the right thing to do, instead I focused on the easiest thing. I didn't think once of my girls at home. I thought about myself and how I didn't want to cause a scene. I didn't think about my now little, but some day grown women and how I want to be a model for them. How I want to live in a way as to show them what it means to feel free and safe to use their voice.
I didn't think about any of this until I was wide awake at 2 am, fully regretting my lack of hair cut courage. And lamenting (berating myself for) spending so much money just to pretend I was okay with something I honestly was not okay with.
Then, in true grace form, it was just before dawn when it dawned on me.
This isn't just about the hair. Hair grows back.
This tossing and turning was about more. In examining how and why I held my own voice today at the salon, I realized I have been schooling my girls to swallow their voice too. The very thing I hate doing myself, I have been not-so-covertly asking them to do. And I have been asking in the name of my own selfish comfort. Every time I plead with my girls in exasperation to "Please stop crying," "Suck it up Buttercup," or the one liner I employed earlier this week, "I can't even with all your feelings today!" I send them a hidden yet very poignant message. A message this world is fond of sending women especially: your feelings are bad and if your feelings make me uncomfortable they are even worse.
When I shush their feelings, I strip them of the power their feelings hold.
I consistently fail to hold space for their feelings because right now their feelings come out loud, noisy, whiny and constantly. In short their feelings are really hard to listen to right now and often leave me feeling both exhausted and inadequate. (Mommas, can I getta Amen?!) When I ask, or rather command them to stop what they are feeling- I am essentially asking them to swallow down their voice mostly because I don't like how their voice makes my life more difficult. I am teaching them to silence their truth to preserve a facade of peace. Or rather, my ease. Not so different than swallowing my feelings at a salon to avoid creating more work for someone or risking being seen as "difficult."
But someone else's ease is an awful reason to silence our feelings. If only because it doesn't work. At some point, this tactic will inevitably backfire. I have experienced this first hand. Over and over again.
I don't want a pretend peaceful life and I don't want an easy life, free of things that are hard. I want, for myself and my girls true peace. Peace that comes even in the fire, peace that accompanies scary and hard. Peace that flows from a place of freedom. Freedom to be who we were created to be. Because I know, deep down, freedom in telling our truth comes when we realize our feelings are ours. Ours to feel, identify, manage, move into, out of and through. Our feelings are a gift from a Creator who knew feelings add color, depth and dimension to life. Our feelings cannot make or break us- any more than our feelings must control us. Turning feelings on and off to avoid discomfort is both disingenuous and dangerous. Manufacturing feelings to please another will only exhaust and empty. It is a like living a lie.
Yet somewhere along the line, early in life I missed this memo. I got the idea that my feelings were bad. That my feelings were too powerful, too much, too out of control- so I learned to master my feelings. I learned to "turn on" the feelings I thought were appropriate and "turn off" the feelings I thought made people uncomfortable. I learned how to swallow my voice. My voice, the very thing God gave to help process, share and express the feelings which were meant to be felt, not bottled up.
When I think of this I am reminded of all the ways those feelings came out when I stopped using my voice to express them.. sex, striving, disordered eating, people pleasing, alcohol, obsession with appearance... but these were simply tools to alter mood. Never once did they help release my feelings. Not one single time. Rather, they simply added more feelings in need of bottling.
Feelings unexpressed long enough will always, always, always lead to rage. Usually rage of the self-loathing variety. This is why last night I found myself wide awake at 2 am. Internally raging at myself. Some say rage is a fear response, I also believe rage is a byproduct of powerlessness. I rendered myself without power when I restricted my voice. Rage came out in the form of self-loathing as I couldn't believe I didn't muster the courage to speak up with conviction. I played over and over in my head what I could have and should have done or said differently.
On the couch in the morning dark, sipping tea, wishing for sleep to come I sorted through all the feelings of the day and I was transported back to the young girl I once was, the girl who would do anything to keep the peace and ensure she was liked. The girl who would rather kill her feelings than acknowledge a hurt. The girl I thought I no longer was. Yet, over a highlight job gone amiss, I was reminded part of that girl still lingers. Possibly more of her than I realize. Maybe she will always be with me. Lord knows.
But just because old habits linger, doesn't mean growth hasn't happened- or that I don't have a new normal these days. Because I do. I am not that scared girl all the time any more. Maybe this is why I felt so disappointed in myself. Regardless, I feel like I have been given an opportunity with my baby girls to start anew. To live out a new way of truth telling, one that honors feelings and embraces them as gift. I want desperately for my girls to only have one way of being: fully themselves- with all the hard feelings included.
I know it starts with me, right now. It starts with me, their momma holding space for them, giving name to and walking with them through their feelings which will come, go, linger, surprise and sometimes overwhelm for the rest of their life. It is my job to teach them now, ever so gently what to do with these feelings, how to feel them, listen to them, honor them. We won't be Buttercup girls who simply suck it up, we will be girls who feel it and be free. Free to use our voice to speak our truth no matter the cost.
If I am going to raise girls who change the world, there is no shame in beginning with the basics- like asking for what we really want at the salon... because it is never just about the hair, but good hair has never hurt anyone either. And we have to start somewhere, right?
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