There's this popular teaching concerning marriage called Love And Respect: The Love She Needs. The Respect He Deserves. I can barely type the title because something about it sticks in my craw.
Being that life has endeavored to place me in the "damaged non-perishable items bin" more than a few times, I freely submit that my irritation could be due entirely to something gone horribly wrong in my psyche. I am not quite ready to repent, however, until I've investigated it a little more.
In addition, I haven't read the entire book, so my theory on the teaching admittedly could be very wrong, and this entire blog entry nulled and voided. I have done the "Barnes & Noble Skim" a couple of times, watched the online videos, subscribed to the page, and read some of the related articles. The premise seems to be that men require the respect of their wives, and women need the love of their husbands. Valid, upon first perusal. What I have noticed in the videos, however, is a lot of instruction directed towards women respecting men. Not a whole lot of direction geared toward the men. That kind of bugged me. I know we have some big attitude issues within womankind, but according to this series, the female seems to be the only gender needing serious course correction.
Maybe I have an overabundance of testosterone in my body, but when it comes to Love for the Female vs. Respect for the Male, my question has always been, "What's the bless-ed difference?" It's a semantic bump in the carpeting we've been tripping over for decades. This is just me, but I don't see Love and Respect as separate entities, and to say that they are is to not understand the all-encompassing nature of Covenant Love. I know that the sexes do process and interpret events within life and relatonships differently, but I guess my beef is with the language being used. I am, after all, a daughter of the Aretha Franklin "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" funky war cry generation. So telling me here in the 21st century that respect in marriage is not a priority for a woman feels myopic. I think, no matter what the century, respect has always mattered to us, and we women have gone to some incredible and often questionable lengths to gain it.
Don't mistake me: I can be a girly-girl. I love to be romanced. I don't like finding out my favorite lip liner is sold out. I am searching for new ways to dispatch unwanted facial hair. I watch the wedding shows and cry along when the "yes" is said for the dress, and the personally written vows are read. Despite all the archetypical behaviors, I am also a moderately intelligent woman, and proud of it. Googly doves' eyes are all well and good, but I also find a man who likes to actually talk with me an extreme turn-on. Maybe some of this stems from me not ever feeling like the sought-after beauty that a lot of men seemed to want (painful disclosure). So when a man might not only find me outwardly attractive, but genuinely regards my viewpoint as important, or laughs at my jokes, or says "You do have a point there," I feel respected and therefore loved. When I feel like I matter in that way...LOOK OUT, BABY! I've got your back for life! In fact, most of the fantastic women I know do have more substantial things on their minds than just kitchen cleansers and the holiday sale at Sephora. We can and do intellectually multi-task.
Here's the thing. I've noticed, beyond my limited experience of this teaching, that there are certain men who expect for women to do all the heavy lifting with regards to respect. Problem is, a lot of these men are either wrongly taught, or somewhere down the line had something negatively affect their perspective on ALL WOMEN (it may not have even involved a woman). They may desire to marry (or perhaps they seek it because of societal/cultural expectations), but at the core they really don't like women. Now let me be clear: I'm not talking about sexual orientation issues here. I'm talking about damaged heterosexual men who see women at best as noncompliant, and at worst as the enemy...and firmly hold this mindset while seeking companionship, and even marrying. They show it in the way they interact with women. Public humilation is a cast-iron guarantee. Private shaming is a sure thing. Subservience, not godly submission, is the superobjective. Keep the scales tipped in favor of safeguarding the exposure of their fragile self-concept. Then I promise you: that same man will come around later and ask the woman they subjugated for sex.
If you are a man having tremendous issues with trusting females, do yourself and us women a favor: stay away from us. Get healing. Get clarity. Don't make your dysfunction some unsuspecting woman's problem, and then when she recoils or protests, vigorously complain that all women are disrespectful. We are not. Don't generalize. Every woman you meet is not a carbon copy of the women who messed you up in the past. Don't spiritually justify your distain. Nothing in the rightly divided Word supports abuse. Don't procreate. Grow large plants. Buy a prize-winning schnauzer. God's got this "be fruitful and multiply" thing covered with healthier folk who are not going to perpetuate the nonsense.
I have to believe that there are still women out there who would go out of their way to honor a man who is healthy and free from negative mindsets-or at least one who is walking in that direction-with no need for application of excessive force. I believe because, despite the intense work I still need to do on myself, I hope to be one. These are the women not easily plied with wine, gifts, and pillow talk if, at the end of the day, you don't see them as useful for much more than eye candy and/or bodily warmth. When a man disregards a healthy woman's need to be respected, and therefore loved, he should be prepared to never see his desire for true respect, and therefore love, realized in this lifetime.
Like I said...I am still working on it.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Thing About Writing: Overcoming Neurobiology, Creating Adrenaline and Finding Self-Discipline
After almost a year...I'm back on the blog scene.
Even now, as I attempt to put font to screen, I feel "the block."
It is so much easier to lean back on the bed and surf for some channel with some sitcom I've seen enough times to not only quote the dialogue, but to place bets on what episode will air before the opening credits are done. This is a most unimpressive feat I've disciplined myself to accomplish, day after day...for decades.
This very second, I want to stop what I'm doing and grab a bowl of toasted oat squares and cold milk...and oops! Just remembered I forgot to call my best friend and about 2 other people...should I do that now? Maybe I'll just text them...
No! No! Stay with it! What if you were on a professional deadline? Could you take a break from your assignment for toasted oats and text messages? Stop it! Drink water. Rein it in.
Great! Now where's that banging noise coming from?!? Either someone in my house is giving our universal audial signal for choking, or building an ark. If they are choking, I might regret not getting up. If it's an ark-in-process, I am really going to be upset: those kinds of projects should really take place out of doors and during morning hours.
Of course, I have also raised the stakes to a ridiculous level by coming back to my blog right in the middle of March Madness. I live in a house with UCONN Husky stalwarts who are currently watching the game...on separate televisions in separate rooms. I myself am a recovering UCONN fanatic, having given my nerves and my vocal chords to this team over a 10-year period. I finally had to seek help. I can resist watching the game...I've done it before...at least most of it...so long as they are way ahead...and no one in my house is screaming...maybe I could just turn the game on and hit the "mute" button...
Ohhh, man. Now they are screaming and clapping. This is not an atmosphere condusive to literary greatness-especially when UCONN just won and...See? See? I am not focusing here.
Any other time, I would be hit with some snippet of burgeoning profundity. The sheer force of its advent would propel me to my laptop and onto my facebook page. There, I would spend the next 5-10 minutes attempting to condense some potential revelatory truth into the required 420 character limit. Now, I am sitting in front of a huge window of my very own, with most of the limits removed, able to say anything I want in as many words as I want...and all I want is cereal.
I am almost sure I know why there is such a dip in my level of passion as I attempt to blog. Facebook provides someone like myself--a woman who is perpetually unfocused and adrenaline-depleted right now--with a shot of instant gratification through immediate feedback.
Think about it: the friends are all right there. Some of them became your fb friends because of what you had to say. The chance of you getting at least one or two "like" responses on a status is pretty high. If you really hit the mark, and it resonates with your fb crew, you could stand to get upwards of 30-40 positive responses. Add to that the potential of at least 10 of those people actually leaving a comment, and engaging in a real conversation with you, and you've got the perfect remedy for lifting the doldrums. Heaven help me if someone actually asks to repost what I posted...Whee! Upsurges of happy serotonin waves of acceptance washing over me! Even if I end up in a disagreement (I honestly do not enjoy the emotional anguish, nor do I tend to recover quickly), at least for that moment I was no longer neurologically inactive.
Blogging, to my thinking, requires more work. Unlike facebook, you have do a little more marketing to get people to visit. Then, once you get people to follow your musings, you suddenly feel this weighty obligation to keep them coming back-and for far more depth of observation than a 420-character blurb (at least that's how I felt; then when I let the blog slide for too long I felt incredibly guilty. Classic Dana.) If you are like me, and attempting to consistently compete in the ultimate trifecta-fb posting, blogging, and tweeting-you may have already come to realize, as I have, that to do all of it well is, at the very least, a part-time job.
Or at least it could be a part-time job...if I keep at it.
A major reason why I'm trying again is to see if this would be a viable option as a source of income. So while I'm breaking through the ice once again on this site, I'm also doing some research on professional bloggers and how they got established.
It's been said more than a few times that the ultimate career objective is to find something you love to do and see if you can get someone to pay you to do it. I have taken on a lot of jobs for pay: some have brought joy; many have not. There have been signposts pointing in this direction for a while. At first, there were sporadic compliments, and a supervisor who encouraged me to consider writing. With the advent of facebook came a vehicle through which my passion found a platform, as well as a real-time education in the potency and personal responsibilities inherent in written communication. More recently, there have been luminiscent indicators and confirmations from the best of sources that told me I should move forward with my writing.
I guess where I get a little catch in my heart is when I consider whether I can maintain the blog consistently and professionally, while still holding onto the transparency, intensity, humor, and verve that makes me unique. While I have found boldness to share on facebook, writing is still an intimate mode of expression for me. There may be work that I will never share with the public, and I always want that to be okay. I never want to lose that enclosed and yet spacious place meant only for God, the words, and my heart.
It is 10:50pm. The UCONN game has been over for quite some time. The environment is nearly free of movement, cheering, or ark-building of any kind. My television is on and watching me. I have not moved from this spot for a single oat square or even a sip of water. I overcame the temptation to concede to the failsafe options I know and perform so well when I feel frustrated with myself. I completed this blog, and I will post it in just moments. Do I feel a sense of great accomplishment? There is definitely a bit of a surge, but in vintage Dana style, I will probably not celebrate it nearly as much as I should. I am going to wait until I've hit the "publish post" button at least a few more times...and actually told other people about it.
I wonder how many people hit "like" on my two most recent facebook statuses?
Until The Next Time, I Remain...
Totally Grace-Dependent
DEFinitively
Even now, as I attempt to put font to screen, I feel "the block."
It is so much easier to lean back on the bed and surf for some channel with some sitcom I've seen enough times to not only quote the dialogue, but to place bets on what episode will air before the opening credits are done. This is a most unimpressive feat I've disciplined myself to accomplish, day after day...for decades.
This very second, I want to stop what I'm doing and grab a bowl of toasted oat squares and cold milk...and oops! Just remembered I forgot to call my best friend and about 2 other people...should I do that now? Maybe I'll just text them...
No! No! Stay with it! What if you were on a professional deadline? Could you take a break from your assignment for toasted oats and text messages? Stop it! Drink water. Rein it in.
Great! Now where's that banging noise coming from?!? Either someone in my house is giving our universal audial signal for choking, or building an ark. If they are choking, I might regret not getting up. If it's an ark-in-process, I am really going to be upset: those kinds of projects should really take place out of doors and during morning hours.
Of course, I have also raised the stakes to a ridiculous level by coming back to my blog right in the middle of March Madness. I live in a house with UCONN Husky stalwarts who are currently watching the game...on separate televisions in separate rooms. I myself am a recovering UCONN fanatic, having given my nerves and my vocal chords to this team over a 10-year period. I finally had to seek help. I can resist watching the game...I've done it before...at least most of it...so long as they are way ahead...and no one in my house is screaming...maybe I could just turn the game on and hit the "mute" button...
Ohhh, man. Now they are screaming and clapping. This is not an atmosphere condusive to literary greatness-especially when UCONN just won and...See? See? I am not focusing here.
Any other time, I would be hit with some snippet of burgeoning profundity. The sheer force of its advent would propel me to my laptop and onto my facebook page. There, I would spend the next 5-10 minutes attempting to condense some potential revelatory truth into the required 420 character limit. Now, I am sitting in front of a huge window of my very own, with most of the limits removed, able to say anything I want in as many words as I want...and all I want is cereal.
I am almost sure I know why there is such a dip in my level of passion as I attempt to blog. Facebook provides someone like myself--a woman who is perpetually unfocused and adrenaline-depleted right now--with a shot of instant gratification through immediate feedback.
Think about it: the friends are all right there. Some of them became your fb friends because of what you had to say. The chance of you getting at least one or two "like" responses on a status is pretty high. If you really hit the mark, and it resonates with your fb crew, you could stand to get upwards of 30-40 positive responses. Add to that the potential of at least 10 of those people actually leaving a comment, and engaging in a real conversation with you, and you've got the perfect remedy for lifting the doldrums. Heaven help me if someone actually asks to repost what I posted...Whee! Upsurges of happy serotonin waves of acceptance washing over me! Even if I end up in a disagreement (I honestly do not enjoy the emotional anguish, nor do I tend to recover quickly), at least for that moment I was no longer neurologically inactive.
Blogging, to my thinking, requires more work. Unlike facebook, you have do a little more marketing to get people to visit. Then, once you get people to follow your musings, you suddenly feel this weighty obligation to keep them coming back-and for far more depth of observation than a 420-character blurb (at least that's how I felt; then when I let the blog slide for too long I felt incredibly guilty. Classic Dana.) If you are like me, and attempting to consistently compete in the ultimate trifecta-fb posting, blogging, and tweeting-you may have already come to realize, as I have, that to do all of it well is, at the very least, a part-time job.
Or at least it could be a part-time job...if I keep at it.
A major reason why I'm trying again is to see if this would be a viable option as a source of income. So while I'm breaking through the ice once again on this site, I'm also doing some research on professional bloggers and how they got established.
It's been said more than a few times that the ultimate career objective is to find something you love to do and see if you can get someone to pay you to do it. I have taken on a lot of jobs for pay: some have brought joy; many have not. There have been signposts pointing in this direction for a while. At first, there were sporadic compliments, and a supervisor who encouraged me to consider writing. With the advent of facebook came a vehicle through which my passion found a platform, as well as a real-time education in the potency and personal responsibilities inherent in written communication. More recently, there have been luminiscent indicators and confirmations from the best of sources that told me I should move forward with my writing.
I guess where I get a little catch in my heart is when I consider whether I can maintain the blog consistently and professionally, while still holding onto the transparency, intensity, humor, and verve that makes me unique. While I have found boldness to share on facebook, writing is still an intimate mode of expression for me. There may be work that I will never share with the public, and I always want that to be okay. I never want to lose that enclosed and yet spacious place meant only for God, the words, and my heart.
It is 10:50pm. The UCONN game has been over for quite some time. The environment is nearly free of movement, cheering, or ark-building of any kind. My television is on and watching me. I have not moved from this spot for a single oat square or even a sip of water. I overcame the temptation to concede to the failsafe options I know and perform so well when I feel frustrated with myself. I completed this blog, and I will post it in just moments. Do I feel a sense of great accomplishment? There is definitely a bit of a surge, but in vintage Dana style, I will probably not celebrate it nearly as much as I should. I am going to wait until I've hit the "publish post" button at least a few more times...and actually told other people about it.
I wonder how many people hit "like" on my two most recent facebook statuses?
Until The Next Time, I Remain...
Totally Grace-Dependent
DEFinitively
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Breaking Program
Facebook Dana Elizabeth Fripp: "Breaking Program Now Initiated. Accellerated Program Now Activated. Time Initiated: Before Time Began but Recently Ascertained by Subject as Currently in Process. Estimated Time of Completion:Undetermined by Fleshly Means of Chronology. Objectives Achieved: Only as Subject in Question Achieves Recalibration and Realignment via the Operation of the Holy Spirit. Level of Discomfort/Intensity: Frequently and Consistently Excruciating. Potential as Container of Higher Levels of Glory: Extremely High, but again Actual Outcomes determined by Willing Submission of Subject in Question to Full Recalibration Process. Level of Grace As Pertaining to Subject in Question:Unlimited.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
In Response to the Love of A Old Friend While Telling Myself The Truth
Facebook Dana Elizabeth Fripp: "Yes indeed, Kemmee. That is something about which I have a certain level of understanding, and I thank you always for the encouraging reminder. This is just another deep layer of God's Transforming work in me. It's yet another season of Intense Preparation within my character. From Glory to Glory. He's scraping the sides of the vessel to make more room for Him Glory in me, and as much as it hurts, it's still fine with me. It was time for the revelation of this 'hole in my soul' so that He could heal me and fill it with more of Himself. Any sooner, I would likely fallen apart at the seams and shipwrecked. Any later, this hole would've become a hidden snare that emerged to discredit and sabotage the integrity of the work He has for me. Man! It hurts, and it may for a good minute while I get real about these issues. I can see now that prior to this season of difficulty and purging, God did much to ensure that even in the midst of my failings, there would be this insatiable, undeniable craving for His Heart and the sound of that Singular Voice in my ear that would send me racing back to find Him. I couldn't stay away-I'd already been marked by Love no matter what I tried to do, or how I viewed myself. He just wouldn't relent. There is no love like His Love."
Really Telling Myself The Truth About This Thing...
Facebook Dana Elizabeth Fripp: "When two people of faith are pressing for a relationship that God hasn't ordained, all because each person longs to be with someone, two (among many) things are happening: you're hindering God's Best for the OTHER person, and therefore not walking in Real Love, and you're telling God that He doesn't know how to do His Job of perfecting that which concerns you. Do you REALLY want to go there?"
More Telling Myself The Truth About This Thing...
Facebook Dana Elizabeth Fripp: "If the hole in your heart screams for someone to find you wholly desirable just once...if your contentment as a single person is suffering from the wear and tear of the decades...if you're done with relatives asking you about your prospects...if you privately anguish over what on earth could make you so unattractive to the opposite sex-it's as if you secrete an essence that says to a emotional predator,'Come and get me, baby! I'm ready!'"
Telling Myself The Truth About This Thing...
Facebook Dana Elizabeth Fripp: "When a man says to you, 'I don't like women. They don't know what they want,' yet he wants you to marry him right away, there is something seriously askewed going on in his internal mix. There is definitely something askew in you for thinking he will change his viewpoint just because you decide to stay with him."
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