conversations.*

*please note the change in title. i had intended to write about one thing, but decided to write about more. therefore this blog involves multiple conversations. not just one.

interesting conversations in my life lately have led to some severe disillusionment. (disillusionment, by the way, always sounds and feels like a bad thing, but is in actuality a very good thing.)

pornography. according to viable sources, every man struggles with pornography. this is a very jagged pill to swallow for a twenty-four-year-old girl with a minister for a father and no brothers. i knew it was common. i even suspected that it was a problem for all teenage boys and all younger men. but i suppose that somewhere in me, i assumed it went away...that men matured out of it...that they got it under control...that marriage fixed it somehow. i see now how obviously naive that is.

the enlightening part for me is how strongly i reacted to this news. i cried for the first time in quite a while. i sat there with tears pushing at the back of my eyes trying to figure out why in the world this would make me cry. porn isn't a new subject. i'm not a complete idiot when it comes to human sexuality and the phsyiological effects of hormones. so why cry? i don't cry because i blame men or hate them for it or think they are bad or wrong. i cry because it hit me that this is simply life and it is inescapable. i cry because, at the risk of sounding like a six-year-old throwing a tantrum, it's just not fair. it's everywhere, and that is so very unfair. it is not fair that women i admire and respect and find so beautiful have to wonder about themselves. it is not fair that they ever have to feel inadequate. it is not fair that good men have no recourse to get away from it. it is not fair that it is so accessible and so accepted.

i have always expected marriage to be a safe place...not that all marriages are a safe place, but that somehow, mine would be. the disillusionment is the realization that it's not going to be. if i ever expect to feel beautiful and wanted, i am going to have to work that out now and on my own, because it isn't going to get easier just because i have a ring on my finger. (i think a lot of girls think that it will.) and that disappoints me because that means it's my responsibility, and that means i have a sizable hurdle in front of me. after years disbelieving the comments of those around me, i don't know how i ever thought he would magically be the one i would believe. for a moment, i am discouraged. moment immediately following: determined to accomplish this task on my own.

more disillusionment. i am twenty-four years old, feeling pretty good about my life. i have my own place, pay my own bills, drive my own car (almost). and i'm in orange county. the illusion has been: the hard part is over; if i can make it here now, i can make it anywhere. disillusionment: this is only the beginning; the worst is yet to come. as i listen to these people i love deeply talk about the trial of life they survived to get to a plateau of normalcy, as i watch them cry at the memory of the pain they endured, as i watch them shake their heads in dismay at the hardship they persisted, i realize that their past is my future. i have never had to work three jobs to feed empty tummies. i have never had to survive on three hours of sleep a night. i have never had to watch my child scream in pain with no means of comfort to offer. i have never watched my parent die. i have never had to question my husband's love for me. i have never had to work through hurt and frustration to revive a marriage. i have never had to buy a home and stare at the bills in terror and wonderment as to how they would be paid. i have never had to look at my child through a pane of glass wondering if i would ever hold him again. this all flooded me in one conversation. and it made me want to quit before i had even begun. once i allowed the tears that were taunting me to come out, i couldn't make them stop. is it worth it? really and truly? my precious friend who loves me so carefully said, "it is so worth it. just take it one day at a time, baby. you're trying to swallow ten years in one night." and then she held me, and i remembered how much i really do love to be held.

it is struggle, after all, that brings unity. it is the fear that leads to hope. it is the pain that leads to healing. it is the trial that leads to joy. i just don't look forward to it today as much as i did yesterday. there just seems to be an awful lot of growing up to do before i get to be the woman i want to be.

which brings me to the other good news: tomorrow i will only be one day older than i am today.