This year's purge has included a major clean up of my social media. Blogging more. Facebooking less. And really straightening up my friends list and who sees what. Is that mean? Maybe. But as I grow older, even though I know every single person on my friends list in "real" life, I honestly don't want them all seeing photos of my children, knowing my prayer requests, etc. I am learning the value and importance of boundaries. I've made my Facebook personal to too many for too long out of fear it will affect the success of both my ministry and my career.
One way I curbed the guilt factor is I made a Facebook page & website for my writing. So people who enjoy reading what I have to say (*crickets*), still can. And the pics of my kiddos and my grandmother's secret frosting recipe can be reserved for those who actually SHOULD have access to my heart.
I spent days test driving titles for the page/website in my mind - I turned over ideas related to faith, family, recovery, depression, dance and a myriad of other things that are a part of my life. I typed out sparkly titles and clever puns. And suddenly, I simply settled on my own name.
Um, what?
If you've known me for any length of time, you know that I HATE my name. Tamara is always mispronounced. Always. I actually commend people who read it aloud correctly on the first try. It's Tam-Er-Ruh - like "camera." Apparently the skill level necessary to comprehend this is up there with brain surgery or landing on a comet. I get Ta-mare-uh, Ta-mar-uh, Tamar, Theresa......thus, except for brief periods of 3rd and 6th grade, I always go by Tammy.
Tammy, unfortunately seems to be often associated with trashy trailer parks, strippers and mean ex-wives. I have seen many a Tammy on TV shows and in films, and it is almost never good news.
My middle name is Marie. Just like every other girl born in the 1980s to a Catholic-at-least-on-Christmas-and-Easter family. My other option would've been Ann, Anne or perhaps Elizabeth or Catherine if my mother had been feeling exceptionally fancy after the epidural.
And my last name.....let's not even get started. We can go with my maiden name, which happens to have a pedestrian curse word nestled in the center of it, or my married name that sank me to the bottom of the alphabet and when combined with my formal first, rhymes like a Dr. Seuss character.
But God told me firmly yesterday to just stick to the basics with my writing promotion. To try this new, crazy thing where I stand firm in who I am. He knows my name. He knew it before I was born. I've never been proud of it. I've always shown it disdain. But God wants me to stand with it. I would love to run down to the courthouse and change it to something sweet and simple like Jane, or beautifully elegant like....I don't know....anything NOT Tammy or Tamara....but I won't. Because it is a part of who I am, and at the same time, really not much of me at all.
What is your name? Your true name? What do you represent?
I'm going to be real here....since I am continually aiming to move more toward a singular real life rather than some Internet persona.....this is what I think I currently represent:
- stress
- worry
- complaining
- ungratefulness
- fear
Now, to be fair to myself, during my brief shining star moments of clarity I also probably represent perseverance, creativity, faith and courage. Sometimes. And by saying "sometimes," I am being VERY generous with myself.
But I want to represent more than this. I would love to no longer be associated with some of the things listed above. I only have one life, and I've wasted so much of it trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and placing other people's opinions ahead of God's. Did you know God has NEVER told me I'm not good enough to belong to Him? Did you know God has NEVER stopped being a part of my life because I didn't act exactly as He wanted? Weird how we pin those things on God, when really it's all people....people whom God loves dearly, but are fallible and hurtful just the same.
I've built my altar out of them. And now it's crumbling.
I want to represent joy, peace and tenacity. I want those God places in my life to consider me to be someone who is committed, genuine and confident in both who I am in Christ and who they are in Him, too.
I want my best friends to know that I love to bake for them, I love to host parties and rainy days are my favorite weather. I want my best friends to know that underneath all this fear and self-doubt, I have the potential to be a really happy, helpful person who is so incredibly grateful for the blessings she's received.
I want people to know that I'm terrified of Universal Studios and dragonflies instead of knowing I'm stuck in much bigger fears that really should know longer matter. That my favorite color is pink, my favorite food is Asian anything and that I sound amazing when I sing in the shower.
There's so much more to me than what depression & anxiety allow me to show the world. Only a few people really have known my heart fully (if you knew all of the above, then gold star!) and I want to work hard toward having a heart fully open to Christ. That when people mispronounce my name, it will be synonymous with an example of how to truly live the one precious life we have. For Him.
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