It is apparent I have been hurt by men.
My colleague has a daughter who is behaving in ways that scream trauma. Her therapist said it was likely sexual trauma that triggered her behavior. She lies. To everyone all the time. She hurts herself. She is superbly insecure though she is stunning, smart, and successful for her age. She has parents who adore her. But she finds trouble. Often. And the dangerous kind.
She may be 21, but I get her.
I've often wondered if something sexually traumatizing happened to me when I was younger. If it did, I have no memory of it. But I act in ways similar to those who do have a memory of it. So I suppose it's a moot point.
Sexual trauma wreaks havoc. It's like buying a bulldozer to drive. She has her whole life ahead of her, and she is choosing to destroy it as best she can. She isn't comfortable proceeding until she knows she has wrecked everything around her.
Simply because someone along the way devalued her.
The women before us have fought long and hard to drag our gender out of the pit of sex and slavery. Our value as individuals was lost, and we were simply a vessel for heirs and food...
...and sexual gratification.
I feel it when I get gas. When I'm at the grocery store. When I'm at the pool with my boys. With or without makeup. With or without having showered. The eyes of men on me likely having inappropriate thoughts as I pay for Gogurt and string cheese and juice boxes...my two boys watching.
I have been objectified. More than once. I will continue to be. I know that I'm not unfortunate in the looks department as my parents are two good looking people, but this fact makes it more frustrating.
I've often had the thought that if I shaved my head, perhaps I could find a man that didn't just want me for my appearance. Perhaps then I could have an intelligent conversation with the opposite sex and feel valued.
Graham put a bag over his head the other day, and my thought was, "I get it, son. I really do."
I don't believe it's the fault of men. I believe it is the fault of our culture...and our fallen nature.
Women are still slaves in a sense. Serving the whims and fantasies of the opposite sex.
With or without our consent.
I'm afraid for my boys. I'm afraid that they will grow up learning also to objectify women. I'm afraid that they will be bewitched by a woman simply because of her appearance and will forget to find her heart in the midst of it. I'm afraid they will treat women as I have often been treated.
As an object.
God, however, knows me. He can listen to me drone on for days about how happy I am with my new cleaning product, or how amazingly smart my boys are, or how I love literature. He sits with me when I watch YouTube music videos. He loves my brain, my heart, my soul. He looks at me with kindness and grace and giggles at my jokes. He LOVES me intimately. And not the sexual kind.
So if you see me with a shaved head, please tell me how big my brain looks...not how good my hair (or lack thereof) looks.
And He is jealous for me,
Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory.
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.
And, oh, how He loves us, oh,
Oh, how He loves us,
How He loves us all
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