A few weeks ago AJ brough up “the name for yourself, in your own head”. Who am I – to me? Am I Christina? Christie? Stina? Chrissy? Not to mention the silly nicknames, like Monkey Princess. Does one define me more than the others? Or are they all a little bit of me? I used to pride myself in my faceted personality. Each “me” would fit for a situation or a social group. Each was just as much me as the others, whole and complete within itself and in tandem.

The past few years have been, well, let’s call them exploratory. Some good, some bad. In that exploration there was oppression – which is, in away, exploratory in the newness and the experience of it. After that road trip, I have been slowly understanding and redefining who I am. I’ve been coming to terms with that and accepting myself in a way I don’t know that I ever have. It’s interesting – as I return to my roots, I have found that some of them no longer apply. They were me, but now they are not. However because they were, they are, and are therefor, historically, my foundation.

One example would be my flirtatiousness. Is that a word? Well, spell check says it is – good for me. I used to be a huge flirt, but it wasn’t flirting, it was just ME. How I interacted with people, male or female, was the same. I guess it was flirting. I’ve discovered that my behavior towards people has changed and that I would no longer classify it as flirting. Is it maturity? It is marriage? All? None?

In my acceptance of me, is a new ability to identify tendencies in my person which I want to change. My apathy. My jealousy. My resistance. My submission. While resistance and submission may be used for good, I have not used them so… at least not frequently. Being back in school has also helped in some amazing ways. My English class addresses a variety of subjects, from education, to psychology, to social standards, and general acceptance of humanity. These subjects have forced me to examine myself and my behavior.

I do not want to lay there while the crows gnaw out my eyes.

I love my husband. I have made a choice to love my husband despite emotion or situation. I made a choice when we started dating that I would not be unfaithful. I made a choice to walk away from temptation, run if needed. I made a choice to let love and friendship reign. I made a choice, and it’s been quite a few years now – and I have not failed in those choices. If I can take pride in anything, it should be that. Those choices are some of the most important and impressive choices of my life. While I may struggled, I have not failed.

I am learning to walk. In the past I run and I fall. Those were the only two options for me. Run. Fall. That’s it. I am learning to crawl before I walk. Walk a ways… I haven’t quite gotten to running. Honestly, I am a bit fearful that I may allow old habits to resurface. In order to be solid and steady in my path, I plan on walking until running happens on its own, without my gear shifting.

I desire people. I will not be afraid of them. I will accept and appreciate the fear, but I will not allow it to control my actions. At least that’s the plan. It’s a work in progress.

God is a difficult one for me. I long for that relationship. Am afraid it’s not there. That fear makes me question my salvation. Like my husband, it’s a choice for me. God is a choice and I think that is how He must deal with me for a while. If truth exists, then I will keep falling into it. It is impossible not to. The taste will be beautiful and my tongue is out letting the rain drops land upon it.

Hello world. I am…