Inherent Worth and Dignity

On Sunday I attended a UU church for the first time in six weeks.  The sermon was based around the life and teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and I heard the phrase "inherent worth and dignity" many times.  That phrase comes from the first of the seven Unitarian Universalist principles: "We affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person."

I had been thinking of doing seven posts about the UU principles anyway, and didn't know how to go about writing that first one.  Everyone who knows me knows that I am passionate about equality between peoples of differing ethnic groups, genders, sexual orientations, religions, nationalities, ages... the list goes on and on.  I could foresee the rolled eyes as they read down whatever I had to say on the subject: "Jeez, is she on her soapbox again?  We get it, Rachel, you love gay people.  You can stop talking about it now."

But this morning, I had a thought that sparked me to wonder--maybe my blind spot about the inherent worth in every human doesn't lie with others.  Maybe the trouble I have with worth and dignity is with my own.
I've already said that I am not going to use this blog to dwell on and/or analyze what went wrong in my marriage and led to its demise.  But I will say this: I believe people treat us the way we show them we deserve to be treated.  In my relationship with my husband, this is what I showed him:

"I don't think I am beautiful, so I'm not going to try to be.  I don't think I can make money or be successful.  I don't think I have a likeable personality, so I'm going to sequester myself in the house.  My value comes from how well I cook, clean, and please you in bed.  I do not deserve to be valued just for being me."
And so, unsurprisingly, he treated me as though these things were true.  He treated me how I showed him he should treat me.

Kabbalist Karen Berg writes in her book God Wears Lipstick: "When it comes to forgiveness, everything you experience is a test.  When you become stuck in an unforgiving posture, you have not yet learned the lesson.  The essence of forgiveness lies in understanding that there is really nothing to forgive.  No one has harmed you, nor can they ever harm you.  Everything is a reminder to let go and trust God.  Other people never truly hurt you; you hurt yourself by disconnecting from the Light.  Everything in our lives is designed to help us remember this fact."
So I am not angry, or even overly sad, about the end of my marriage.  What kind of life would I have had if I had spent the rest of it believing those depressing things about myself?  What kind of model would I have provided for my daughter as she grew into a woman?

The life lesson I am taking from Lee's and my divorce is this: I can be successful and self-sufficient.  If I carry myself in this way, I will attract people to me who treat me as though I have limitless worth and dignity...

Because I do.

A Very Short List

At this starting-over point in my life, I've been musing on what I really need to make me happy (as in, a long-term plan).  After much weeding out of unnecessary things, here are the two things I really feel *must* be present in my life for it to be fulfilling and satisfactory to me.

1. I want a passel of children and I want to homeschool them. Biologically mine or not, it doesn't matter.
2. I want a semi-nomadic lifestyle.  Meaning, I want to be on the go a lot--volunteer trips, visiting family and friends, traveling for pleasure.  And when I'm at "home base," ideally our home would be a train-station-like flurry of loved ones who know that they can drop in at any time and stay for as long as they like.

Unconventional? Yes. But totally possible. Of course, I have work to do and education to complete before I'll have enough money and skills to support me and Ro, and to buy a modest home-base.  Holler, goals! Onward!

Oh, and a plug for my all-time favorite blog, Sparkling Adventures.  Lauren and her family aren't the reason I want to be nomadic--I've wanted that for years and just found her blog about a year ago--but she showcases how wonderfully the lifestyle can suit a free-spirited family.  I'd want to be at home-base more than they are, but they're still the bee's knees.

Failure?

Hello, and welcome to Woman, Uncovered! This blog will chronicle my journey towards becoming a strong, self-sufficient woman. I'm starting from square one, but I believe in myself and know the journey will be rewarding. Not to mention, it's necessary.

I'm twenty-two. I have no degree, no job, no husband. I have a toddler.

I am not a failure.

Five weeks ago, my husband made it clear to me that our marriage was over. Then he went to work, smiling like nothing was wrong.

I held out for as long as I could, but sometime around 8:00 pm I called my minister, who was in Atlanta with his wife who had just donated a kidney to a family member.  Needless to say, I felt like a heel for even calling... but I didn't know what else to do, and that's what ministers are for, right?  A friend from church was in the living room playing with Little One and there was no time like the present.

I snuffled into the conversation gracelessly, leaning my forehead against the cold glass of my bathroom window. I hadn't turned the light on.  "I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm sure you're busy," I wailed, and received this cheerful reply: "I have all the time in the world, Rach. I just hope you don't mind if I take you with me while I'm walking the dog."

Half an hour later I'd poured out the entire sordid contents of my marriage and wasted another two rolls of toilet paper on my tears and snot.  The minister asked me if I could describe my feelings.  Not just "sad," or "lonely," but the deeper things.  After thinking a moment, I launched in.

"I feel... betrayed..."

From Atlanta: "Hmm."

"Hopeless.  Adrift."

"Mmhmm. What else?"

The words began to pour out. "Worthless.  Stupid.  Naive.  Damaged.  Failure.  More than anything, a failure.  I just feel like such a failure!"

I pressed my cheek and hand onto the window, and the calm voice said something I couldn't understand. It said "Rachel, listen to me: you haven't failed at anything at all."

I crumpled to the floor while he told me I was still worthy of love--that I'd always be worthy of love.  Before ending the conversation to get back to Rowan, I tersely informed him "I don't believe you. I don't have any reason to believe you."

I believe him now.

I'm starting over. It wasn't my choice to end my marriage, and I can't be responsible for anyone else's choices.  I can't waste my life worrying about whose "fault" it was, or even if it's "right or wrong" for him to have made the choice he's made. All I can do is love myself, love my child, and realize that I'm worthy of a life which will fulfill me and cause me to find joy every day that I live it.

So I'm starting over. Won't you join me?