Daddy, Aren't I Pretty?

Justin and I read through a couple of books that are intended to help you get a better understanding of your spouse.  There were some great chapters and some not at all useful ones.  They are meant for a husband to read the one about wives and visa versa, but we read through them together.

I found it fascinating reading about “how women think”. I am one, and have no idea what drives me to react the way I do to things.  One of the chapters was about how a woman feels loved: a woman’s need to feel pretty (in compression to a man’s need to feel respected).  I’m a pretty confident woman and I don’t necessarily find myself unattractive so as we started the chapter I thought “well this doesn’t apply to me”…but oh how it does.  It was the example they gave that stuck out to me (paraphrased because I’m on my lunch break at work and the book is at home):

Imagine a little girl in a new dress twirling in the living room.  She shout’s, “Daddy, look at me, aren’t I pretty”?  Your wife feels that same way, but as an adult doesn’t walk around saying, “Husband, don’t I look pretty”? But deep down, she needs that.

WHY as women do we constantly compare ourselves to others? We all do it.  That other lady walking passed you at the grocery store…we find that one thing about her that is ‘obviously’ better and focus on that: I wish I had hair like that, Her eyes are so much nicer than mine, Her belly doesn’t hang over her belt… and so on.

And now time for confession.

I sometimes dwell on these things too long.  And it leads me down a path of self pity and I HATE when I get there.  Because deep down, I know it’s just a slap in the face to my creator.

Here’s how it plays out…

Justin tells me I’m pretty (by saying it or expressing it using non verbal queues):

My translation:  He’s just saying that because he has to (or because he wants to get something out of it).  He doesn’t really mean it. I know he thinks that one actress from that one movie we just watched is much prettier than me.  He probably wishes she was his wife. She’d be such a better wife – she takes better care of herself.

OR

Justin spends a day doing frustrating homework/work and is his brain if exhausted.  He relieves that tension by playing a game or watching some TV.

My Translation: He doesn’t want to spend time with me.  I’m just an inconvenience that gets in the way of things he’d rather do.  I must just add to his frustrations.  If I was a better wife he’d want to spend every second of free time he had with me.  He just tolerates me because I am sometimes convenient to have around.  If I was a better wife he’d try to get all that stuff done while I’m busy so we could do stuff together when I’m around.  If I was a better wife he’d be the one to initiate alone time for us more often.

Do NOT read this as an insult to my husband.  That’s not the point (he’s pretty awesome). The point is my SIN! That when I get wrapped up in my relationship with my husband I lose sight of the relationship that matters more.  That I get focused on finding my self worth in my husband and not in the God who created me.  I put an unfair expectation on my husband to be my sole comforter and provider and don’t turn to the ultimate comforter and provider.  Because in the end, my relationship with my husband is NOT what really matters.  It’s my relationship with my savior.

So, this last week has been one of those times I’ve dwelt on this.  I’ve been mopey and moody as I start to pile up all the ways Justin dislikes me because of how unattractive I am, or how boring I am, or how naggy I am.  The worst part is, I KNOW I’M DOING IT! I’m trying to dig myself out of this hole and thinking, “I don’t want to bother Justin will all of this because saying what I’m feeling will be hurtful and I know deep down I don’t even really mean it. So I’ll just work through it alone”.  Alone… instead of turning to God like I KNOW I should.  I pretend to go through the motions of a “good Christian” and pray about it – but again, I KNOW I don’t mean it.  I know I’m still holding onto the crap with a clinched fist and just telling God, “Hey I have a bunch of crap in this fist you should take care of, but I won’t let you near it”.

THEN, it rained.  I know you don’t understand how that is relevant.  I’ll let you in on a secret.  The only reason rain exists is because it’s my love language.  It’s how God communicates with me.  You might think it rains because it spreads water across the earth and helps things grow.  That’s only a side effect.  Really God created rain because he knew I’d need it.  He knew that I’d be having a little pity party today as I walked to my car for lunch.  He knew I’d be thinking that it sucks that it was “supposed” to rain today and didn’t.  So as soon as I sat down in my car the rain came.  And that fist so tightly clinched around that crap finally loosened. The rain was my reminder that God always provides and he is always there when we need him.

Granted…I only loosened that fist so I know I still have some more heart work to do so I can fully let it go. But at least I am now moving in right direction.