Here's My Word, with Apologies to Ms. Clarkson

It's like finding the right swimsuit.  It's never the first one you try on.  After a dozen or so, it seems like a swimsuit chooses you.  It fits in the bust and across the backside.  Doesn't ride up too high or plunge down too low.  And then you breathe a sigh of relief.

Finding a word that describes you is a process.  Sometimes painful, sometimes unpredictable.

I wanted others' words to fit me. I know women who are

funny

witty

beautiful

brilliant

popular

These are definitely not me.  They were the string bikinis on the model:  attention grabbers that just don't work for me.

I plowed through words, occasionally stopping to try one on, checking the fit.  Loud and organized only fit sometimes, while bossy, prideful, selfish, and opinionated fit all too well yet don't define me completely (I hope).

Tucker gave a talk in Church last Mother's Day, and the word he used to describe me was passionate.  I liked that.  I liked that my son sees that I love what I do and try to do it well.  But that was his word for me, not mine.

A very close friend once thought I was mean, kinda scary and aloof.  Not very positive, these words.  And not completely accurate, either (even she would agree, I think).

Would I ever get to the section where my swimsuit--my word--would find me?

I tried on a few more, and these were fitting a little better:

Self-confident

Self-assured

Determined

Assertive

Smarty-pants

But I still didn't feel like I'd found the one.

And then, it hit me.  The perfect word.  Both positive and negative.  One that shows who I am and doesn't pretend to be more.
What's my word?  It's

Independent

I've never been one who needed a friend to accompany me to the bathroom or Costco.  Even though I strive to be accepted and loved, I've never hedged my opinion.  I don't mince words, and either love me or hate me, that's fine.  I want you to love me, but I can stand on my own, thank you very much. People interpret this as unfeeling, I'm sure.  But I'm not unfeeling, because the barbs hurt.  I just don't let them hurt for long.

I need time during the day when it's quiet and just me so I can regroup. I love to go to breakfast or the library or shopping or the bookstore alone, just to be with myself.  Brad doesn't get that completely.  Neither do I, frankly.

I think I can do it on my own, even when I can't.  I resist assistance from others when I could truly use it--my family, my husband, my God.  It's especially difficult when I know I need to trust my Heavenly Father, but I just can't give up the control. This will be my eternal struggle--surrendering my independence to those whose help will make me better and make me happy.

Not the suit I took from the rack, thinking I'd like the best.  But it's the one that fits--fortes, flaws, and everything in between.


So what did you come up with? I can't wait to hear what you've been pondering the last few days. Leave a link below so I can read! Or, if you don't have a blog, leave a comment with your thoughts and why that word works for you.