"Butterflies"

So these are some song lyrics I wrote for our as-yet-nonexistent band. (Pray do not ask me for the tune, as I am utterly incapable of creating a tune of any kind, lol) And I do have to admit that a little John Keats snuck in there, but it's not scamming, it's a reference, right? ;)

It's vaguely based on a girl that I have never met, but that 2 of my sisters have and whom I have heard about and seen photos of on other peoples' Facebooks (she doesn't have her own account, naturally).

"Butterflies"

VERSE 1
So I’ve just seen the strangest sight
‘Cause I saw you at church last night
Standing shyly there
Across the room
Your grandma’s shoes and wrinkled skirt
Four buttons on your polo shirt:
They wrapped you up
Like a cocoon.
I couldn’t smile on your behalf
But neither could I think to laugh;
I looked at me
When I saw you

CHORUS
How I wish that you and I
Were multi-colored butterflies
We’d float away forever in a jewel-like sky.
‘Cause when I look at you and I
I swear to God, it makes me cry
Let’s spread our wings and soar so high

VERSE 2
Well in a sense you’re not alone
They used to dress me, too, at home
And so I know
What you must be
They snatch your beauty and your smile
And dress you in this dowdy style
In the name of God
And modesty
But in the name of all that is
Who lets you leave the house like this?
Don’t they know how sad
You are to see?

CHORUS
How I wish that you and I
Were multi-colored butterflies
We’d float away forever in a jewel-like sky.
‘Cause when I look at you and I
I swear to God, it makes me cry
Let’s spread our wings and soar so high

VERSE 3
And soon the years will slip unseen
You’re twenty-four and still fourteen
And safe from grown-up
Life and lust,
But you will never find yourself
‘Cause you’re a doll upon their shelf
Is this right?
And is this just?
They’ll stuff your head with silly lies
‘Til real life takes you by surprise
And what will happen,
Then, to us?

CHORUS
How I wish that you and I
Were multi-colored butterflies
We’d float away forever in a jewel-like sky.
‘Cause when I look at you and I
I swear to God, it makes me cry
Let’s spread our wings and soar so high.

-Violet

Who Turned On the Control Panel?

Ihh, I do apologize for the cheesiness of this post's title. If I think of a better one I shall replace it. Anyway. You guessed it--this post is about that bane of the feminine world, CONTROL.

Not to say that men can't be abusive/oppressive/etc. But I've lately been reading the amazing book, Captivated by John and Stasi Eldredge, and one of the things they talk about is how part of "the curse" in Genesis is that women will always have a sinful desire to be in control, and how without God's grace they will ruin their own lives and the lives of others with their controlling ways.

Trust me, I know about control. Because, although my mom probably is completely unaware of what she is doing, and sees herself as training us up/upholding good standards/protecting us, etc., she is in actuality very, very controlling of my sisters and me. Oh, not directly, of course. Not with literal punishments or, most of the time, actual coherent words. Instead, the control my mom exerts is an emotional control--directing and inhibiting our decisions and actions by a disapproving look, a too pointed question, an emotional withdrawal, a deliberate silence. She's got this one particular routine that I'm trying to come up with a good name for--if she's especially displeased with something (and usually it is not known what) she'll like pass you in the hallway or something and not even say "Hi" or smile, but simply look at you with this resigned expression, like you're so degenerate she can't even talk to you about it. She makes us feel that it is almost literally a moral sin to sleep in "late" on a non-school/non-work morning (and by her definition, "late" is like, 8 AM) and also to stay up "late" (i.e. any time past about 10:00), thus controlling the hours we are available during the day and making those hours coincide with her personal schedule as much as possible. My mom constantly presents herself to us as an extremely busy woman who never, never has enough time to do all the many things required of her--and thus makes us feel that our days, just like her days, simply MUST be filled with endless and undying work, especially since, when we were little, she made the immense sacrifice for us of being a stay-at-home mom, and now we owe it to her to return the favor by devoting the majority of our free time to working in her house. She often assigns us major household projects the minute our school vacations begin--such as this time, when we were assigned to paint the office and downstairs bathroom in our house. We have a rigid system where we make food in bulk and freeze it, then pull a meal out of the freezer every night for supper--because of this, every other Saturday morning we are required to spend the morning cooking a bunch of meals. Right now, she's insisted on a major overhaul of the backyard (which we NEVER go in) and consequently my sisters, my father, and I have spent the past several weekends shoveling dirt and chopping away at trees and shrubbery until the backyard is practically a desert and we have a lovely fishbowl effect going on with a direct view of our neighbor's back yard. Awkward.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that we should just lounge about the house all day and never lift a finger to make supper or something--it's just that there are 5 women in our house, and there literally cannot be as much work as she believes there is. How did she take care of 4 little girls when she was the only woman around, if it was this hard? I literally feel like my mom creates jobs and perceived needs for us. And I also feel that she should understand that I am a 21-year-old single woman with absolutely no romantic "prospects" in sight, and also trying to finish college and work, and that my priorities right now might extend a little further than cleaning the bathrooms, etc.

So I seriously think it's all about control--the constant chores and work give my mom a way to keep us at home as much as possible, to monitor our activities, to mold our days and our schedules around her personal preferences, to ensure that her home is the center of our lives (not a desire to have a home of our own). I mean, if I am at home during the day and not doing some kind of useful task, I literally feel very uncomfortable! And not that everything we do at home is a waste of time--as I've described before, my family watches a precious 3-year-old during the day while his mom is at work. However, that still leaves the situation of one child and one house. Why are FIVE constantly working women required to keep this household at a functioning level? Control, control, control.

It's not just the housework, of course. Technically, we're allowed to choose our own clothing. But you can bet that if you buy something Mom doesn't like, you will be sent back to the store with a modesty lecture and a receipt marked "Return." She always said that when we were in college, we would be allowed to go where we wanted, when we wanted. But you can bet that if we just left the house without discussing our plans with her, we would return home to a "How could you not have told me?" "Where were you when I needed you?" "So where did you go?" or, if it's at any time past like 10, our poor tired dad sitting up in the living room waiting to make sure we were able to get home in the dark. And in theory, we're allowed to make our own media choices. But you can bet that if we bought an "unapproved" CD or movie, the comments would fly. This has been the consistent pattern throughout all of our adolescent and post-adolescent lives--for instance, past a certain point we were allowed to go on all the weekend & overnight youth group events at our church. But guess who always, always, ALWAYS volunteered as a cook or a driver or a chaperone.

Sometimes when I think about my mom, I'm reminded of this episode of The Dog Whisperer, where there was this beautiful collie dog (female, I think, interestingly) who felt that she had to be the "top dog" and the "pack leader" who was in control of everything that happened in "her" house. However, being in charge resulted in a lot of pressure on this dog, and she would literally freak out and bark uncontrollably at the smallest things, like the toaster popping up the toast. Cesar explained this dog's weird behavior by saying that because she felt she had to be in control, even the slightest disturbance in "her" house became a threat. It wasn't until he exerted some authority over the dog, communicating to her that she was NOT in control, that the dog started to relax and act normal. I've often wondered why my mom seems to always be so unnecessarily stressed (because, honestly, her situation, even with all the busyness, is, like 500x easier than that of the average woman worldwide). But now I think it's because she is like that collie dog--she feels she has to be in total control, and therefore anything and everything (us leaving the house without saying where we are going, us spending large blocks of time out of her sight, even me buying a new outfit) becomes a threat to that control.

PLEASE don't think that I'm writing all this to gossip or hurt or slander my mom. Because I do love my mom a lot. And there are a lot of good things about her. But, none of you know my mom and I would never say all this to her or to any of her friends or anything like that. But I feel that I need to write about this, because I grew up thinking that my parents knew "God's way" to do everything, and I think it's an important step for me to sort through my experiences and decide what was actually good and what wasn't.

Now comes the really hard part. I always thought of myself as being different than that. I always thought that because I never tell people outside of the family how to live their lives, have no sort of authority over anyone, and don't boss people around or assign them tasks, that I was not one of "those" controlling women. However, Captivated talks about another form of control--the women who become overly shy & unsocial, who never go out, who live in a very narrow sphere, and who never put themselves at risk emotionally, even for the benefit of another. And wow--that is SO me! I never realized that the whole shyness thing could be a form of control, but it's SO true! Of course, I understand that God gives everyone a specific personality, and that some people are naturally more introverted than others, etc., but seriously...I use the "introversion" excuse as a way to ensure that I have total control over my relationships with others. Even though my sister and I are visiting churches right now and thus this is somewhat justified, there's still something pretty ridiculous about the way I deliberately arrive at a church "fashionably late" and then make a beeline for the back door the moment the service is over. Am I afraid that someone new might talk to me, and thus disrupt my narrow circle of relationships? Even when I study on campus, I consistently avoid studying in more public places like the library cafe or the student center, but instead shut myself away in the "no talking" section of the upstairs library--that way I have the control of feeling certain that no one will interrupt my life by talking to me. I wear dark or neutral colors and unnoticeable clothing so I can slink around town in relative privacy (but in all honesty, anything that happens with my clothing is not entirely my fault. But that is another story.)

In the digital age, this is especially easy to do...you know, hide behind things like Facebook and email instead of actually spending time with actual people. And it doesn't help that my mother is super-incompentent socially and that I was raised with the general assumption that girls & women who spent time shopping, talking on the phone, or doing other activities with friends were frivolous, selfish, and wasteful, while "good" women stayed home with their immediate family as much as possible and spent a LOT of time doing church work and chores. (I mean literally--I still am afraid to talk to anyone on the phone for longer than 15 minutes!) Not to mention that this is one of the major cons of homeschooling (because there ARE cons--don't believe all those homeschooling advice books!)

But I want my life to be different. I want my life to center around relationships, and not around endless work. I'm not afraid to work hard, especially doing things that are actually necessary. But since I do not live on the 1800s American frontier, I believe that there is also time in life for leisure and fun and developing grace-filled relationships. But in order to do that, I'll have to relinquish the control that I have created in my life by being a shrinking violet who only ventures outside her immediate circle when she goes on a short-term mission trip. And I'll have to risk the emotional turmoil and lack of security that will inevitably result if I begin to center my weekends on something other than my mom's chore list. And both of those endeavors, are, quite frankly, rather terrifying.

-Violet

Poetry

Here is a poem of sorts that I wrote a few weeks ago. In all honesty, it is probably very naive and unrealistic...but I felt that I wanted to post it anyway.

"[Title That I Don't Have Yet lol]"

So late last night when I was home alone
And shaking out the laundry with a spark
You flashed into my mind and in the dark
I saw a world: talking on the phone

And walking in the rain, and telling one
By one our secrets, dining late at night
And staying snug in bed when it is light
And all those things that I have never done

‘Cause I am always outside looking in
But doing chores last night I swear I found
Our clothes together tumbling round and round
And closed my eyes and felt the world spin

‘Cause don’t you know, the night gets kind of cold
With echoes going round inside my head
I see my life and I feel kind of dead
‘Cause everything is safe and nice and old

Capri’s, vacations, pets, and weekend chores:
There must, there must be more to life than this
‘Cause it was really fun when we were six
But—dare I say it?—now I’m really bored

But maybe hope is shining like a star
‘Cause we are not entirely our fault
And just perhaps, beneath this echoing vault
Of sky you’re out there, bright and real and far

-Violet

My Mother's Dolls

In recent years, my mom has started a small business of her own in which she sews dresses for 18-inch dolls and sells them to other moms and doll collectors. Since my mom is a committed SAHM (stay-at-home-mother), this business has been a way to generate some extra cash for the family, with my mom still barely ever having to leave the house.
The evidence of my mom’s business is everywhere—when I come home from class, the remnants of the day’s photo shoot (to provide pictures of her merchandise for clients) are usually still set up in the living room, and every time I go into the laundry/sewing room to do some laundry, I behold her collection of “model” dolls, lined up in a row on a small white shelf, their smiling, painted faces showing how happy they are to simply wear the dresses my mom has made that day for them.
Please understand that I’m not trying to condemn my mom by saying this. There are a lot of really commendable things about my mom—for instance, she made a big sacrifice to stay home with us instead of pursuing a more lucrative career, and she currently babysits a 3-year-old completely free of charge, for a single friend while she is at work. And the fact that she watches this 3-year-old in addition to making the doll dresses and homeschooling her two remaining teenagers is quite a feat in and of itself!
I’m also not saying that it’s a bad thing for my mom to make these doll dresses. In fact, the extra income from her sales enabled my family to buy a very awesome camper which we could not otherwise have afforded.
I’m merely saying that whenever I look at those dolls, neatly lined up on the shelf waiting for her next creation, they strike me as a visual representation of the way my mom seems to want her life to be—a perpetual extension of the years when “helping Mommy vacuum” was a big treat, when walking to the playground with Mom was the highlight of the week, and when my sisters and I wore matching dresses and those horrible 90s hairbows. I’ve no doubt that my mom put her entire heart and soul into giving my sisters and me the best possible childhood. But the parenting techniques and general behavior patterns that she exhibits now, while no doubt very effective when we were little girls, are simply no longer applicable or even remotely helpful, now that we are all in high school or college.
I know that, in certain respects, I have a lot to be grateful for. For instance, although I still live at home, my parents have allowed me to attend a local, secular college, and they fully expect that I will get a full-time job outside the home when I graduate. So even if I never get to have a family of my own, I will at least one day have an income of my own. But the fact is that, very often, my life feels just as static, inexperienced, and immature as the life of one of my mother’s dolls. And my sisters and I desperately need my mom to see us for what we are: two almost-adults and two literal adults, whose dreams, needs, and preoccupations extend far beyond choosing between the pink and the purple dress.

-Violet