44 days…

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That ain’t no Cracker Jack toy!

Well, there it is, in all its blazing glory. Proof that, yes, I am indeed getting married in 44 days, to a man who cares about me very, very much.

Of course, the way I’ve been acting lately, you’d think that it wasn’t true. You’d think that I had returned to my 18 year old self, the one that constantly needed affirmation because she was constantly doubting every move she made. The self-proclaimed fatherless child who thought she’d never be anything other than just that.

Wait a second. Are we talking about the same girl? The one who has a small crowd of closet stalkers on her Facebook because she appears to always be so happy and laughing and cutely content with her man?

Steven could tell you a different story, but he wouldn’t. So I’ll tell it instead.

Yes, I will admit that we have a pretty doggone cute public relationship – and fully aware that we are the cause of at least one person vomiting a day. But what we are learning (and what we don’t always show people) is that I occasionally suffer from a disease.

It’s called Not-Good-Enough syndrome. Root word from Latin is pronounced Liesfromhell.

This syndrome creeps up on me when I least expect it, and it actually is not related in any way to the symptoms of Aunt Flow. (Although Aunt Flow does like to take this disease and escalate it into a battle worthy of Helm’s Deep.)

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This is me.

Did you know that there is a difference between a tire and wheel, but that a wheel and a rim are the same thing? Before yesterday, I sure didn’t. And apparently, this lack of knowledge was enough to send me into tears and exclamations of, “You deserve someone who knows and cares about what the hell a car is made of! Why do you want to marry me if I’m just going to end up disappointing you?”

This is just one example of the disease. Many days I have wasted time crying in his arms because I can’t believe that I am good enough for someone like him. That he might have fallen in love with me months ago, but that was when I had a job and could support myself. After 4 months of unemployment…do you love me now? (Thankfully, that has come to an end and I’m starting to get back on my feet financially.)  Five months ago when we started our journey, I weighed 15 pounds less…do you love me now? Even just in the last month, I have lost friends and gained new ones…do you love me now? I have challenged his integrity and distrusted his judgment and played hide-and-seek with his heart…do you love me now?

Is this what for better or for worse feels like?
Is this what being chosen feels like?

It’s so scary. I thought not being chosen was one of my worst fears, but now I find that actually being chosen scares me more. At least with not being chosen, there’s no one who could choose to leave me once I’ve failed one too many times to be that Proverbs 31 wife that he deserves.

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Easy, right?

But last night, after crying for what seemed like hours, Steven told me something shocking.

“I don’t want a Proverbs 31 woman, I just want you. All of you. The good and bad, up and down, for better or for worse. Will you share your life with me, just being you? I don’t want perfection, because you, Carly, are perfect to me.”

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My face.

Um, essscuse me?

Well. I guess those are standards I can meet.

So today, in this moment, I choose to say:

Money, I don’t serve you.

Weight, you don’t define me.

Disease, you are not the truth.

Love, you are going to shape me.

Patience, I’m going to require you.

Kindness, I need another serving.

Perfection, thanks for playing.

And if by chance you are the praying type, think of Steven. He’s going to need it. 🙂

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