Don't Accept Me As I Am - A Short Story

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           This is based as a continuation to the story: 

I didn't fall in love with you - I fell into infatuation

** A Short Story - Work of Fiction **

    I hear all the time, "Just accept me as I am! Take it or leave it!"

   Some applaud this sentiment. "That's right! You tell them! Be yourself!"

   But you didn't accept me as I was... I'm grateful for that.

   There was a time before you loved me, where all I wanted was for you to accept me. That was at the height of my infatuation - a time where everything seemed light - exciting - happy. It was a time where I felt like nothing ever would come between us.  I wanted to see the appreciation in your eyes. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted you to love me.

   And in time... you did. 

   We grew into love as we grew into trust. It was hard sometimes - truly loving you... truly letting you love me... The more we grew in love, the more we saw each other as we truly were - two broken people. Two broken people who each brought along our own struggles and problems.

   I remember the first time you told me, "You're hurting yourself."

   It was true... but I'd fought this problem alone for so long. It had been years since anyone had confronted me on this. I had let it become a part of me - even when it sunk me into darkness. I didn't believe that it was something I could change. Not anymore.

   I remember the fear that plunged into my chest so hard I shook; the anger that warmed my cheeks. The way I screamed - "Why can't you just accept me as I am?"

   I wanted to be accepted. What I didn't understand was how much I needed to be loved.

   Love doesn't look the other way as someone drinks poison. Love doesn't nod in agreement as someone stumbles off a cliff. Love doesn't try to cover gaping wounds with a bit of makeup and pretend the blood isn't crusting beneath.  Love wraps around the person - despite it all... but doesn't hide from the problem. Love doesn't accept the problem as healthy.

   You - you loved me.

   You never accepted my poison as good for me. You didn't accept me as I was in that moment... but you loved me where I was. You loved me enough to show me I was tearing myself apart. You didn't leave me alone. You brought me to God.

    We learned of each other's broken parts - the ones that infatuation hid for awhile, but Trust dragged out into the light. The way I avoided conflict until I exploded. The way you let anger cloud your judgement... All the ways we could take each other for granted, or use our words as weapons, or let our insecurities pull us apart.  

     It was in those moments we learned how to run to God together. It was a painful learning. We were far from perfect. We were far from always having it figured out. Love, trust, vulnerability - it takes being open to grow those... and it takes honesty to keep them alight.

    So we learned to pray together - to take our hurts to His Throne and ask for forgiveness.  We learned to find comfort in The Word, and seek wisdom within its pages. We learned more and more how broken we are - but how much more Good and Faithful God is. We learned to grow closer to God in the midst of our brokenness... We didn't accept this was all we'd ever be.

    We didn't accept each other where we were - but we loved each other through every step.

     I never truly needed you to accept me. What I needed was to love and be loved. What I needed was to be reminded of the love God has for me - no matter what... I see that kind of love reflected in the way we love each other.

    You didn't accept me as I was... I'm grateful for that.

~Ophelia - Marie Flowers

*Author's note-

       Again - this is not a story of  my own  romantic relationship experience, but it is written as one who knows friendships... and as one who is trying to write how I feel when I think about this.

    I admit to cringing almost every time I see, "Accept me as I am! Take it or leave it!"

   I understand the sentiment. I do. But part of me still winces.

    No. Please. Don't accept me as I am.  Please - don't accept me as I am. I don't need you to accept me as I am. Love me where I'm at... but have the strength to show me how to grow... Don't accept that this is all I'll ever be. 

      Some of my dearest friends are the ones who love me - truly love me - enough to not accept me totally as I am. I'm broken too - like you - like everyone else in this world... I want to be accepted, but what I really need is to be loved enough by others to be told, "Hey... I don't think that was a wise choice." ... "I care about you - so I need tell you that I think you're hurting yourself this way." ... "I know something's wrong. How can I pray for you?"

     We need to be that type of friend to each other... We don't need to learn to accept each other's poisons. We need to learn to love each other in the midst of them.

      Love me enough to help me grow in Christ. Let me love you enough to do the same for you. Let's show each other the Love of the Father.

I didn't fall in love with you - I fell into infatuation - A Short Story

Original Picture From Pinterest

** A Short Story - Work of Fiction **

     They always ask me, “How did you fall in love?”

     That seems like a silly question... I've lived enough to realize I didn't fall in love. Maybe some people do, but we certainly didn't. No, I didn't fall in love with you.

     I fell into infatuation.

     It was born of admiration and idealistic notions, wrapped in the way you laughed and how, when you smiled, I wanted that smile to be at me. It was born of watching you speak, with confidence and compassion, and tangled with the way you calmly fixed problems. It was born of my longing for companionship, and yet peppered with my insecurities that said, “You're only maybe good enough for him.”

    Infatuation is a crazy creature. It knows it may not have a shot, but it's insanely curious. It reads into every teasing smile, every quick hug, every chance encounter. It hopes for lofty dreams of being totally loved and accepted, but doesn't much dwell on any hard work involved. Infatuation just.... imagines the best, with all the warm fuzzies. Infatuation, ah, it was full of colors and daydreams of tomorrows, even though I hardly knew you. All I knew was that I wanted to, no matter what it took.

    So I tried for your attention. You didn't at first take much notice... but I watched from a distance and tried a little harder. Finally you got the hint – it still makes me laugh as I remember the moment you finally understood I was interested. We talked awhile and then a little while more... for days, and then weeks. You made me laugh – I made you think. We talked about the world, God, and all our funny little wonderings. We opened up our hearts and began to be real...

    Then I fell out of infatuation... And grew into love.

    Loving you was harder... That first time we fought, I thought I'd mangled things beyond repair. I sobbed so hard I could hardly breathe. Part of me wanted to hide - that would be the easy way out. Part of me wanted to run away to a time before you... But I couldn't. It scared me... imagining life without you. And I realized, no matter how much it hurt, I was willing to fight for our friendship... There were difficult times, but I truly loved you in-spite of it... and I could see you loved me too.

     I apologized. You apologized... It really was a stupid little thing, knotted with misunderstandings. Hours of sorting out later, and we were once again friends. Just a little smarter.

     But that wasn't the only time we had a misunderstanding... And that wasn't the only time that loving you was painfully hard... I battled jealousy. I battled my fear of you leaving. I battled my fear of hurting you.... You had your own insecurities you brought.... Still, by God's grace we grew closer together. Loving you was hard, but it was so much better than infatuation.

     Love was born of knowing you – trusting you...

     It was born of sharing my deepest longings – then being shown what you were passionate about. It was born of tested promises, and wrapped with the long talks we had about life. Love was born of a dozen and a half times we apologized, and interwoven with the trust that grew. Love was born of being willing to sacrifice my time and my plans, and seeing you do the same for me. Love was born of aching under your sadness, and asking God to be your strength. Love was born of both joys and pains – growing stronger with every act of trust.

     I fell into infatuation, but I grew into love. That's what I tell people when they ask about falling in love.

Part 2 - Don't Accept Me As I Am

~Ophelia - Marie 

*Author's note - Admittedly, I've never been in a relationship - but I do know what it's like to be infatuated. And, in a friendship sense, I know what it's like to love - to struggle through the painful bits, and the misunderstandings, and yet only grow closer through it all... So, though this isn't a story I've experienced, I still feel qualified enough to write it. ;) I hope you enjoyed it... Maybe it made you think....

See - infatuation doesn't ask anything of you. Love does. Love takes work and self sacrifice. When you love someone, you are opening yourself up to the potential of getting hurt - they see you clear enough to know how to hurt you... When you love, you are agreeing, in a sense, to give up some of what you want, for their best, and to be there for them, no matter how you feel... But you do so because it's worth it... to know and and be known, to love and be loved... To love, in a pale reflection of the way God does. 

 Infatuation takes a moment's fancy - Love takes time and experience to grow.

Blog Tour: Meet My Main Character

          I've been tagged by Theodora Ashcraft to participate in this blog tour to share about a current Main Character. Theodora has published a book of short stories and poems entitled, Of Whispers and Wanderings, and has been published in the anthology, Heralds of Courage. Go check out those links!

         Now to answer questions about my main character... 

1) What is the name of your character? Is he/she fictional or a historic person? 

My main character is named Elmirzah Tay. She is a fictional character, for the most part.

2) When and where is the story set? 

Hmm, that is a hard question, haha... The story is set in a fictional world that is mostly like modern America, but has a sense of Fantasy to it. 

3) What should we know about him/her?

Elmirzah is a empath. When she is barefoot, she can feel others emotions if she touches them and they in turn can feel hers. Not many people know about her ability, since she has been taught to be very careful with it. Throughout the story, she tries to both keep the ability under check, so others emotions don't overwhelm her, and to use it to help those who are hurting. As she meets others who are like her, it becomes difficult to always distinguish what emotions are hers and which emotions belong to those around her. 

   She is afraid. She is afraid, once she has made deep connections with people, that they will leave. She is willing to do almost whatever it takes to keep those she loves around her. She is afraid that her caring help of others is never good enough, and struggles with doubting herself. She is loyal to a fault, even when that means she gets hurt.

She talks to herself. A lot. Jesseren is almost like an imaginary friend to her - someone who can argue her out of bad moods, and who can give practical sense advice when Elmirzah knows she is being unreasonable/frustrated. While she is careful not to talk to Jesseren out loud when people are around, Jesseren still sometimes "shows up" uninvited and argues with Elmirzah mentally... Jesseren can have as much of a 'mood' as Elmirzah but for the most part she is the calmer reflection of Elmirzah.

She is a writer - a lot of her story centers around that fact.

4) What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?

 Well... that's kinda complicated. (Haha.) I suppose I'd have to say that this story is one about journeys in friendship, and the lessons she learns about herself and others. How to deal with others pain, how to open up to others, how to deal with loss when friendships end. There isn't one 'main' conflict - it's more a stream of her learning to live with who she is, and accept that the world's weight isn't meant to rest on her shoulders.

5) What is the personal goal of the character?

To be a good friend. To make a difference in others lives. 

6) Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it?

Of Darker Dreams is the current title. The story that started this idea is: Dark Mirror Souls.

I have several story blips written on my Pinterest board :

           She brushes a hand against my arm, but pulls it away as I jerk back. "I... have a sense something isn't right." 

"I'm fine," I whisper, wrapping my arms around my chest. 

She reaches for me again and pulls me close. "No... you're not."

7) When can we expect the book to be published? 

Umm, never? ;) Sorry. I may share parts of it on my blog, but other than that, this is a story mostly for my own private enjoyment, and need to write it. If I finish it, I might make a few proof copies for a few select people,  but as I'm only two chapters in, that's a long way off. 

Now to tag some people... 

I'd like to tag Jacob Zozzaro. Jake writes music and fantasy and shares it over on this blog:

Fantasy Stories and Music by JAZ

One of my favorite songs he's written is entitled, Harmony's Fading Winter. 

The second person I'd like to tag is Trista Vaporblade. Trista has self published her first book, Quest for the Swords of Healing, and is hoping to publish her book, Ranger, within the next couple months.

You can find her blogging here: http://tristavaporblade.blogspot.com/ or follow her FB page :

https://www.facebook.com/TristaVaporblade

That's all for now. :)

~Ophelia - Marie 

Dark Mirror Souls - Short Story

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Dark Mirror Souls 

6/18/14

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You find me crouched beneath the Willow tree with my knees pulled tight to my chest. Without a word you lower yourself to the ground a few feet away, your eyes never meeting mine as you search the horizon. Calm – you always seem so calm... almost happy even. Heh, but I know that's a lie.

I clench the side of my tongue with my teeth, letting the pain press back the need to cry. It's not hard enough to draw blood, just hard enough to distract myself a little... It's not nearly enough...My sides still sting from where I raked my fingernails down them in a vicious attempt to dull the weight building in my gut. The marks are there – pronounced and red against my pale skin, but safely hidden beneath my shirt. I deserve them.

       “I promised I'd never forget.” The words come out with a strangled choking sound. I hunch my shoulders inward as another wave of grief and bitterness hits me. The memories slash through my mind with images – both good and bad. The good ones are almost the worst, 'cause I know they'll never be that happy again. No, never that happy, and yet, the thought of forgetting seems more painful – terrifying - than remembering.

        Your fingers clench and relax, clench and relax. You don't meet my eyes as you sigh, your voice resignedly weary. “Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to relive your memories over and over until they slowly kill you.”

    “Yeah, and what would you have me do?” I let out a pained laugh, willing you to look up and face me. “What? Be like you and simply pretend it never happened? Act like things are fine and stuff all the emotions away?”

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It's a unfair blow. You snap straight, but don't look over. “Would you rather I be like you? Sobbing about what you can't change?” A deathly calm tone steals over your words. “It was nice while it lasted – a real blessing – but I can't get it back. Never. Memories are knifes – either you hold them by the handle, or you hold them by the blade. The handle serves its purpose – it'll keep my hands from getting bloody.” Your body begins to tremble slightly as you whisper, “I can't fix what happened; shutting down is the only way I know how to survive any more.”

          Survive? There used to be a time when we thrived. A time where we laughed and dreamed and told stories. But that was then – now is just raw regret. Regret that slides through my mind and mocks me with all I should have done. Too late now.

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       My screams are sharp and wild as another wave of emotional pain tears at my insides. Your placid gaze remains trained on the distance, but the trembling is getting worse. I double over with the colored memories driving behind my eyes, blurring my vision. You sway back and forth, hissing under your breath, “It's okay. It doesn't matter any more. It's for the best. I don't mind. It'll get better. I just don't want to talk about it. It's okay. Okay. Okay.”

      Memories implode. Oh, the times I was told it'd all be okay. Lies. I lunge at you, shrieking, “It's not okay!”

 

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     You grab me by the wrists and finally meet my eyes. Blue eyes, perfect duplicates , filled with unshed tears – filled with the terror of loss. Our reflections blink at each other, before dissolving together.

      For a moment, I stop breathing... for a moment, I pant as my heart pounds against my ribs...

      In the silence, I know....I've been talking to both sides of myself. The side that relives the pain over and over, and the side that acts like everything's okay... Both are poisoned and dying... I don't know what part of me will make it past this... or if anything will.

I sob.

Owl City - 'Wolf Bite'

~Ophelia - Marie

Always - Shared Post

           Theodora Ashcraft is a young writer and a dear friend of mine. She has published a book of short stories and poetry, "Of Whispers And Wanderings " and next week I will be sharing how you can enter a drawing for a signed copy of her book, as well as a few others.  (USA participants only, sorry. ) 

    I'd like to share with you today a short story Theodora wrote back in September. It was partly inspired by a poem I wrote,  Still Will He Hold, and really captures the reminder that God loves us, even when we fail.


       The rain falls in the dusk, a whispering cascade of droplets cold against my face.

      I huddle in the corner; against a boulder. Tears stream down my face, and I tremble.

      I can hear Him approaching. My heart pounds in my head. I’m all too aware that He knows where I am; He always does. But I hold onto the vain hope that perhaps He doesn’t this time.

                                                   Click to continue reading...

 

Dreamer - Short Story

Original Picture from Flickr, Gary Simmons

Dreamer

4/26/12

    Sarlun woke up to the sound of her screaming. Before his half-awake mind could register what was happening, he flung himself out of bed, fists raised. Her high, terrified screams easily pierced through the thin walls that separated their rooms. An eerie pause of silence filled air for a few seconds, then the sound of sobs came from the other room.

     Moonlight shown dimly in from his small window, enough for him to take in everything at a glance. Sarlun's shoulders slumped as he came fully awake. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed as she screamed again. 

    It'd been two weeks since last time... he had hoped – No. He had known... Perhaps it was selfish that he had tried to make himself believe she had been fine this past week since she hadn't woken him...but when you can't do anything, sometimes your mind tries to tell you things are getting better.

     Another sob came, then faded into low whimpers that could barely be heard. Sarlun sighed. He should try to go back to sleep; tomorrow was going to long enough without him staying up half the night.

      He cared too much to do that.

      He stood and crossed the room. Quietly opening his door, he walked into the dark hallway. Her door was cracked, just barely, and he pushed it open.

     His chest clenched at the sight of her.

     Oh Kalla.

     The small girl lay on her bed, curled in a fetal position. The patchwork blanket was twisted around her body and her pale hair was wet with sweat. She whimpered again and the sound rose into a wail before abruptly cutting off. Tears tracked down her face and her hands grasped fistfuls of the blanket.

      Sarlun crept silently into the room and took the three legged stool from the far corner. Placing it in the center of the room, he sat on it and took a shaky breath. She cried out again, this time quieter, and he clenched the tip of his tongue between his teeth. A familiar ache welled up in his stomach as he watched her... He was helpless....

     "My dear little sister..." The whispered words hung in the air, and he took in another shuddering breath.  It hurt to watch her.

   She had been eight years old when he found her almost a year and a half ago - a thin, dirty, wide eyed orphan who had tried to steal his allowance from his pocket. He had been thirteen – a sidetracked boy in the market, trying to find his mother the perfect gift for her birthday. That day he brought his mother home a daughter, and gained himself a little sister.

     At first his parents had tried to convince Kalla to sleep in one of the nicer rooms in the large new addition, but when Kalla found out Sarlun's room was in the attic she wanted to sleep there. They set her up in the little room next to his, though they made it clear that if she wanted to be downstairs in the room next to theirs they would be glad to have her.

     That first night had been much like this one. Sarlun had woke up to the sound of her screaming, only that time he had run straight into her room and tried to shake her awake.

      She had sat up and looked at him with clear, tear filled eyes and smacked him hard across the face. As he gaped at her in stunned silence, she had hissed in a trembling voice, “Never wake me from my dreams.” Then she had started crying again, clinging to him and whispering, “I hate to sleep, but I must dream. I must! I must! I must!” He had awkwardly wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. “They need me. I have to dream!”

       A Dreamer... not many would trust another with that kind of secret. Maybe it was because she was young, maybe it was because she was a girl, but for whatever reason Sarlun was not afraid.

    “I'll never tell,” he had whispered into her hair.

    Then, because he hadn't known what else to do, he sang to her the song his mother used to when he was small.

“Rest, little one,

Quiet your cries.

Listen to the sound

Of gentle lullabies.

Tomorrow is coming

So lay down your fears.

May the light of the dawning,

Dry all of your tears.”

    They never talked about that first night, and he never woke her again... Yet on the nights she woke him, he came into her room and sang until her cries softened.

     Even one as powerful and distrusted as a Dreamer deserved someone to comfort them.

~Ophelia - Marie

 (If you'd like to read the rest of the song, you can see it here: Lullaby Rest)

  

Copyright © 2013 Ophelia M. Flowers

'Taken Captive ' and Other Thoughts

Original photo from Flickr

 

 

Hold on. I'm about to ramble and throw lots of links. ;)

 

     I've been listening to The Struggle  and Empty My Hands by Tenth Avenue North a lot lately. Thinking about struggling, about failing, about... going back to old patterns I thought I could get rid of on my own...

"There's a wreckage, there's a fire,
There's a weakness in my love,
There's a hunger I can't control.
Lord I falter and I fall down,
 And I hold on to the chains you broke
When You came down and saved my soul.
Save my soul.

 

Hallelujah,
We are free to struggle.
We're not struggling to be free!
Your blood bought and makes us children -
 Children drop your chains and sing!"

-The Struggle

 

 

"I've got voices in my head and they are so strong.
And I'm getting sick of this, oh Lord, how long
Will I be haunted by the fear that I believe?
My hands like locks on cages
Of these dreams I can't set free.

But if I let these dreams die,
If I lay down all my wounded pride,
If I let these dreams die
Will I find that letting go lets me come alive?

 So empty my hands,
Fill up my heart,
Capture my mind with You."
 

-Empty My Hands

                     That last bit is really my prayer... I want my hands to be empty of the things that I don't need in my life, my heart to be full with the love and peace God can supply, and my mind - my whole self - to be captured with Jesus.  Oh for grace to trust Him more...

                    God has been showing me, over and over again that He loves me. He understands that I stumble and fall down, but He loves me anyways... Some days though, I hold on to the broken chains and cry out at their weight... He has to keep reminding me I don't have to lug them around anymore. He has set me free, and I am His handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for me to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

 

 

                   This is a quote from one of my favorite fantasy series:

                  "Although the key to the lock has been provided, they refuse to employ it, even those who verbally profess the same faith. They hold onto the chains, because a faithless life seems easier to them than the sacrificial suffering that you and every other oracle* is called to live. They even drag those chains and moan about their weight, yet they still refuse to let them go, even though they are told time and again that every lock has been rendered powerless by the Lord Christ. " - The Bones of Makaidos Page 344.

(* This word could also be written as 'Christian' in my opinion, but in the story, the person being spoken to is an Oracle. )


                 This short story called 'Taken Captive' by Hannah Rebekah on  her blog  is the reason I ended up starting this post.  It reminded me of those two songs, and all the other thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head.

              “But I’m here to free you anyway.”

             The words stop me in my tracks.  My brain freezes, unable to continue its line of thought.  A question rises to my lips, “Why?”  He pauses before he speaks again, and a look of pain is etched on his face.  He’s disappointed in me again.  I’ll never get it right.

             “Because I love you.  Don’t you understand that yet?”

             Loves me.  No, loved me.  Before I messed up again, before I ruined what we had.  There’s no way he can love me now.  And there’s no way he’ll ever pay my debt again, not after what I did to him.

              “You’re wrong,” he says simply, as if he can read my mind.

             “You can’t pay my debt this time,” I say.  “I won’t let you go through that again, not for me.”

             “I don’t have to.”

             What?  Of course he had to.  That is, if he really did want me to be free again.

             “I paid for it all last time.  I knew what you would do, and I covered that when I set you free the first time.  You are the only person keeping you here.”

                                                                                         Click to read the whole story...

 

 

Hebrews 4:14 - 16

            ¹⁴ Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. ¹⁵ For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. ¹⁶ Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

 

Romans 7:14 - 8:4

         ¹⁴ We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. ¹⁵ I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. ¹⁶ And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. ¹⁷ As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. ¹⁸ For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. ¹⁹ For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. ²⁰ Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.
            ²¹ So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. ²² For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; ²³ but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. ²⁴ What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? ²⁵ Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!
          So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.

Chapter 8

 

            1 Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, ² because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. ³ For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering.  And so he condemned sin in the flesh, ⁴ in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

             Ah, that word, 'Therefore'... God has delivered me through His Son, Jesus Christ, who paid for my sins and therefore there is no condemnation for those who are children of God. My chains are gone, I've been set free - my God, my Savior, has ransomed me - and like a flood His mercy reigns, unending love, amazing grace.  And, with that knowledge, may I know and follow hard after Him, and grow as His disciple in the truth.  Ah friends, strive onward, for if God is for us, who can stand against us? Nothing can separate you from the love of God, (Romans 8:31 -39) , so let go of your chains and seek to live a life of freedom in His grace. He won't test you beyond what you can bear - with Him.

 

 

 

Change My Life, by Ashes Remain

 

 

~Ophelia - Marie