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Something really made me mad
over the weekend and in a matter of two seconds I was shocked, ticked, and I let it show. Among friends that we’ve had for almost a decade, I stood up for myself. I fought back and then was mad because I was put in that position in the first place. Truth, we were both wrong.
We drove home in the snow and I was hotter than a firecracker and quiet.
Later I found out our friends were practically rolling in the floor laughing over the whole thing. (Petite women can be scary and apparently funny when angered.)
Learning to stand up for myself
is huge for a girl who used to be so afraid of everything and everyone. Because of my history with seeing explosive anger in someone I thought should have known better and made me feel safer, I literally thought being angry only led to sin.
I had to relearn how to get mad at the right things, even feel the sting of it, and deal with it in a healthy manner that wouldn’t leave me bitter. It’s not being mad that is the problem; it’s what we do with it. Even stewing over something for hours and hours will only lead to toxic thinking that will effect every part of who we are.
“In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry,” (Eph 4:26 NIV)
Because I have lived through verbal abuse …
I know which things are a passive aggressive, sucker punch and better to just let it roll off. And, I know what words are abusive, controlling, and soul-crushing. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
I did what I normally do when I mad at home; I deep clean. I have given it a name, mad-cleaning. My mom does it. My sister does it. It’s just what we do. As I looked at my bathroom floors, and around my house, it dawned on me that if I got mad more often my house might look better.
What a beautiful realization that I am not easily angered. If I’m going to be mad it needs to be worth it.
I would rather mop the floors of my home than mop the floors of someone’s heart with a bad memory.
But, I have. I’ve gone all Madea on a person and have cried about it later.
Here’s what I know about sweet natured, Southern girls, when we actually tell someone off they usually cry because they’ve never seen you draw verbal boundaries because you’re supposed to be the nice one. (Face palm)
Fighting for others
is so much more important
than fighting with others
I’m passionate about standing up for others, especially those who have been abused, neglected, and have learned how to be invisible just to survive. I fight for all the broken girls; the girls sold into sex trafficking and used up. I fight for the battered mother who is eating less so she can feed her children and trying to make it on her own for the sake of her children.
I fight for this motherless and fatherless generation that is desperate for a love that doesn’t walk out the door when life gets hard.
I fight for the girl selling out to Hollywood, taking off her clothes because that’s all she thinks she has to offer.
We fight for the girls, not with the girls.
We stand with them, not against them.
We give our best words when they’ve lost their voice.
And we run into the darkness to give them hope of daylight because that’s what we do.
We bring the light and together we shine brighter.
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