The Search For the Perfect Purse

*I feel as though I need a disclaimer here:  Contrary to the title, this is not a self-absorbed, narcissistic post about a purse! Okay, it sort of is, but that's not the point to this post, I promise!*

I like to blend in.  I do not like to stand out, or draw attention to myself.  I shrink when others draw attention to me, and pass it off with self-deprecating humor.  I am understated, introverted, quiet (well, until you get to know me....), and a people pleaser, just eager to get along and make sure everyone else is getting along.  I don't talk outside of close company for fear of sounding like an uneducated idiot. I am anything but flamboyant:  a jeans, t-shirt and flip flops kind of girl.  I don't wear loud, bold colors.  I am not comfortable in my own skin. I don't like having my picture taken, and on the rare occasion I post "selflies" on Instagram, I usually hyperventilate first.  I shy away from sleeveless shirts, shorts, short skirts and dresses, or any kind of footwear that might make me stand out.  I am not trendy or chic. I don't keep up with the latest styles. I don't shop for name brands.  My hair has been the same basic style since high school.  It took me two years to find the sandals I bought yesterday because everything was either too trendy, too colorful, too high-heeled... Just too much not me.  Two years ago, when I was shopping for new glasses, I took a leap and went with pale pink frames.  The first week I wore them, I had to fight the urge to return them for something brown.  This year, I went back to my comfy (and by comfy, I mean psychologically comfy!) brown frames from three years ago.  When we bought the jeep, I parked as far away from every other car in the parking lots so people wouldn't see me getting in and out of this trendy, flashy, sporty vehicle.  I am a housewife:  I talk like a housewife, I dress like a housewife, I walk like a housewife.  I am not California city chic, I am Bealeton townie SAHM.  I just want to blend in.  I don't want to be noticed.

I don't accept compliments well, not even from those who love me, usually deflecting them with good ol' self-deprecating humor.  I laugh and reply they have to tell me these things because it's in the "contract."  I'm not good at accepting gifts, either.

Even as I stare down the barrel of 40, I have these thoughts in my head:  "That person is wondering what in the world a girl like me is doing in a flashy vehicle like this."  If I'm wearing a sleeveless shirt or a short skirt, it's "That person is wondering who lied to me and if I even bothered looking in the mirror before leaving my house this morning."  Parenting in public brings "That person is thinking I never should've been allowed to have children."  I don't go out without make up, because then I'm positive people are staring, wondering if I know how ugly I am.  In the gym, I'm hedging my bets that the fit, skinny, beautiful people are wondering what a fat*$%& like me is doing there, besides wasting my time.  Everywhere, in my head, people are judging me.  I know in my head that I'm not important enough for strangers to give me the time of day with things like this (and even if I am, why on earth do strangers thoughts matter to me?), but this is what the Enemy, and my heart do to me--or rather, what lies in my heart after years of hurt, and what I allow the Enemy of my soul to tell me.  I'm damaged goods.

Yes, I've been in therapy.  Yes, I've been on and off anti-depressants for years.  And you want the truth?  I was even hospitalized in college.  But medication, hospitalization, and even therapy to a point, aren't going to change me.  The change has to come from within.  In some ways, it's much like getting in a cold pool: You put your toe in first, realize how cold it is, then back out.  Whereas, if you jump in all at once, you adjust much faster and easier.  Instead of jumping into the pool of confidence and throwing caution to the wind, I repeatedly dip just my toe in, backing out while yelling "I DON'T LIKE THIS!"  It's about changing my way of thinking, being confident in who my Father has created me to be.  It's about being proud of His creation, proud to be His child (oh dear, pride is another entire post....).  I don't have that confidence, and I pray for it daily.  It shouldn't ever matter to me what others think of me, but only what my Father thinks.

Lately, flipping through magazines, I've been thinking to myself, "I should dress more like that."  I've been thinking I should take more care with how I look, how I dress, how I behave.  If I project confidence, I'll be confident, right?  If I project confidence and take myself more seriously, others will too, right?  And eventually I'll learn, right?  I really don't know what has lead to the "I should"'s, especially when my husband and friends love me as I am.

Sooo....  How in the world does a purse fit into all of this????

When it comes to purses, I'm an understated, Vera Bradley girl.  I have been for years.  I can walk into a store, pick it out in five minutes, and be done with it. Muted colors, cotton fabric, nothing flashy about it.  Usually a backpack, maybe a cross-body (the easier to chase Avery with), or something with long handles that hands off my shoulder and leaves my hands free.  Everything matches (purse, wallet, accessories).  Easy, simple, done.  Truth be told, it's so easy and simple, I haven't bought a new purse in years.

And now, my good old standby is falling apart.  She's showing some wear and tear, and needs to be replaced.  With that, I decided it was time to step out of my box, OUTSIDE OF MY COMFORT ZONE, and go with something different.  Something other than Vera Bradley.  *GASP*

I gotta tell you, being outside of my comfort zone is well, it's terribly uncomfortable!

As I was walking through stores this spring I noticed the bold colors of this season.  Oranges, yellows, pinks, blues, purples.  And they have handles (I've since learned these are called 'hobo bags.')!  Handles that you carry, which means your hands aren't free!  There are so many styles to choose from, so many colors to choose from!  Colors and styles that will make me self-conscious, and possibly even draw attention to me!

Store after store, I've met with disappointment.  There's even been an anxiety attack or two, and I've even cried.

Why am I putting myself through this (my family is wondering why I'm putting THEM through this....)? Why on earth don't I just go with the nearest brown leather handbag I see, or make a dash to the nearest Very Bradley retailer?  Man, if I had a solid answer to that, I'd have a purse by now!

I think I'm trying to prove a point to myself.  I can step out of my box and be okay with it.  I can still be Amy, and have a bold-colored purse.  I'm sure it seems like such a silly thing from the outside looking in.  To me though, it gets to the root of what ails me.  If I can have a flamboyant purse, maybe I'll learn some confidence. Maybe I'll learn to not care so much what others are thinking.

Will a bold, stylish, trendy purse automatically make me a more attractive, more confident person? Absolutely not.  I'm not foolish or stupid enough to believe that.

But I think at this point, it's the principle of the thing.  It's what the purse stands for.

I think this is one of God's lessons for me.  Step out of the boat, and be okay with it.  Be the person He created me to be, and be comfortable with it.  Learn that it's okay to stand out, it's okay to be confident; and not just learn it's okay, but it's what my Father wants for me.  It's okay to be okay.

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.” 
― Bernard M. Baruch