Respect Your Husband

It’s time for… a controversial topic! Yay!

Some women believe that taking on their husband’s last name is A-OK. Other women believe that it should be mutual, and both spouses should take on the other’s last name. Other women like dashes. Some women just don’t want their husband’s last name at all.

I believe, and it blows my mind knowing other women don’t think this way, that every woman should take on the name of her husband. It baffles me that this is even a topic of discussion! (So why am I talking about it, right?)

We are all born with our father’s last name, for the most part anyway. Why? Because (again, for the most part), we live in our father‘s house, under our father‘s rules, under our father‘s protection, and under our father‘s supervision. Our father then gives us his blessing and then away to our husband but until then, we belong to our father. Once we are married, we belong to our husband, therefore we take on his last name. Then we will live in our husband‘s house, under our husband‘s rules, under our husband‘s protection, and under our husband‘s supervision. Our last name signifies who we belong to. Not as in property, but when you go home at night, whose house are you in? Who is responsible for you? etc.

Of course it’s not always like that anymore. But until we are married, we belong to our father. Once we are married, we belong to our husband. That is why we take on each man’s name. Submission and respect. Simple as that.

Advertisements

Reminders.

It’s so hard to concentrate when your mind is reminding you about certain things passed. How I felt owned- like my body was owned. I knew my physical body was not my own and if I didn’t feel that then I was soon reminded. Now I feel the need to be all alone and away from everyone so no one can touch me and where my body is my own.. where my body is mine.

A voice that starts as inviting, calming, and soothing, then becomes so demanding and confident that he is in control. Confident that I have no power. Confident that I am weak. And I was. I felt like I had nothing. Like I had no other choice but to listen to him and to do what he said or to suffer the consequences, which I wanted, but not that way.

Then eventually I ran to it. I ran to this dominating force because it made me feel wanted and desired and loved and important. And who doesn’t want that? So I did it to myself, didn’t I? Not long after, I couldn’t help myself. It was either be under the hand of this young man or be completely alone and I chose the former. For a while, though, I did choose to be alone. I thought there was something better coming. Some better things did come, but completely for the worse. They never lasted and the only one that was always there was him. So at times I did go back, with no intention of anything but just to say, “Hello” or to show gratitude. Whatever the reason was, it always ended up the same. With his control, with his dominance, with his strong hands and sweet voice, with my weakness, and with my submission.

Part of me still wants to go back. Sometimes this loneliness just consumes me and it just seems as if I’m wasting time. I could be happy and I could be with someone to take care of me and to care for me. But then my mind allows me to remember only some of what happened and I realize that it clearly is not a good idea.

But I don’t know why I feel this way sometimes. It’s been months and years… it’s like my mind just can’t let it go.

Again…

This semester is trying to kill me. On my first day of english, I found out that we were reading “Little Red Riding Hood.” Fine by me, right? However, we were reading the original version, written in 1697 (along with other 17th century versions). It is all about sex. And staying away from “wolves” that cause trouble, but this trouble is being “eaten.” I remember the first day I came to the class, I so desperately wanted to walk out. Things like this make me so mad. But praise the Lord, we are finally done with that story.

But now, oh NOW, in my other english class, we are discussing slavery. When you are discussing slavery, the terms “slave” and “master” get thrown around a lot. I don’t like that… Not to mention, one of the books we are discussing deals with a master trying to get his female slave to submit sexually to him. I hate this so much. I have been trying to work on an essay for this class and for about the past hour and I have not been able to focus because of this. It makes me think about everything… I hate it so much.

During times like this, I really have to lean on the Lord. My flesh so deeply desires to have a male to run and talk to for the physical support and comfort, but I know that’s not what I need. I need to run to God and pour out everything to Him. He is the only one Who can bring healing: mind, body, and spirit. God, I need You… Te necesito otra vez. Sometimes I wish I could fall asleep, wake up in Heaven, and just be there, lying in Jesus’ arms. Oh, how wonderful would that be! Nothing could ever bother me after an encounter like that. I know I have to trust in the Lord and really study His Word but of course, I’m at war. My spirit says to go to the Lord. He is my strength and my Strong Tower. My flesh says to go talk to someone. Someone who can make me “feel better.” Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with going to a man or woman of God for help. Goodness gracious, I don’t know where I would be without some of the lovely ladies I go to. But something’s telling me to go back to someone who will give me the same temporary satisfaction that requires a daily fill-up. No. Absolutely not. Seriously, ew. But something inside me wishes that there was a male that I could talk to. Someone who knows what respect is, gives it, deserves it, and knows that I do too. But I can’t tell if that’s selfish or not. I can’t tell if that’s my own fleshly desire or if that really should be my go-to for godly counsel. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter anyway, I guess.

Leaning on the Lord. I can’t let this attack take me.

Initial Release

This is from January 23, 2013.

Keep in mind that this is a rant. A non-grammar-checked or spell-checked rant.

I get so frustrated sometimes thinking about things that have happened before… I am over it and all is forgiven but sometimes the memories just come out of nowhere. Then my mind likes to play tricks on me. Making me think that this would happen or that could’ve happened. It’s terrible. And all I can do is think about it until it goes away or try really hard to focus my mind on something else. I don’t know why I put up with everything he said to me, everything he did to me. It was my own fault for continuously opening that door. I shouldn’t have. But that was “love.” He loved me and cared for me like no one else ever could or wanted to. He made sure I was always taken care of. How could I ask for anything more than that? So when he wanted something or demanded something, it was hard to say, “No.” And even when I did, it never really mattered, did it? No… it didn’t. He was the man, I was the woman, and I’d better have listened to everything he said and I better have done everything exactly the way he told me to. I couldn’t do anything wrong. I couldn’t make him mad. I couldn’t resist him. I couldn’t push him away. Even when I tried my hardest, it’s like he took all the strength away from me. I’d plead with him and try to get away but I couldn’t. He had me. How could someone tell you they care for you when they completely disrespect you? He could’ve bought me a house, a new car, and a diamond ring but to disrespect me? That’s no form of “love.” And I don’t know why I didn’t see it. “Distance makes us wise.” So when I did realize it and when I actually got the respect I deserved, I couldn’t handle it. I still can’t handle it. I am still waiting for the day when I realize that the wool has been over my eyes this entire time. But it’s not like that. I know it’s not like that. But I’m not sure how to handle the most perfect situation I have ever been put in. Especially when memories from before decide to creep in and especially when I am waiting for the day where I am re-convinced that every male in this world thinks the same things, says the same things, and lacks respect and consideration for females. But it’s not true. I know it’s not true. It can’t be true- are you kidding me? The way I’ve been feeling lately has been an all-time high and I can’t even begin to describe it. I just hope that all this goodness will one day drown out all of the madness from before. It’s not fair that I can’t be completely happy and focused. “Back then” just needs to die already.