Breaking Habits By Chavon Barry When nightmares pursued me I opened my mouth to yell and scream But sound never arrived only a puff of air I guess it makes sense. Every day I wore silence like a closed coat with a broken zipper Like a scarf with a knot even a knitting needle couldn’t untangle. I’d have to cut it off. But how? How do you step outside the clothes you wear? How do you change when what’s familiar is strangling you but feels safer than being naked. Learning to Write NakedFirst published in Bread and Thread Naked. Do you remember being a child in the swimming pool change room? When wrinkled women with saggy bottoms and less-than-perky breasts walked free as daisies. They showered and chatted about their daily routines, unashamed. Comfortable in their skin.
Me? I wrapped my towel around my body and slid each piece of my bathing suit off and pulled every layer of clothing on. Not even the tiniest sliver of pink flesh would be exposed. I didn’t want anyone to see me. And in many ways, that fear permeated the rest of my life. “Does she know how to talk?” an adult visitor whispered to my aunt. In public the answer was, “Not really.” I became a professional at avoidance, silence and fading into the background. I even convinced myself that it was good, godly, humble. A friend’s mother told her daughter, as we sat side by side at the dinner table, “Why can’t you be more polite, like Chavon.” And to be honest, I kind of lived for moments like that. I was so good at hiding she noticed. Maybe this is the story of many writers, artists and actors who find their voice on the page, the canvas or the stage. Their observations of the world need a path out. My high school English teacher gave me one. He invited a close-lipped teen to read her stories to the class. Words sprang out of my mouth and, for once, I was seen and it didn’t scare me. Talking in a crowd off-script was still messy though. Too easy to make a mistake, to accidentally expose some flesh. Carefully chosen habits die hard. In university, I wrote and wrote and wrote but never spoke in class. I lost 20% of my mark again and again because I couldn’t participate in group discussions. I couldn’t. I’d have to write perfectly and earn the other eighty. One professor pulled me aside. She said, “Chavon, you’re a sleepy student. Your writing; however, it’s quite good.” I listened not sure if I was being lectured or complimented. She seemed uncertain too. I thought time would be the magic cure. I’d suddenly grow up and drop the towel. The anxiety would disappear and I’d be free. In some ways it did, I married the boy. I studied to be a teacher (Go figure). I got a bit braver. I birthed three boys naked. But negative thoughts swirled in my head. And I remained passive and silent in too many areas of my life. I stopped writing. My circle of friends remained small. And work left me isolated. The towel that once felt safe became so tight I couldn’t move. I blamed my faith and, in some ways, rightly so. It encouraged me to be humble, to choose the quiet path, to promote another’s needs above my own and to be perfect as Christ was perfect. It’s confusing when every effort to follow the rules leads you further down a lonely road. Where you look left and right and there is no one but you and your constructed pedestal. Did I win the humble race? Have I kept the peace? Am I invisible yet? Is God pleased? I didn’t realize the deep, raw anger that slowly rooted itself inside me. And then my childhood nightmares became a reality that silence couldn’t fix. When you're running for help the scream needs to be heard. I know now that the urge to go to a bible study, the letter I typed outlining every way the Christian faith didn’t work for me, and the new friends who leaned in to pray were all the Holy Spirit whispering, “Wake up, Chavon. It’s time to wake up.” And to be frank, it wasn’t a television roll-out-of-bed, hair styled, face-powdered wake-up. It was messy. It was me sobbing in the middle of a stunned group of strangers. Determined to skip the jargon, I let the words spill out as honestly as I could. I wrestled with God. My weapon was my pen and I invited others to read my jumbled thoughts. There were many sleepless nights tossing and turning. The words didn’t fall out ‘just right’ and I relived every awkward prayer after awkward prayer. I was an addict and silent perfection was my substance. It seems trite to say but the withdrawal was real and my desperation to escape the pain overwhelming. But once the words were out I couldn’t take them back. To drop the towel hurt more than I could ever have imagined. To say, “Here’s me naked and broken and my life isn’t all edited, pretty and perfect. It’s sad and hard” was one of the toughest things I have ever done. But in this place, God grew me up. Showed me how to change what I thought could never be changed. To see that my body came with lungs, a diaphragm, a tongue, lips and a voice box for a reason. To know that my humanity, my story, and my limits—pink flesh and all—don’t scare God. He walked in a body that would experience brokenness too. I was the one afraid to look at myself. God never turned his eyes away. The path is long and I will probably continue to be awkward. But like those women in the swimming pool change room, there is beauty in the imperfection. A hint of wholeness. God hears our flawed prayers and answers.
19 Comments
This is beautifully written!
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Chavon
1/19/2021 09:36:28 pm
Thanks for taking the time to read and to comment Britta. Amen!
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2/2/2021 07:54:50 pm
Beautifully written! Love the line, “there is beauty in the imperfection.”
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Chavon
2/3/2021 03:27:45 pm
Isn’t it so healing to realize this!
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Amber
2/5/2021 10:52:26 am
It is not often that a blog post makes me cry. I can relate more than I can even put into words. Thank you for writing this!
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Chavon Barry
2/5/2021 03:16:45 pm
You are so welcome Amber. Thank you for reading and for letting me know that these words meant something to you. At just the mention of tears, my eyes leaked a little too.
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Melody of the Dawn
2/5/2021 11:57:29 am
Love your vulnerability and description of your journey throughout the lines and the progression of the word picture of naked and unashamed before God. I've gleaned so much from studying God's Word the past 7 years asking the simple question, "Does God care about clothes?" I started thinking for sure I knew the answer...but then in the first few chapters of Genesis, God blew my mind when he showed me how amazingly loving and gentle was his act to become the first clothing designer, and create animal skins to clothe Adam and Eve's nakedness...I think you would be blessed to look at this story as clothing and nakedness as concepts to symbolize many parts of your own journey. I used to live in S. Korea and public baths are very common. There is no clothing allowed and all kinds of beauty in diversity. It really freed me from many of my issues with accepting myself in all of its pink glory. I have another friend who sites her time living in Japan and going to Japanese public baths with friends as one of the main ways God healed her from her eating disorder. There is something to nakedness that is healing especially with other women. Difference is beautiful, and yet we are all women. Until my experience at those baths and then breastfeeding my son when I learned that there were multiple kinds of breasts and all could feed their children...America is known for homogenizing things where we only think apples are red and green and tomatoes are only red, and then visit a farmers market and see purple heirloom tomatoes and yellow and variegated apple skins. Women's bodies are skinny or fat or short or tall breasts are big or flat...when there is so so much more organic beauty to each of us. This was beautifully written and good to reflect on. Blessings, Melody
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Chavon Barry
2/5/2021 03:13:32 pm
I'm sitting here all goose bumpy and thankful for your comment Melody. I've been thinking a lot about Adam and Eve and how God clothed them. And I love what you say about how "America is known for homogenizing" and how you describe the beautiful diversity at Farmer's markets and in the South Korean and Japanese baths. There is something healing about nakedness (especially with other women and especially that we are different). You invited me into a lovely conversation and filled my mind with good thoughts. Thank you.
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Melody of the Dawn
2/7/2021 09:49:57 am
So so blessed by your writing and reflections. Your a dear one Chevon and I hope we can be ‘virtual friends’.
Chavon
2/6/2021 07:41:45 am
Nope I haven’t published a book. This is the first article I’ve published in a publication other than my own. I just started writing again after a long break and I’m not quite sure where it will lead. Your words encourage me to keep going though. Thank you!
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2/5/2021 09:08:25 pm
Love this. The writing really drew me in with great imagery and truth. You also brought up my awkward memory of the very old French lady who got naked at a lake right in front of us. I have actually known a lot more elderly comfortable in their own skin compared to myself. However, I am working on being more comfortable in my own body and really stepping out there. Just not in the literal sense.
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2/7/2021 05:55:07 am
I love your beauty and honesty here. The poem speaks loudly and your story grips the heart. I can certainly relate to much of what you said, especially regarding the desires to be silent and fade into the background. Writing was a great release for me in that regard as well. You're certainly not alone in that. Thank you for your openness and for expressing your heart.
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2/7/2021 02:04:46 pm
This is an amazing piece of writing. I couldn't stop reading. Thank you for putting to words what my soul has often felt!
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Meghan Villatoro
2/7/2021 09:01:13 pm
Wow I can really relate to that story about not being comfortable being naked! It's like you were describing me!
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2/8/2021 02:43:47 am
Yes, He sure does! You are beautiful sweet sister and what God puts down inside of you, let it out to bless the world. He has much to say ... ❤
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2/8/2021 09:31:53 am
So beautiful and raw. You tell your own story but it gives a voice to others.
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2/9/2021 08:30:59 pm
This write-up is so amazingly beautiful. Keep up the good work
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Anita Murray
4/16/2022 07:36:34 am
Beautifully written Chavon. So proud of you. Be brave. Be strong. Be you! Love Grandma
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Chavon BarryChavon is a new writer from Victoria, British Columbia. She wrestles with simple answers and is learning to listen, to be still with God. Archives
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