Dear Diary, Naked and Afraid.

Who here has seen the show Naked and Afraid? If you haven’t, you’re missing out on a quality TV concept. Two strangers, one male and one female, are placed in the middle of a random, but hellacious, spot on this wonderful Earth, and expected to survive…while butt ass naked. I mean the shit these people endure is absolutely wild: thunderstorms on a deserted island, drinking from a watering hole in the middle of an African desert, being torn the hell up by all kinds of insects, and eating grub worms and lizards for bfast, lunch, and dinner. AND AGAIN, while bearing their bday suits in front of a complete stranger of the opposite sex.

Sooooo confession…I’m dying to be on this show. Am I a wilderness expert? No. Am I a survivalist? No. Have I ever even killed an animal? Hell no. But I love this idea of being tested, mentally and physically, to the extreme. I’m just wired in this strange way where I love being pushed to the limit. There is nothing more satisfying than to be at this mental spot of being so totally ready to give up, and then BOOM, surprising yourself by pushing just a little bit further. There is no better reward than pushing yourself past physical exhaustion to go just a little bit longer, lift a little bit heavier, or beat another person out. I get it; I’m sick in the head. But due to this, I think I could make it longer than most would expect me to on this show.

I have no doubt that I could build a shelter to withstand mother nature. I think I’d be smart enough to know when to conserve energy. I could figure out a way to boil water/find a good source of water to drink from (thank you outdoor ed instructors at MGM). It’s a toss up if I’d be able to eat a grub worm or kill an animal to eat, but big girl loves food, so I’m sure we’d figure it out.

Here’s where I’d have issues; it's the nakedness for me. You think I’m an idiot because the name of the fucking show is NAKED and Afraid, don’t you? I get it, but like, it’s not necessarily exposing my bare ass to a total stranger (although my modest self may be a little skeptical about that too), it’s my idea of the concept of nakedness that is the scary part. For me, being naked means being exposed. It’s allowing someone to see your every flaw. It’s about letting someone determine how confident you are with every square inch of your body. It’s allowing someone, in the grand scheme of things, to make their judgements about you. Yeah….so that’s all going to be a no from me dog.

This may be TMI, but I’ve always had an issue with anyone being able to see me naked. My own mother, who’s wiped my ass at one point, rolls her eyes at me because I act like an exposed nun if she walks in on me post shower. It's crazy because after losing Wes I immediately felt stripped; I felt like the whole world could just see this sad, hopeless, grieving, naked shell of myself. I felt like people could see every single flaw of mine. I felt like people could immediately sense how broken and beaten I was. I felt like people were judging me, judging me hard. It’s like I was center stage and my Modest Mouse self was butt naked for the world to see.

This was a HARD pill to swallow, mainly because I was unsure of what version of myself I was ‘supposed’ to be putting out there. Should I be crying more? Should I be smiling more? Should I be angrier? Should I be more forgiving? Should I be back at work to busy myself? Should I be spending more time with people? Or more time alone? Should I move out of our home? Should I wear his clothes to sleep in? Did that make me look crazy? How long do I wear my wedding rings for? Should I just plan on being alone the rest of my life? Should I just pick up and move across the country? Should I dye my hair again or get another tattoo? Should I let myself go because there’s no one else to impress? Should I pretend that I’m okay even though I’m not? Should I tell people I’m going to therapy? Should I pretend that all is well? Or should I be honest? All of the questions swarmed my mind day and night, and just as I thought I’d have it all figured out, I’d wake up the next day with the same cluster fuck of questions swarming my brain. I was unsure if I’d ever have this naked and stripped version of myself figured out.

And guess what…I still don’t have that shit figured out almost a year and a half later. In that time frame I HAVE figured out that I actually, sort of, embrace this version of nakedness. It’s still a scary feeling but it’s also extremely freeing. I want people to look at me, like really look at me, and see me for the person I am. I want people to recognize all my extreme failures, but also, my incredible wins. I want people to see me in my weakest moments because I want them to marvel at my moments of strength. I want people to see me at my lowest of lows, so that they can celebrate all my highs with me. I want people to look at my insecurities, and then directly take note of my faith because I truly believe that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I want people to see my brokenness and accept it as beautiful, because I honestly think it’s the coolest part about me.

Here I am, naked and afraid, but ready to live my life with the people who cheer me on through that challenge.

---

In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence. Ephesians 3:12