My initial response to tragedies, big and small, is almost
always the same.
I want to curl up
in the fetal position and cry, preferably under a blanket, so I can shut out
and hide from the world.
When this is physically impossible, or after I’ve worked up just
enough nerve to brave life outside the blanket, my secondary responses kick in.
Sometimes (like today, in light of the Boston Explosions) I turn to distractions, to take my
mind off the troubles.
I spent the evening soaking in the sun and shopping for new
plants, a chance to focus on new life, instead of tragic ends.
Sometimes I zone out instead, and become completely numb to
anything and anyone.
The problem with this method of “coping” is that it’s hard
to pull out of a zombie-like existence. And living on auto-pilot for any length
of time, seems like a waste of precious breaths.
But ultimately, when the distractions cease, or I wake back
up to reality, or I pull the blanket from over my head (or it gets taken from me), I must face whatever woes the world has thrown
my way.
And it sucks. Can we say that?
Sometimes, facing this messed up world we share sucks.
Don’t worry. This isn’t where I post a picture of a cat and
say something about hanging in there.
Those words are too trite to touch on a hurt of this
magnitude.
What I will say is that I’m thankful we don’t have to face
hardships alone.
And I’m thankful there’s A Hero we can call on any time.
(Yes; the graphics are cheesy. But I love the lyrics.)
Weeks ago I listened to this song on repeat, while going
through a tough time personally.
Tonight I’m so thankful it’s written about Someone who cares enough to hear each of our small, silent struggles, yet powerful enough to offer healing for the deepest wounds throughout the world.
In this quiet living room. In Boston. And beyond.
We may not know why bad things happen. I sure don’t, and I
won’t pretend to.
But I am thankful that deep in my soul I know the bad stuff
isn’t the whole story.
Above and beyond heinous acts, there is always bravery and
goodness and HOPE.
Hope is the result of seeing heroes in action.
And Hope exists in knowing that eventually Love always wins.
I pray that something here, in this song or even this confession of my own cowardice, might give
your heart some hope.
Hope to face tomorrow.
To cry as needed.
To cope...
Knowing you're not alone.
"A hero who'll dare to find me, fly to my rescue and crash through the wall. Announce my freedom, bring me to my senses. Gather me into His strong arms, and carry me on to safety." - Chris Rice
You might or might not have noticed I've been pretty absent as of late. Whether you're an acquaintance and occasional blog reader, or a friend that hasn't seen me in a bit, the sad truth is I've been floating a lot as of late.
That untethered, awkward feeling I'm sadly very familiar with has returned. I have not felt grounded, as if my ties to anyone, anything are weak at best.
Ironically, at the same time I've felt like I'm floating away, completely untethered... I've also felt imprisoned.
It's partly brought about by a sick car, and the lack of mobility that has created. But it's more about a lot of fear. A world of fear. A crippling, crushing amount of fear.
Though I've struggled to overcome the fear and the floating in real life, last night I had a great breakthrough, in my sleep.
Last night I dreamed that Mikael and I were headed on a, well, a dream vacation!
We had somehow managed to plan, pack and pay for a long trip to Hawaii (which was sort of a miracle, even in REM cycle), and I was anxious to get there. I couldn't wait to be beachside, with my toes in the water.
The problem was, before we could get to the beach and start sipping cocktails, I had to figure out what to do with my plants.
(That's right, even in deep sleep, I'm the nerd worried about her house plants!!!)
I spent hours (in dream land) looking for plant food and considering running to the store to pick up those globey/orb things that self-water plants.
We were all set to head to Hawaii. Vacation had started. I could almost smell the beach air.
But until I dug through all the junk in our (dream) home to find some plant food I wasn't gonna budge. Not even the call of the beach was enough to lure me away from the frantic, stress-filled existence I was living, literally in my dreams.
I fought pesky cues to wake up (alarm clocks, lights...) for at least an hour this morning, trying to make it to the white sandy shores.
I just knew if I stayed asleep long enough I'd get to relax, to take in the beauty of my imaginary beach.
But instead, the longer I slept, the more stressed I became, searching, digging, clawing to find stupid - ridiculous - plant food!
Who dreams up a fabulous vacation, then doesn't go 'cause she doesn't have the orbs needed to water her plants?
WHO?!
No one does that. No one.
Except me. Stupid, nerdy, ridiculous ME.
I skip out on "dream vacations" 'cause I'm so stressed about leaving home.
Even as a kid I was the same way. While other kids were jumping out of swings and climbing to the top of the jungle gym, I was organizing a Babysitter's Club, close to the ground.
While other kids were running around with wild abandon, thriving on the vulnerability that comes in playing tag, I stayed close to home base. I loved home base, in fact.
You couldn't get hurt, when you were leaning, like a weenie, against the wall serving as "home." So I lived there. In The Safe Zone. (Kenny Loggins would NOT like me.)
When I have good dreams I wake up excited, but with a bit of nostalgia for that imaginary story I was living in my sleep.
But when I woke up this morning, I felt remorseful. I was sad that I hadn't enjoyed the opportunity in front of me.
It's probably weird that I'm talking this much about a dream. But, cheesy as it sounds, this dream felt like a wake up call.
This morning I wanted to say "stupid houseplants" and get on with my day. But I haven't been able to shake the feeling that the plants aren't the real problem.
I've been thinking a lot lately about adulthood. And mostly I've been thinking that it sucks.
Bills. Deadlines. Work. Responsibility.
It's not always fun.
But, the last two days, especially after my "dream vacation" that I didn't make it to... I've started wondering if the problem isn't growing up, as much as it's me.
Maybe I'm my biggest problem!
The truth is I know plenty of adults that are lots of fun. They don't require expensive vacations to unwind. They aren't at peace only in their dreams, or not at all.
They ride shopping carts out of stores. They laugh at themselves. They take advantage of any opportunity to enjoy life to its fullest. They have child-like fun and wonderment, with or without their kids.
I'm just not one of those people.
I didn't have child-like fun when I was a child.
And I can't seem to manage to have it now, even in my dreams.
But this cannot be where the story ends. I refuse to settle for being the stressed out, crazy plant lady.
I'm not sure what my next move is, frankly.
I know I want to change. I know I need to change. But I know that won't happen overnight.
I don't think I can just Pinterest ideas for "Being fun." (I mean; I could, of course. But I don't think that's the solution.)
I don't think this post is gonna be neatly wrapped up. Just like I don't think life gets neatly wrapped up.
I do know I sound like a broken record... "I don't know," "I don't know," "I don't know."
And that maybe that's the phrase I keep coming back to because that's the truth I have to live in today.
Maybe today isn't about dreams, or vacations, or figuring out how to be a more fun adult, a less stressed out person...
Maybe today it's enough just to admit that "I don't know."
I don't know the answers. The solutions. I don't know why I am this way.
But I'm not giving up here. I'm not gonna stop in my footsteps and throw up my arms.
I'm gonna keep going, keep questioning, and... do what I do when all else fails...
Keep dreaming AND listening to good music that makes things seem better.
But what you don't know is how we killed the rest of our weekend.
And boy did we kill it. (That's still a good thing, right?)
Here we go!
There are no pictures from work last Friday (imagine that!), but I did capture one quick snapshot of my remaining plant babies before we left home.
(So far this spring I've literally killed a cilantro, a rosemary and a basil plant - or two. And... the season is young yet. :/
I have increasingly low hopes, even for the cacti, hence the picture.)
Saturday "the boys" and I walked to the nearest (only) coffee shop in town, where they were spotted, which was pretty cool.
"Are you that band?" a stranger asked.
Why yes, they are that band. :) You know, the one band.
Thanks to last-minute packing I spent Saturday afternoon frantically hitting up four-stores trying to hunt down any remaining sweatshirts in Texas.
Eventually success was found at Kohl's.
But really the whole trip was fun, thanks to very good company. (Old friends are the best!)
Saturday night after the concert (our first selling shirts by the way - thanks everyone that purchased one!) Mikael and I celebrated the way we usually do after a show.
By eating our weight in Whataburger. (So many regrets. :) )
Sunday we spent the day recouping from our wild, crazy weekend (mostly the Whataburger) by leaving the house only once, for a lunch break with our cousins.
This time, we went vegan. Only, because I'm me, I ordered the least healthy options I could find.
A white sausage covered burrito, AND a cookies and cream shake (made with almond milk)?
Yup; they were delicious.
And the trip was fun, as always.
I've never lived close to my cousins, so it was great inheriting awesome ones through Mikael.
Life lately is going really great. In so many ways things
are on the upswing.
I should be ecstatic.
Mikael recently landed a great new job. I’ve gotten
to spend a lot more time with friends and family since both our cars are working
now. (That’s a blessing not to be taken for granted.)
I’ve carved out time for working on several craft projects
I’d been putting off for ages. And found a whole community of writers that seem
like kindred spirits.
We’ve found a church home we love.
I’ve made dinner a few times with minimal supervision, and
without cutting off a finger or setting the kitchen on fire. (Double score!)
Things are good, really good, and yet…
I can’t help but feel incrediblyoverwhelmed.
I don’t know why.
And I’m kind of mad about it, actually.
I mean, it couldn’t come at a worse time. Spring is here.
Life is going well.
And yet… here I am.
Completely and utterly overwhelmed.
This may be the very definition of the word, so forgive me
if it’s redundant, but…
It’s not one thing, it’s everything.
It all seems so
overwhelming.
It’s not just
work. Or just this. Or just
that.
It’s everything, combined.
It’s too much.
And it's getting me down.
Like I said, I don’t have a clear culprit.
I can’t determine precisely why I feel this way.
But I think it has something to do with feeling, very
suddenly, like a full-fledged adult.
It’s as if I went to bed one night a goofy twenty-something,
with plenty of time to figure stuff out, and woke up with a fire under my butt,
a new last name, and a still unfiled IRS form (ughhh!).
And this isn’t baby fever I’m talking about.
This is an
unexplainable, sudden urgency to live up to my potential.
Potential in the creative ideas I have, which I’ve
tried to outrun, or give up, for most of my "adult" life…
Potential I see in the relationship I have with my husband,
and in our future together…
Potential in our fridge…
There’s so much potential. And so relatively little time.
And when I start thinking about it all, I get awfully
overwhelmed.
(Think about the first time you logged into Pinterest! Lately I'm feeling that kind of overwhelmed.
Or the way your computer feels when you open one too many windows, and the "spinning wheel of death" appears. That kind of overwhelmed.)
Some days I just want to relive the carefree days I enjoyed in my youth.
I ache for simpler times, when so much of
life seemed to take care of itself.
Before days were complicated by insurance forms and security
deposits, and the struggle to remain professional while wearing pajama pants…
Before trying to merge two lives, and pursue or eradicate creative
passions…
Lately I'm wondering if everyone else has stuff figured out by now, or if they're just better at going through the motions.
This is not a rhetorical question.
Do you ever feel like a kid lost at the mall?
Part of my struggle lately has to do with what I do and
don’t share in this space.
Even now it feels weird to make a public confession
of this sort.
Why bother? Who cares? And, isn’t this the sort of thing a good
adult keeps to herself?
These are the kinds of questions I’ve been battling on a
nearly daily basis.
And while I know I must be cautious about what I do and
don’t share...
While I know some things are better worked out in private…
I’m also realizing I can’t spend my whole life shying away
from things that scare me.
And this - writing - blogging - putting myself out there - it scares the poooop out of me.
But I'm realizing how important that is.
I'm realizing how much I need that.
For years the creative people I have most consistently admired
have been those that are brave.
Some in fashion. Some in painting. Some in home design. Some as authors.
Some have swapped jobs a dozen times since I've been following them.
Some have transitioned into stay-at-home mothering.
Or launched their own lines.
What they all have in common, though, is that they are exceptionally brave.
They are people willing to forego a little pride, in order to spend
their lives connecting with other human beings…
And they're connecting with their own
innermost thoughts and their truest feelings in the process.
I really want to be one of those people someday. 'Cause I see the value in their courage.
Actually, I want to be one of those people everyday.
'Cause the world needs people that are willing to be brave.
Maybe, in a roundabout way, this post is me committing to
do just that.
To write a little braver.
To share a little braver.
To live a little braver.
Nerdy as it is to end this post with something I must attribute to
watching The Princess Diaries, it
seems fitting to include the sage advice I learned watching it.
Only my Google search went slightly wrong, and instead of sharing the quote from the film, I'm gonna leave you with wise words from Nelson Mandela instead:
I can’t tell you how much I needed to read that.
Just like I can’t explain why I needed to write this.
I can only say I did need those things, like I need to grow up a bit more gracefully.
I need to stop beating myself up, and trust my instincts a little more.
It's time to take more chances, and show more courage.
I can't thank you enough, for making it to the end of
another rambly post.
In fact, thank you precious precious friends, for making it to
the end of so many rambly posts.
I truly hope this is only the beginning, of a brave journey we can embark on together.
A journey towards what is true and beautiful.
A journey towards that which makes courage necessary, worthwhile.
It'll be a journey of overcoming the overwhelmedness, in order to
experience life fully.
And now, I get weak in the knees when I hear him sing it. It gets me, every time.
It was one of the first songs I ever heard him sing, in fact.
At the little home church responsible for our meeting.
I sobbed that first Sunday I heard him sing, because I knew my life would never be the same.
They were happy tears, tears of overwhelming gratitude.
But they were mixed with just a hint of fear, as so often accompanies gigantic life changes.
(Funny how that works.)
"Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee. How great Thou art."
He is a good God, I believe that at my core.
But I doubt it sometimes (often, if I'm honest).
When times are hard. When bills are due.
When my patience is thin.
Or my burdens are heavy.
Still, when I see a hauntingly beautiful sunset, or smell honeysuckle for the first time each spring...
I can't imagine that coincidence brought those things about.
Just as I can't believe it was mere coincidence that brought us together - Mikael and I.
When I watch the love of my life pour his heart and soul out through a microphone and a hollowed piece of wood, I know that life is bigger than what I can see on a daily basis.
I know there is Divinity at work, because I see it at work in and through him.
In spite all my doubts, all my struggles, I trust that He is a good God.
Some moments the trust just comes easier than others.
Listening to my husband sing is one of the moments that faith comes easier. And I'm incredibly grateful for that.
Saturday Mikael and "the boys" (see above) performed a free concert in my hometown.
And while I was busy "preparing" for that show all day - getting the gang pumped up on coffee, running last minute errands, trying to learn the difference between phosphor bronze and 80/20 bronze strings ...
What I didn't do, in my manic state, was take a single second to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen.
In fact, had my dear friend not been there to point out the magnitude of that concert, I might have missed it completely.
Thankfully, she was there, my oldest friend. To point out the obvious truth I was missing in my haste.
Entering the gymnasium where we had played volleyball together...
Where we attended pep rallies, and shared secrets, and developed crushes on all the cute older boys...
It struck her, what a special moment that was...
Walking into a dimly lit room, where a bearded man stood confidently behind a mic.
She looked at me and said, "Can you believe it?"
And I couldn't. I really couldn't.
Her wise question is all it took for a flood of memories to sweep over me.
So many sleepless nights wondering why my latest crush hadn't called.
Trying in vain to win hearts, with humor. Or the answers to our history homework. Or tighter jeans.
Wondering if anyone would ever like me, in spite of my blemished skin and hidden insecurities.
Worrying, that I'd never be able to trust someone enough to let him truly in.
Back then I was sure I'd die miserable and alone, surrounded by cats that would eat my remains. (Maybe that's why I still have a rough time around cats.)
All because the boy in seventh period hadn't noticed my (poor) attempts at flirting.
Or because my tenth-grade crush cared more about keggers than trying to woo my needy heart.
But Saturday... all those bittersweet memories played quickly, like a music montage, capped off by an unimaginable joy:
Watching a man who has and will see me at my worst, a man who knows my toughest struggles, my biggest fears, and loves me the same.
It reminded me how grateful I am, for a great, loving and patient God.
One bigger, and infinitely more wise than I could have imagined at 17.
One I know will continue to astonish me for the next 30 years of my life, and more.
One with the good sense not to give me everything I ask for, and instead to make life a little more challenging and a lot more interesting.
And so much better than the plans I sketched in my composition books.
This God has long been in the business of catching people off guard.
And taking them down paths they never dreamed they'd go.
And I, for one, am thankful He works in mysterious ways.
Leading us precisely where we need to go, in His own perfect (bewildering) time.
Oh Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made I see the stars I hear the rolling thunder Thy power throughout The universe displayed
Then sings my soul My Savior, God, to Thee How great Thou art How great Thou art
Like a lukewarm piece of freezer meat floating in a bowl of
stagnant water.
The dethawing has begun.
But there’s still so far to go.
Growth has begun.
But there’s still so painfully far to go.
I’m thankful to be here, I remind myself daily.
But I also feel unprepared somehow.
As if I’m late for something, or frantically entering a
crowded room trying to find a seat, with my skirt tucked into my pantyhose ('cause in this scenario I wear those), and my report in my other briefcase (assuming I own one).
I don’t know what that means.
I only know I feel like I’m being prepared for whatever
comes next.
After all this weirdness.
After this very long five minutes...
What do I have here?
Any coherent thoughts?
Profound wisdom?
Hardly.
What I do have, after so much overthinking, so many
sleepless nights, so many big dreams deferred…
Is a line from a Pixar movie, floating around my head (pun
intended).
Just keep swimming.
Just keep swimming.
And I think that’s what I’ve got to do.
Even when I feel like a broken record.
Even when I feel I have nothing worthwhile to offer.
Even when I’d rather crawl back into my shell…
I have to keep swimming instead.
Keep swimming ahead.
For now I’ll focus on keeping my head above water.
Trusting that after it is all said and done, things will turn
out alright.
And I’ll be grateful for the company with me on this journey.
And I’ll be grateful I don’t have to figure everything out
to get started.
Afterall… everyone has to start somewhere.
Here is where I start.
*If you want to know more about Five Minute Friday, or to participate, please visit Lisa Jo Baker's page.
It's a great community of writers that get together each week to free write on a prompt.
