Freedom Means... Consciously Nurturing Me

“Let go of the way you thought life would unfold; the holding of plans or dreams or expectations—let it all go. Save the strength to swim with the tide. The choice to fight what is here before you now will only result in struggle, fear, and a desperate attempt to flee from the energy you long for. Let go, and the waves and crests will carry you to unknown shores, beyond your wildest dream or destinations.”  – Danna Faulds

Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of what makes me feel free. I’ve been making more and more choices that help me feel free, and I am learning what it actually feels like.

Initially, I thought this was the first time in my life that I have actually been free.

That’s not true, of course. I’ve been free many times… and I’ve felt freedom a few times, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to feel it as freedom. I kept looking to others to fill the void inside of me, so it didn’t matter how free I actually was… I continued wrapping myself in chains—tying myself to others in unhealthy ways to feel accepted, validated, and important.

But this is the first time in my life that I have not only had freedom, but that I have felt freedom, and acted accordingly.

At first, I was afraid. I was petrified (ok, stopping the random song lyric now).

(I know. That was bad.)

I wasn’t sure how to make choices that fed my basic need of feeling free. I wasn’t even sure what being free actually meant to me, either.

Freedom can look like lots of things. This being July, and with the recent celebration of Independence Day on the 4th, it’s easy to think about our troops, our country, and what we stand for as a nation.

If I were a minority, it would be easy to define what freedom means in modern society.

If I were in a country where women are enslaved, and I were suddenly brought to America to start over—well, that sort of freedom is obvious, as well.

But what is personal freedom? Does it mean I’m not tied to anyone?

I would say that depends on my attitude. I am bound to my family by blood. I am bound to my friends by chosen bonds forged over time and with deep investments in emotional, intimate, and honest connection.

I am bound to my two kitties, to care for them and love them.

I am bound to other things and people as well, for different reasons. You get the point.

But, can one not also be free while being connected?

This is a hard question. The obvious answer is yes, but defining that quickly gets vague, nebulous, blurry.

In the absence of a clear definition of personal freedom, I realized that I’ve been sabotaging myself when everything seems to be going well.

I mentioned in a previous post that anytime things are going well, I am really waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve moved to the next level now… I am consciously choosing to be in the moment more (and more, and more!) and it’s paying off in spades. I find that I don’t worry nearly as often as I used to, about anything… and that is certainly freeing.

But I got to that next level of awareness and realized that when things are going well, I am actually the one causing things to go awry, with those thoughts of wondering when the next bad thing is going to happen.

It’s the law of attraction, plain and simple.

Now that I have that awareness, of course it’s time to stop sabotaging myself when I’m doing well and reset my attitude by doing good things for myself. I love myself. So, why would I go to so much trouble to mess things up when things are going well?

What I’ve come to realize is that spending time engaging in my latest distraction (at the moment, online dating—in the past it’s been too much TV, too much drinking, too much eating, etc.) is really just what I do to “check out” from reality… from my life. It prevents me from spending time on stuff that really matters to me. It precludes me from deepening my connections—to others as well as to myself and of course, to God. It prohibits me from continuing to grow and evolve.

Whatever my latest check-out mechanism of choice is, it prevents me from creating the life I want, and even worse—it stops me dead in my tracks from meeting my own needs.

As is usually the case, when I stumble on something over and over again, the root cause is usually a tape.

I only recently figured out what tape that comes from: I’m stupid (so I’m going to fuck it up, anyway).

(This tape is the hardest of all to admit. To myself, yes, but to admit it in public is a really big deal.)

I think what it really boils down to is that for me, my tape of I’m stupid really means that I don’t matter. That I’m not good enough.

My greatest fear rears its ugly head, yet again. But this is just another manifestation of it—a new head on the ever-present monster within. I’m stupid is a different version of my greatest fear that doesn’t feel quite as severe, yet it is still causing me problems, causing me to behave in ways that I don’t want to behave and make choices that I intrinsically don’t want to make.

Why on earth do I do this? I have an amazing life, filled with more blessings than I ever dreamed possible. I have no reason to check out from my life… but what I’ve come to realize is, this is a very long-standing habit. A lifelong habit, if you will… and it’s my next big pattern to break.

All these thoughts were spurred on by a simple homework assignment made by a good friend of mine. He asked all of us in a group to list 5 things that we do to nurture ourselves… and if we didn’t have 5… to come up with 5 things that would be nurturing.

I easily came up with four.

1. Yoga and dancing
2. Connecting with friends and family in meaningful ways
3. Writing
4. Eating well

But I was stumped on the fifth.

And it led me to realize that I’ve been spending entirely too much time doing things that just don’t matter to me.

And, I’ve made a decision about getting to five. I think the fifth thing comes from separating yoga and dance into two. In the beginning of my exercise journey, I exclusively did yoga and dance, one right after the other.

They were once one, because I needed that. Somehow, one made the other seem less intimidating.

I’ve grown since then, so now I’m ready to take it to the next level.

I made the choice to deepen my yoga practice by getting an unlimited class pass at one of the studios where I’ve taken a few classes. And, I have two Groupons to use up for two other yoga studios.

So… yoga… here I come!

And that same studio where I bought the class pass also offers hip-hop classes. Oh yes. I’m definitely checking that out, too!

What occurred to me this past week is that I am consciously making choices that are helping me feel more free, even within the confines of who and what I am currently bound to… even within the confines of society, and paying rent, and obeying laws, and all the other rules and restrictions placed upon humans.

Basically, freedom means I need to just be myself. No matter who I am around, no matter what I am doing. I need the freedom to do whatever it is, in my very own way.

I need the freedom to fall down, so that I gain the experience of standing up and carrying on. I need the freedom to stretch and let go, so that I can know what it feels like to fly.

And doing five things consistently to nurture myself is a pretty damn skippy way to walk the walk of living the life that I am meant to live, being the woman I am meant to be, and of course—paving my path of freedom.

So, I ask you…

• What do you need?
• What are 5 things you do (or can do) to nurture yourself so you can meet your needs?

Wordless Wednesday - Sassy

The Scale Fiasco

A few months ago, I had a humiliating experience with my bathroom scale.

I bought my new scale in March, when I moved into my apartment. My bathroom has hand-laid yet slightly uneven tiles. You can see, already, where this is going...

I had thought I got it on just the right spot of the floor, but I had noticed that every time I stepped on it, it was incredibly sensitive and I could see the number going up or down by as much as 6 pounds just by me shifting my stance only slightly. That *should* have told me that it wasn't level, but for whatever reason, I ignored it. And then I started to tell myself, "Well, I'm still losing, so I guess I really CAN eat whatever I want!"

Oh, look—a new tape.

I think it got bumped on a Saturday in late May, when I had my combination birthday/housewarming party, because on Sunday the reading was way off. So, I reset it a couple of times and tried to find a level spot a couple of times... and I didn't think much of it.

Monday came around, and the reading was a whopping 15 pounds more than it was Saturday. I reset the damn scale at least 10 times that morning: moved it around, put it on the wood floor, etc. I tried desperately to get it to read what it had been reading before.

But this time, the scale didn’t easily fluctuate by 6 or so pounds just by the way I stood on it. This time, the scale instantly popped up a number and stayed steady as soon as I set foot on it.

And that reading was 15 pounds more than what I had gotten before.

The reality is that when I didn't watch the scale and actually shift my weight in order to manipulate it to a lower number (oh god I hate admitting that)... I was weighing in at around 71 pounds below my starting weight... not the 74-76 I had been telling myself (and of course, telling others).

So, I had not only been thinking that I really could just eat whatever I wanted to eat and not worry about it… but now that the lie was officially dispelled, it meant I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

A few days after all this, I put on a pair of pants and noticed they felt really tight in the waist. They hadn't before. That was the bottom of the barrel for my real reality check. It hit me that I actually did gain some pounds back.

I had to look at why, and how. I realized that I've been stress-eating at work. Quite literally stuffing my face all day long. Oh, look, an 8-hour-a-day excuse to eat unconsciously… and I took full advantage of it.

So after realizing that I've been stress-eating at work, and eating far too much... I decided to scale back and go back to paying really close attention to what I'm eating, how much I'm eating, and how often I'm eating.

Back to square one with Intuitive Eating, in other words.

It sucks. And I was so down about it that I couldn’t write about it here until I came to some realizations about it. But, like everything... this is a learning experience. I've been trying to lie to myself, and I could only do that for so long before calling my own ass out.

So, what I’ve learned from this experience:

• It’s extremely easy to slip into a comfort zone, and stay there for however long it’s comfortable.
• Lying to myself makes it easier to stay in that comfort zone. I can make up any number of effective excuses to keep myself down.
• I used the scale as my crutch. For the first time, I wasn’t using it as an ally to help me keep track of what my body is doing, and how my body is doing. I was trying to manipulate a tiny machine that I had put in place to help me. How is that a mirror to my life? (Ouch.)
• And, finally… once again driving home the fact that no one is as hard on me as I am.

The reality is that I probably gained about 6 or 8 pounds back from the progress I had reached in March. It felt overwhelming at the time, but really, it was a manageable amount.

So, how about some good news?

Since recovering from the emotional depth of the scale fiasco, I’ve been doing very well, and now—I’m back to where I was before, weight-wise.

Those 6 or 8 (or 10? I don't know at this point) pounds are long gone. Only the lesson remains.

What I didn’t expect, though, is that I came to a whole new appreciation and love for my body. I put myself through emotional torture, but I somehow managed to not turn my frustration and disappointment into hate towards my body. That’s a huge step for me.

I have not lost weight in a smooth, even way. I still have strange places on my body that don’t seem to want to cooperate as well as other parts of my body have. They’re places where I am working to build some muscle tone, but it’s proving to be an uphill battle.

In the meantime, though, I have learned to accept all parts of my body. There’s this part of my mid-section that comes in and cinches… and it accentuates my hips. I am so thankful and excited to have hips! I’d always looked at hippy women with a bit of envy, because I didn’t really have hips until I had lost a significant amount of weight and I had started working out.

And my chest doesn’t seem as small as it did when I was so much heavier, either. It looks more proportionate to the rest of me.

As for the other parts that don’t quite make sense (my tummy, for example, and the very top part of my arms), it’ll get there. I’m working on it. I am, as always, a work in progress.

My attitude now is that my body is the only one I’ll have in this lifetime, and it’s up to me to take care of it in the best way I know how. And while this scale fiasco was something I initially saw as a set-back, what I feel now is that it was truly a valuable lesson that I needed to learn.

So, where do I go from here?

Sure—I would still like to lose more pounds, but at this point, it’s about getting my body to the point where I feel comfortable wearing a bathing suit in public. I’ll probably never have a bikini body, but I also don’t want to put limitations on myself.

The focus is no longer on watching the number on the scale get smaller.

My focus now is much broader. It’s about living my life in a way that works the best for me. And the beauty of feeling that way is that it removes expectations, limitations, and the confines of the chains I had once so securely wrapped myself in.

With each day, I learn more about what it means for me to be free.

A Reason, A Season, A Lifetime

It has been said that people enter your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

Whatever the case, I am learning that it's really all about love.

Right now I’m reading a book called In the Meantime, by Iyanla Vanzant.

In the book, she talks about a woman named Luanne Bellarts, who was born with cerebral palsy. She was a living illustration of love. Over the span of her lifetime, she taught others about the real meaning of love, faith, and trust by writing Bird with a Broken Wing—which is her life story.

She wrote it with her big toe, which was her only working appendage.

What is it about people born with certain “handicaps” seem to have a much firmer grasp on what faith is really about? Why does it work that way?

A Reason

In pondering these questions, my mind immediately flooded back to my time as a teacher for autistic kids. I taught in a special autism school that had build residences in differing neighborhoods near the school, so the kids transitioned from home to school, and back again at the end of the day.

My case student was named Greg.

Greg

I’ve never spoken of him in this blog before, but I still think about Greg and some of the other students often.

Special kids like Greg have a way of seeing right through bullshit.

Below, I’ve included an exerpt of the biography I wrote on a webpage I created for him back in 2000:

Gregory Dean McKinnon – April 30, 1982-July 10, 2000  

Gregory Dean McKinnon was born on April 30, 1982. He grew up in a small town in New Hampshire called Goffstown amongst a large network of family and friends.
 In his 18 short years Greg managed to touch the lives of so many people. Even with complications such as Cerebral Palsy, mental retardation, and behavior problems, Greg faced challenges with his head held high in the air—often we'd forget he even had disabilities because that kid could make you laugh without saying a word.
 Gregory grew up in a warm and incredible family—Mom, Dad, and 3 brothers (Ben, Chris, and Adam). Members of his family touch the lives of everyone they meet with their unconditional love. They have great respect for each other and those around them, and that showed every day in Greg. Greg made you feel special when you walked in the room—he’d glance up, see you, and instantly start laughing. Often he'd get up and walk over to you to get a hug or touch your arm—anything just to say hello.
 Greg was a very social young man.  He loved to stop and chat with friends in the hallway, and he liked making new friends too.  Even though Greg couldn't speak—he could convey so much with his gestures, his smile, and his contagious laugh.
  Greg really knew how to get what he wanted, using humor and persistence!  He was very good at reading people and figuring them out—and subsequently finding just the right persuasive tactics to get what he wanted (in other words... he had us wrapped around his little finger!).
  Everyone who was at all acquainted with Greg consistently noted his contagious laughter, his warm smile, social nature, and big welcoming brown eyes... but especially his laugh and his intrinsic ability to make other people laugh.  He was more talented than any stand-up comedian at drawing genuine laughter out of someone who likely needed a good guffaw.
  Greg passed away on Sunday evening, July 10, 2000, while he was sleeping at his school's sponsored residence on West Hill Road.  His body is gone, and those who knew his challenges walking believe he can now run and jump in the clouds—but I believe he watches over his loved ones and his soul lives within everyone's life he touched (that's a lot of people).  He's got his place among the stars, and I'm sure it's a front row seat, with an endless supply of Auto Hunter magazines, chocolate bars, hot dogs, and soda.
  We miss him.

(As a side note: it does strike me as strange that I would think about Greg, and talk about him in this blog, on the 11th anniversary of his passing.)

I was technically Greg’s teacher, but he was placed in my life for a reason:

He taught me the true meaning of unconditional love.

Teaching severe special needs children is one of the most difficult jobs out there.  If it's in your blood, you just do it and you're happy doing it.  If it's not in your blood—you find out quickly, you burn out, you leave the field.  I realized at one point that severe special needs was not quite the place I needed to be.  But, until I came to terms with that realization and I started to act on it by seeking another line of work—I did the best I could.  And Greg really helped me "keep it real."  His smile, his laugh, his silly and loving nature really helped me.  Every single day.  Even with the challenges that he presented to staff and family, he knew when I needed a good laugh and he could always make me smile.  Greg had so many gifts and he gave so much love.  That is why it was so hard to lose him.

I did everything I could do to hide back in those days. I wore mens clothes that were too big, I didn’t take care of myself, I wasn’t good with eye contact, and I rarely talked about feelings, or anything real or meaningful.

Greg didn’t care. He could see right through me, from the moment we met. And he really could make me feel special. When I walked into a room he was in, he stood up, started laughing and smiling, and inevitably walked over to give me a hug.

There were times when I confided in him, when no one else was around to listen. I told him when I was having a bad day. A lot of the time, if he was in a bad mood, and I told him that I was feeling sad, or having a hard day… he would actually turn his behavior around and do whatever he could to make me laugh.

That kid loved me. Unconditionally. He was a beautiful, pure illustration of unconditional love. He understood what I needed, and he did the best he could do to help me feel better.

By the same token, he taught me something I never expected: tough love.

He was a difficult kid when it came to shaving his face. He had a lot of very thick hair, so he had to be shaved pretty often. And, of course, it was his caseworker’s job.

Greg would do whatever he could to try and manipulate me so that he could get out of shaving. It never worked, of course, because I knew that if I didn’t get it done one day, I would be stuck with the task the very next day.

I had to stand up to him, but in a loving way—not a cruel or mean way. I had never done that before, with anyone… and he taught me how to do it, without either of us realizing what was going on.

I also learned what it means to give unconditional love. Greg could feel when I wasn’t being genuine, or when I was trying to manipulate him, and he never once fell for it.

That kid knew me better than many of the people I had called friends in my past ever had. At the time, he even knew me better than my own family knew me.

I think about Greg anytime I need to remember what unconditional love should feel like.

And then, I look at myself, and ask myself how I can better love myself unconditionally, because as I now know… love begins with me.

A Season

I spent some time with a man recently who I now realize was in my life for a reason, yes—but during this strange season of my life.

The gift he gave me was tenderness.

And I realized that over the years, I have looked everywhere for tenderness, intimacy, and deep connection. (Everywhere but within, of course.)

What I’ve learned is that when I am seeking something from another person, it is something I am really searching for within me.

And that man reminded me of what tenderness felt like, and sometimes, that’s all we need—a reminder.

I was in a funk most of yesterday, and I didn’t understand why until late last night. All it took was a very simple yet profound phrase in an email I got earlier in the evening, about inner light attracting someone on the same frequency, to make me realize that I’ve been seeking nothing from others, but also nothing from myself.

In other words—in some pretty significant ways, I’ve been coasting.

While I haven’t been looking for others to fill me up, or fill my needs—I also haven’t been looking within. I’ve allowed myself to get so caught up in work and meeting new people that I haven’t slowed down long enough to be still and see what’s really there.

In the past, I was afraid of the stillness, because it often meant I sank into depression.

And while I have embraced my fearlessness in almost all realms, I think some of that fear still lingers in the quiet crevices of my mind and heart…

But the interesting thing is that despite the walls I’ve recently hit with meeting new people, I am standing strong with who I am. It’s nothing against me or my self-worth if someone chooses not to hang out with me, and I am choosing, time and time again, to remain open.

A Lifetime

I am here for me

And while there are certain folks who I know are in my heart for a lifetime—a few very close friends, my family, and God—there’s one person I am only just now starting to really count on... She comes through for me, every time, through thick and thin. She’s been here for me time and time again, even when I didn’t think it possible… even when I didn’t think she was looking.

And she’s here for me now. All I have to do is stop shutting her out in my time of need, which is the time she wants to be here for me the most.

Just like God, all I have to do is let her in... let her be here. 

All I have to do is let my light shine, even when I can't define exactly what that means. Maybe even especially when I can't define exactly what that means.

And she is someone I need, and will continue to need, for the rest of my life.

I am thankful to finally be here, present and in the moment… just for me.

Truly, I am learning to lead with love...

And that love begins with me.

Openness is Relative, Especially When Meeting New People

My last post was about love and openness.

Openness… is relative. Recently, I’ve delved into the world of online dating. I have a feeling it’s going to take me a long time to find someone who will see me for who I really am, and who will love me just for being me.

That’s okay. I’m not in a rush.

Because I suspect it will take a while, I thought I would get a head start and put up a profile on two sites. You never know, after all, when love is going to have its way with you, and I remain open to the possibility.

But I do wonder if, when I’m first getting to know someone, maybe I’m a little too open. I think it takes people off guard, to come across someone who will really talk about anything, at least to an extent.

Part of me says, "I am who I am, and if that scares off a dating prospect, then phooey on him!"

But I'm not sure it's that simple.

I’m used to being around Pathways folks, who sort of let it all hang out, all the time. When I’m talking to someone random, though, that sort of openness doesn’t usually translate.

My problem is… I have become practically incapable of small talk.

I have to wonder, though. Do people really expect the worst? Do they think that because I am open, and curious, that I must also be a little nuts? Or that I have a hidden agenda? Or something else? Clearly, I’m missing something…

Or is it just completely disarming and frightening to come across someone who is willing to talk and share about meaningful things?

It was actually easier to do the online dating thing back when I was so closed up and actually trying to show myself off as being totally perfect. But now that I am unafraid to admit that I am flawed, and now that I’ve stopped trying to be so damned perfect, what I’m finding is that authenticity doesn't seem to be good advertising.

The flip side of that coin is… do I really want to attract someone who is looking for perfection?

The answer is, of course… no.

Perhaps it's about balance. Learning where that line is between the light-hearted getting-to-know-you chatter where you ask questions like, "Where's your favorite vacation spot?" to the more serious and potentially thought-provoking questions like, "What do you  really want in a woman?"

Because after I ask that question... if the answer the other person provides has some real substance to it, I can dive in for deeper questions pretty fast. And real questions, real substance, can, as it turns out, send someone for the hills faster than I ever expected.

Hey, this is a learning experience for me. I'm dating again, for the first time in 10 years. Along with all the other things I'm doing again, for the first time in X number of years... I mean, come on. You didn't expect me to do it perfectly the first time around, right?

I'll be happy if I get it right, ever.

When it comes to balance... well. I tend to have some trouble with that.

Balance isn't about being perfect and centered. It isn't something static. It's about the small adjustments we constantly make to attempt to get to 'balance'. It's a verb. And sometimes it's about falling, laughing at yourself, and doing it again. - Patti's yoga teacher*

So, I am content that finding someone just right will take a while. In the mean time, I view this as a learning experience, and I do hope that along the way, I will at the very least have some fun and hopefully meet some great people.

And perhaps learn some balance along the way, laughing at myself when I fall down.


*I have every intention to actually get this person's name...

A Post About Love

I just finished watching the movie Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I’ve watched it more times than I can count. And, yes, it’s essentially a teen movie, but the themes are universal and for someone like me, who didn’t have the blessing of friends from birth, I realized something while I sat there, crying during one of the pivotal moments of the movie.

I am lucky to have friends like that, now.

Lena’s story is compelling to me. This monologue of hers is a favorite:

Lena: [in her letter, after Kostas accuses her of being afraid to love him] He's right, Car. I am afraid. There's a part of me that wants to let him in but then I feel myself put this wall up and I don't understand why. Maybe that's what strikes me most about Kostas: that despite everything he's suffered he can still look at life in the most uncomplicated way. I've never known that kind of faith. It makes me so sad that people like Kostas and Bridget who have lost everything can still be open to love... while I, who have lost nothing, am not. 

It occurred to me that I used to be that way. I used to be so afraid to be open, and to be open to the possibility of love. I used to walk around, a collection a walls, and wonder why no one bothered to try and get to know me. I used to wonder why, when I was really in need, I had no one to call.

Fake Smile Me (as college senior)

I did it to myself.

Realizing that—and how far I’ve come since those days, it’s no mystery as to why I’ve settled for so much in my life, including in the realm of love. I didn’t even know myself well enough to know what I wanted in love—let alone what I could give to someone else, let alone what I was worthy and deserving of having.

I even settled with the way I loved my family. Back in 2002 when I was looking to move in with the man I would end up marrying, my mother had some not-so-nice things to say to me when I announced the move-in. It hit me that she didn’t really know me, at all. She was reacting out of her own uncertainty, frustration, and confusion. She had no idea what I’d been through when I lived in Massachusetts. She had no idea the experiences I had, the life I’d lived, or the ways I had struggled.

She didn’t know, because I didn’t tell her.

I tried to protect my family from needing to worry about me by keeping them in the dark. I tried to hold up that illusion of living a perfect life and handling everything perfectly, because as long as I did that (so I thought), they wouldn’t worry. And a part of me acted that way because I thought it was the only way to really get through life.

 If I could just hang on another day and pretend it was all perfect, then maybe someday it would be. It’s the “fake it till you make it” attitude to the extreme.

My parents are good people. Wonderful people, actually, who have been there for me, even when they were confused and frustrated. And so, of course—no matter how in-the-dark I kept them about the reality of my life… they worried about me anyway.

Keeping them in the dark about who I was didn’t serve anyone, but it especially didn’t serve me.

Last year, when I sat down with my parents to tell them about the divorce, I felt myself utterly falling apart before their eyes. And for the first time… I let it happen. I opened up to them and told them how I really felt, what I was really going through, and what I was really facing. I explained what led up to this point, and how unhappy I had been—for years.

And when my heart opened up… so did theirs.

Through the last year of my life, I have witnessed incredible grace, love, and caring from people I didn’t even know loved me. And part of that is because I surround myself with people who are loving, caring, and full of grace… but I think an even bigger part of that has to do with me and the way I have changed.

The Real Me

I’m more open than I’ve ever been. I’m more willing to admit when I’ve screwed up, and I am quick to ask for feedback, so I can do better next time around. I am willing to let my ugly pieces and shameful parts show, where before, I spent so much energy trying to hide the less-than-perfect parts of me that I was constantly exhausted. Even better, I don’t always view the less-than-perfect parts of me as ugly or even shameful. It’s all just part of who I am. I am no longer selective, because I’ve learned that you can’t be selectively numb. You really can’t filter out the feelings that hurt, because that means you’re also numbing yourself to joy and happiness, too.

And by trying to filter out what I presented to the world, I ended up showing only a faint image of my real self. That’s incredibly difficult to maintain, and a lot of the time, my less mature parts would come out sideways at the most inappropriate moments.

I have witnessed the futility of that first-hand. In trying to filter out the “bad” stuff, I ended up showing the world someone who was not really me at all. And, still, I wondered why so few people knew the real me.

Over the last year, I’ve grown in so many ways that most people in my world have said I am almost a completely different person. In the last year, I have allowed myself to feel whatever feelings I have, even if it was extremely painful. I’ve dropped 75 pounds. I’ve sought feedback and taken it to heart. I’ve grown my village so that I have more people to turn to when I’m in need. I’ve learned how to fulfill my own needs. I’ve learned that if I am vulnerable and I let people in… I am deeply loved. And perhaps most important of all: I love myself.

I am more authentic, real, and just… me… than I’ve ever been.

It feels good. Really good.

Feeling Lost, Directionless, and Confused

In the book Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott talks about a book she spent years writing, only for her editor to reject it not once, but twice.

On Thursday, I came upon this passage:

“I tried not to make any big decisions about how to salvage the book or my writing life, because the one thing I knew for sure was that if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.”

And then, this morning, I read my horoscope app and, get this:

“It’s been said that when human beings make plans, God laughs. No matter what deity you believe in, if any, you know very well that we are not in complete control of our own lives. You may now be working through a carefully constructed and highly structured plan. But you may run into an obstacle that will require a revamping of your strategy. Don’t stick with your plan out of stubbornness, for you will only be doing yourself a disservice. Be flexible and be open to new ideas and a new way of doing things—you can achieve success if you can bend.”

And from another message…

“Your inner soul-searching might lead to some nervousness. You won’t be able to solve everything at once.”

These messages hit me hard, because in all the transition I’ve been going through in my life (here, let me list it for you, because if I am having trouble keeping track, which I assure you—I am, I can only imagine that someone who isn’t living it can’t keep track either): grieving a lot of things from my past that I'd never grieved, getting divorced, living alone and learning how to take care of myself again, losing weight and figuring out how to keep it off while exercising and building muscle, becoming a believer in Jesus Christ, having a whole personality shift (for Pathways folks, that means I’m not a Relater as I had always tried to force myself to be… I’m Entertainer/Commander) and having more than a bit of an identity crisis… plus the fact that I haven’t yet been able to make any jewelry because I’m feeling creatively stuck—even paralyzed… taking up dancing again and learning how to let go through yoga and dancing… taking up playing piano again and having to basically relearn everything…

Yeah. You might say I’ve been going through some big changes over the last year. To say I’m starting over feels just a tad understated.

It’s overwhelming to think about. In fact, I’ve come across a few thoughts lately that are more than a little unsettling.

Why am I having such a hard time finding my way? It’s not like I’ve been going through cancer, it’s not as if I’m starving, it’s not as if I’m homeless or unloved or [insert whatever other truly disheartening, desperate, and downtrodden situation here]. I have a wonderful life. I am blessed beyond all my expectations, hopes, and dreams. So why am I feeling so confused? Why can’t I just shut the hell up and be happy?

How do I reconcile the plans I had in place for my life with my recent acceptance of Jesus into my heart and world? I want to figure out how to bring the divine into my life on a daily basis, in a way that makes sense for my heart and my soul.

I don’t feel right pursuing the plans I once had in place… they feel meaningless now. And yet, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be reaching for, either. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next, in all the significant areas of my life.

I’m feeling lost and aimless, and I don’t like it.

How do I create new plans for my life that feel right and help me get closer to God in a way that makes sense for me? What does that even look like?

I honestly don’t even know what I want right now, in some ways. And even in the few places where I do have a picture of what I want, it’s fuzzy and foggy, and I’m not sure if it feels right yet.

It’s hard to just be, in this moment, when I am so uncertain of what tomorrow looks like. It feels like I should be spending energy on trying to create a picture for my tomorrow, my 5 years from now, and my 10 years from now… but 5 and 10 years ago, I never would have thought my life would look the way it does right now. I never would have imagined I’d be where I am in this moment.

So I have found myself asking, what’s the point in making plans at all?

A year ago I was married. I was unhappy in that marriage, but still—I was married. I fit in somewhere, with all the other married couples.

I made jewelry, and so I fit into the community of jewelry makers.

(Etc.)

And over the last year, I’ve been dealing with so much grief and so much overwhelming change, that I’ve been in survival mode. On so many days, it was all I could do to just get through it and hope the next day was better.

And, I’ve realized a few things. I tend to pigeon-hole myself into survival mode, because I know how to function within it. I know it’s just about getting through the day, and embracing little pockets of joy when they come along, because they are fleeting. I know that with incredible change comes incredible growth. I know how to hang in survival mode… I know how to surrender in survival mode… I know how to totally let go of control in survival mode.

But, I’m out of survival mode now.

And I find that I’m struggling with letting go of control (yet maintaining what control I DO have, and where is that line, and how fine is it?).

I’m struggling with surrender, because I don’t know what surrender really looks or feels like when I’m not in the middle of some sort of transformative moment or a crisis of the heart.

Now, I am experiencing and learning new things. Now, I am discovering something new about what I want or don’t want, what I like or don’t like, and what I need or don’t need on an almost daily basis. This process is both exciting and terrifying.

It feels like I’m walking blindly through some un-named journey and I’m so focused on the outcome that I am having a lot of trouble enjoying this process of relearning who I really am, as God continues to mold me into the woman I’m meant to be.

Does anyone else struggle with this? Surrendering to this process of living a good, fulfilling life, and what that means… while trying to put plans into place so that you feel like you have some sort of direction… all while embracing the big and small changes that take place during this process?

I mean, I know it’s the illusion of being on control that has me spinning sideways right now. How do I surrender—and release that control, knowing that I am not totally in control anyway? And yet, how do I use the bit of control I have to find and fulfill the deep meaning I’ve been seeking in my life for so many years? What can I do to make my life feel more meaningful in every aspect—not just in my free time, but when I’m at work, when I’m driving, when I’m spending time with friends or alone?

I have a lot of big questions, and not a single answer...

Wordless Wednesday - Meet Kasey, My New Niece!