I wrote a polished post and then finished only to discover I didn’t feel at all lighter. That’s how I knew it wasn’t what I needed to write. (Past lesson learned: If what you create doesn't make you feel more alive than you're creating the wrong thing.)
I don’t know.
That’s all I feel confident about these days.
Simply not knowing.
I’ve read about these types of seasons – always in a book written by someone who now has it figured out. (Past lesson learned: Confusion always precedes clarity.) So, maybe I outta do the same. Hang tight and share about this season once I've gained clarity. But, I’m not so sure about that approach. It feels a bit more scary (freeing) to simply say out loud that for today I don’t know.
I love him. I love them. I love this simple life we’ve created. I suppose there's something I know.
What I don’t know is what to do with my brain. My hands. My talents. My time. I’m not as good of a wife, mother or friend when my brain sits swirling. (I suppose there's something else I know.)
I was inspired by another friend who decided this past February to share candidly and publicly about her life with depression and anxiety and has since shared about the freedom and lightness she has felt since that terrifying hour. (Past lesson learned: Light can only get in when we crack the door.) So, I’d like to take a page out of her book and do something similar.
I'm not even attempting to equate what she did to what I'm currently doing. But this... is it being an Enneagram 1?... this feels scary. I like to have things figured out. I like to know where I'm headed. (Past lesson learned: Sometimes you have to lose who you were to find out who you now are.)
I’m in a season of waiting. A season of rest. A season that feels a bit like a long winter’s nap when I’m not all that tired.
I recently finished a class at The Define School that was a shock to my system. Amy’s words continue to puncture my soul. There is power to be found in creating for the sole purpose of exercising one’s creativity. Not always to win awards, or followers, or even outside recognition. Simply because not doing it feels like breathing only through your nose. You won’t die, but you won’t fully live either.
(Past lesson learned: Experimenting is imperative.) Starting today I am making a commitment to write here twice a week. (Dear self, write what it is that is on your mind that week – don’t die from overwhelm before you even get started!)
It may or may not be polished. In fact, most of the time I imagine it won’t be. I’m on a journey and I’m learning and I wonder if there’s anyone else approaching 37 who feels both young and old at the same time. There are risks to this approach - awkwardly sharing this journey publicly as I figure things out - but the alternative is living quiet and that has proved to be a bit boring.
I’ll re-evaluate in January. I’ve always loved a good experiment. And for today, I also love parenthesis. (See you Friday.)
p.s. I highly recommend Amy's class at DEFINE.
p.p.s. I also highly recommend visiting Joshua Tree.
p.p.s.s. I just had a moment of clarity. When I feel scared I want to flee. As I wrap this I'm simultaneously thinking of all the places me and the girls can travel to this weekend. I'm going to stay put. You know to follow through on my commitment for at least a week...