#oneword: Rambly Focus
A few weeks ago, I attended a training intended to empower young people to be grace-filled presences in their schools and communities. I went to the meeting not expecting to get a lot out of it personally because it was all sort of Social Work 101. I'm not trying to be a snob. I mean, if I found reflective communication skills to be mind-blowingly brand new information after 12+ years in this career, I probably shouldn't be doing what I do. In any event, I went feeling like I would get to be an expert and leave relatively unimpacted. Bless my little heart...
Of course, God always has another plan. That day, his plan was for me to wind up at a table with a friendly, effervescent, bubbly guy who I knew was, to quote one of my literary heroes, a "kindred spirit," but whom I had never interacted with outside of Facebook. Sidenote: isn't it weird that we can know people only on Facebook? The exercise we were instructed to engage in was to learn more about someone whom we didn't know well before this day. And so, we did. I learned we shared a lot of things in common, but one of the most exciting was the we both enjoyed writing.
As you may (or may not) have noticed, I haven't been publishing much of anything on this blog. There's a lot of reasons for that, but one of them was that I had convinced myself that no one really wanted to read this stuff and that it was pretty egotistical to even post stuff on the interwebs. Publishing things publicly means I assume people actually will find what I have to say interesting or worth investing time to read. I also worried that I was looking for validation in a kind of gross way. I've been trying to curb my facebook posting in general (with mild success...that 'share' button is really addicting, I guess). This blog felt like it was one big giant attempt to get people to pay attention to me and I worried it was annoying rather than endearing. However, when seated at the table, my new friend told me that he enjoyed reading what I wrote...that he looked forward to some of the things I said.
For the past few days, we've been trapped in our homes due to insanely cold weather and it's given me a great chance to get caught up on reading. Right now, I'm reading Michelle Obama's memoir Becoming and in it she wrote: "This may be the fundamental problem with caring a lot about what others think: it can put you on the established path - the my-isn't-that-impressive path - and keep you there for a long time. Maybe it stops you from swerving from ever even considering a swerve, because what you risk losing in terms of other people's high regard can feel too costly." Those sentences jumped out at me while reading - so much so, that I actually shared them in a Facebook status update. However, it's only now that I've made the connection that my worry about what others think has prevented me from doing something that brings me joy. I like to write. I like to share what I write. And that is okay. Thanks, Pastor Paul for planting that seed.
I've neglected these pages for other reasons, too. And those reasons are all rooted in insecurity. Of course. And that seemed like a failure.
I'd used these pages for past few years to wade through the muckiest of the muck. I poured out my hopes and fears about my troubled marriage. I shared my experience of feeling beyond hopeless and processed the moment when I finally decided that it was time to pull the plug on marriage. I even confided some of my worst fears about my ex-husband moving on with a new person.
I also used these pages to publicly share plans I had to be a better person. Last year, I even made a list. I chose joy as a focus and apparently all those years of professional development led me to believe that joy could be measured by SMART goals and checklists. Only, that's not how it works, I guess...at least not always. I checked a few things off that list, but many didn't get checked and that made me feel like I had failed.
The silly thing is that 2018 was really one of my most joyful years...ever. I had reclaimed my life, found new love, and did joy every chance I could get. And yet...whenever I looked at the checklist, all I saw was failure. I saw the missed moments, the lack of focus, and the character flaws. My body is rounder than it ever has been before, I live a humble life in a humble house, and I let my emotions get the better of me more than I'd like to admit. I did joy, but I still felt like I had failed. I wasn't a better person. I hadn't reached the golden conclusion.
Well, that day in the high school media center not only brought me encouragement from my new friend, Pastor Paul, but also brought me wisdom from someone who has known me for a long time. In one exercise where we were asked to share more intimate worries, I found myself sitting across from Rita C. - a beautiful, pure soul who I've turned to for encouragement and love and spiritual guidance many times since living in Mora.
I don't remember exactly what I confessed when I was sitting across from Rita that day. All I know is that I cried (surprise, surprise) and left with a slightly soothed soul. She reminded me that my value is limitless and that all the checkboxes in the world can't measure my worth. I'd been trying to measure something that might not be able to be measured. I was flailing about to find some way to prove that I was winning at life, when all I need to do is just be. I was also reminded that becoming a better person doesn't have a finish line - it is a lifelong journey. It was okay that I hadn't arrived because the destination, if there is one, is constantly changing.
And, so, my #oneword for this year is Focus. I'm ditching the checklists and the measuring sticks and checkboxes and I'm going to try to just remember the basics of being a good human. I want to learn to love myself and to do so unconditionally. This is maybe going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. It means I have to love myself not just when I'm doing things well, but even when I'm not. I need to learn to love myself regardless of the number on the scale, the size of my pants, or the number of calories I consume. I need to accept myself as the beautifully flawed person that I am and just be okay with that. I need to care less about what others thing and more about what I know in my soul about who I am and what my purpose is.
I think I know how to begin this process, but those words are for another day and another blog post because, as is my habit, this has gotten too long.
So, if you've joined me on these pages in the past, hopefully you will continue. But, if not, that's okay too. Michelle Obama has said so ;)
Of course, God always has another plan. That day, his plan was for me to wind up at a table with a friendly, effervescent, bubbly guy who I knew was, to quote one of my literary heroes, a "kindred spirit," but whom I had never interacted with outside of Facebook. Sidenote: isn't it weird that we can know people only on Facebook? The exercise we were instructed to engage in was to learn more about someone whom we didn't know well before this day. And so, we did. I learned we shared a lot of things in common, but one of the most exciting was the we both enjoyed writing.
As you may (or may not) have noticed, I haven't been publishing much of anything on this blog. There's a lot of reasons for that, but one of them was that I had convinced myself that no one really wanted to read this stuff and that it was pretty egotistical to even post stuff on the interwebs. Publishing things publicly means I assume people actually will find what I have to say interesting or worth investing time to read. I also worried that I was looking for validation in a kind of gross way. I've been trying to curb my facebook posting in general (with mild success...that 'share' button is really addicting, I guess). This blog felt like it was one big giant attempt to get people to pay attention to me and I worried it was annoying rather than endearing. However, when seated at the table, my new friend told me that he enjoyed reading what I wrote...that he looked forward to some of the things I said.
For the past few days, we've been trapped in our homes due to insanely cold weather and it's given me a great chance to get caught up on reading. Right now, I'm reading Michelle Obama's memoir Becoming and in it she wrote: "This may be the fundamental problem with caring a lot about what others think: it can put you on the established path - the my-isn't-that-impressive path - and keep you there for a long time. Maybe it stops you from swerving from ever even considering a swerve, because what you risk losing in terms of other people's high regard can feel too costly." Those sentences jumped out at me while reading - so much so, that I actually shared them in a Facebook status update. However, it's only now that I've made the connection that my worry about what others think has prevented me from doing something that brings me joy. I like to write. I like to share what I write. And that is okay. Thanks, Pastor Paul for planting that seed.
I've neglected these pages for other reasons, too. And those reasons are all rooted in insecurity. Of course. And that seemed like a failure.
I'd used these pages for past few years to wade through the muckiest of the muck. I poured out my hopes and fears about my troubled marriage. I shared my experience of feeling beyond hopeless and processed the moment when I finally decided that it was time to pull the plug on marriage. I even confided some of my worst fears about my ex-husband moving on with a new person.
I also used these pages to publicly share plans I had to be a better person. Last year, I even made a list. I chose joy as a focus and apparently all those years of professional development led me to believe that joy could be measured by SMART goals and checklists. Only, that's not how it works, I guess...at least not always. I checked a few things off that list, but many didn't get checked and that made me feel like I had failed.
The silly thing is that 2018 was really one of my most joyful years...ever. I had reclaimed my life, found new love, and did joy every chance I could get. And yet...whenever I looked at the checklist, all I saw was failure. I saw the missed moments, the lack of focus, and the character flaws. My body is rounder than it ever has been before, I live a humble life in a humble house, and I let my emotions get the better of me more than I'd like to admit. I did joy, but I still felt like I had failed. I wasn't a better person. I hadn't reached the golden conclusion.
Well, that day in the high school media center not only brought me encouragement from my new friend, Pastor Paul, but also brought me wisdom from someone who has known me for a long time. In one exercise where we were asked to share more intimate worries, I found myself sitting across from Rita C. - a beautiful, pure soul who I've turned to for encouragement and love and spiritual guidance many times since living in Mora.
I don't remember exactly what I confessed when I was sitting across from Rita that day. All I know is that I cried (surprise, surprise) and left with a slightly soothed soul. She reminded me that my value is limitless and that all the checkboxes in the world can't measure my worth. I'd been trying to measure something that might not be able to be measured. I was flailing about to find some way to prove that I was winning at life, when all I need to do is just be. I was also reminded that becoming a better person doesn't have a finish line - it is a lifelong journey. It was okay that I hadn't arrived because the destination, if there is one, is constantly changing.
And, so, my #oneword for this year is Focus. I'm ditching the checklists and the measuring sticks and checkboxes and I'm going to try to just remember the basics of being a good human. I want to learn to love myself and to do so unconditionally. This is maybe going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. It means I have to love myself not just when I'm doing things well, but even when I'm not. I need to learn to love myself regardless of the number on the scale, the size of my pants, or the number of calories I consume. I need to accept myself as the beautifully flawed person that I am and just be okay with that. I need to care less about what others thing and more about what I know in my soul about who I am and what my purpose is.
I think I know how to begin this process, but those words are for another day and another blog post because, as is my habit, this has gotten too long.
So, if you've joined me on these pages in the past, hopefully you will continue. But, if not, that's okay too. Michelle Obama has said so ;)
Comments
Post a Comment