Another Root

 I hit the ground running. I was so ready for change and growth that as soon as I had any direction, I took off. 

Inspired by my own growth and what it seemed God was doing in my life, I began to take on projects in addition to my busy roles of wife, mother to five children and full-time employee.

Each opportunity felt like a divine appointing for service, connection and growth. 

I held multiple roles in a recovery fellowship, and several roles within the church we were apart of. I was working full-time on these projects while still trying to show up for my family and at work. 

It started to feel like the walls were caving in on me. Times of rest didn't provide me with the rejuvenation I needed. Nothing seemed to help. When one task was complete, there was always another waiting to be finished. I never felt rested, or relaxed. No amount of napping or taking a sabbath weekend made a difference.

I tried to share how I was feeling but it seemed that people didn't believe me, or take how I was feeling seriously. I felt judged and ridiculed when I let anyone see how much I was struggling. 

In addition, a series of events had eroded the confidence and trust I had in mentors. It became clear that I wasn't working for what I thought I was.

While this was hurtful, it helped me to realize that nobody was looking out for me and it empowered me to look out for myself. 

I gradually quit everything. 

This kicked off 4 years of darkness for me. I almost lost my faith. 

It was all triggered by burn out. 

It took four years for day to break on my Dark Night, and I'm still in the process of re-engaging in life. I'm careful what I take on, and I'm much more prone to say no. 

I've learned that programs aren't a means of relationship. Working alongside other people doesn't automatically lead to communion. Those things take intention and commitment. So I've learned to divert my intention and commitment to the right things. And to fewer things. 

I take things one step, one day and one moment at a time. I show up. Repeatedly. In the right spaces. 

I'm practicing though. This isn't something I've gotten down pat. I'm practicing. 

 To read the next installment in this series, click here.

Walking Off Into the Sunset

 
It all ends with the cast of characters walking off into the sunset. Living happily ever after. 

And that's how I imagine it. A dramatic crescendo leading up to the moment when everything I've worked for and my earnest desire culminates in the epic conglomeration of a new me. One without ADHD symptoms, social anxiety, an ongoing struggle with depression, one hundred extra pounds, a propensity to overreact to having to repeat myself and my family putting dishes on the counter instead of in the dishwasher. 

If I can read the right book, think deeply enough, be honest with myself enough...the road will eventually lead to that sunset. Right?

But here I am at 41, still wrestling with all of the above things. 

What I'm coming to understand is that I can enjoy that sunset, even if it doesn't cue the happily ever after music.  The road leads there, even when it doesn't end there. The sunset can still take my breath away. Even with my ADHD symptoms, social anxiety, perpetual depression, one hundred extra pounds and a propensity to overreact. 

Maybe it's easier to recognize and revel in the little piece of Heaven that it is when my flaws highlight the contrast. 

I'm learning that life is more about consistency than epic growth spurts and before and after pictures. 

Instead of getting it all right being a prerequisite for showing up, I show up until I get it all right. Instead of waiting for the black and white to be clear, I show up in the gray area and learn to decipher between hues of gray. 

Maybe I don't have to wait for everything to fit perfectly together to walk off into the sunset. Maybe the sunset is something to focus my eyes on and enjoy while I'm walking down the path, tripping over hurdles and learning to walk with more precision and consistency.