Journeyer, I came across this quote while reading Glennon Melton’s
post Sacred Scared.
Wow, just wow…
Glennon has this beautiful and forceful, yet gentle at the same
time, way of reminding us all that we are okay just the way we are.
In Digging for the Light,
I talk about how I was that terribly scared person, held back from living my
best life both before and after the rape, but how I also realized that even
when I didn’t think I was attaining any type of productive, inspiring, and not
anywhere near some sort of wholeness, I actually was.
I was probably afraid. Of
myself. I’m guessing I believed the whole incident was my fault.
I was the one who was in the wrong place.
I must have done something to deserve the trouble I’d
gotten myself into.
Everything was always my
fault.
Something was wrong with me.
So I thought.
Dad and I never spoke of it
again.
Forget about it. What’s
done is done.
That was the message. And
that’s what I tried to do. My mom didn’t know until years later.
But it stalked me: I
couldn’t see it, and I didn’t know what it was, but I could smell
it, like a tail-flicking, ears-pointed, hoof-stomping deer.
* * *
Sometime near the end of my
junior year, I changed. It happened practically overnight, and the change in my
behavior, my attitude, and my lifestyle shocked everyone.
I started drinking a lot,
which frequently brought me to a state of depression and tears. I occasionally
skipped school and developed an “I don’t give a damn” attitude.
Outwardly, I portrayed a
confident, gregarious, mature-beyond-her-years girl with a warm heart, deep
emotions, and a little flair for the dramatic.
Inwardly, I felt like a
confused, babbling, didn’t-measure-up, massive flesh of insecurities.
This divergence of self
existed for many reasons: some inherent and likely gender-related, some
culturally induced…and for some I may never know.
I realize now that the brewing
turmoil had existed long before that fateful night at the bar. It was probably
that night, however, that became the catalyst for my outward expression of the
internal conflict I’d bottled inside for so many years.
You see, even though I didn’t feel confident or
outgoing or like I was making any kind of positive impact in this world, I was.
And as my counselor so poignantly pointed out, “People just can’t fake that
stuff, Annah. Not even you.”
Though I absolutely agree 100% with Glennon,
that we all need to feel empowered to show up with our grubby hands and messy
lives to do the things we are called to do, I also believe this: That it is
equally important that we recognize all of the little things in our life that
indicate that we are moving forward, that we are living and breathing and
accomplishing something, even if it
is just brushing our teeth or opening our eyes and then choosing to close them,
again, because we feel as if we don’t have it in us to stay awake or get out of
bed.
Those are choices,
Journeyer.
Choices.
That choice is an indication that we are doing something, that we are alive, that we
are not victims of our circumstance, but rather someone who is capable of
deciding what we are going to do in the face of something crippling. And we are
taking action, Journeyer, even when it feels like we aren’t doing what we want
to be doing, we are…we are just choosing one action over another…
Even when we are telling ourselves we want to
be doing something different than eating all sixty-four-ounces of Mint-ting-a-ling
straight from the carton, and that Depression or Grief or Loss or Circumstance
are in control…we are the ones making the choices…
We might tell ourselves that our choice to stay
home and hide beneath the covers or behind a half gallon of ice cream are a bad
thing, but I ask you this? Is it? Is the choice to give ourselves respite or to
actually sit with our sadness, to honor
our grief, a bad thing?
Now, I’m not suggesting that we make a life out
of staying beneath the covers, buy stock in Ben & Jerry’s, or one of walking
around with the stench of depression hanging like a cloud around us. But here’s
the thing, all too often we feel as if that depression or grief or loss or
chaos or [insert your word] is our identity, when in essence it is only a part of us.
I believed my depression
consumed me entirely, that it defined me, that
I was barely functioning, that I was at a standstill and everything was passing
me by.
Obviously, that was not the
case.
I did function.
I was moving.
I was breathing.
I was alive with energy, even if I didn’t
recognize it.
Read on as I summarize a mere
portion of events I wrote about in my journals.
* * *
I laughed and played with my
children and my husband. There were trips to McDonald’s™, the mall, a light show,
movies, and a ”Miracle on 34th Street.” Swimming and snow angels and
frosty snowmen. Home videos, photos, puzzles, and games. My creation of the
“grouchy monster,” a silly monster that nibbles on you in your sleep and makes
you cranky in the morning. Two Halloweens, two Christmas celebrations, four
custom children’s birthday parties—including the transformation of our yard
into Pooh’s Hundred Acre Woods. One birthday celebrated in heaven. Numerous
other celebrations. Two Father’s Days, a Mother’s Day, an anniversary getaway,
family gatherings, Easter bunnies. Valentine’s hearts. Kissing and making up.
Pre-school and kindergarten, stories and nap time (a lot of the latter for me)…
Those of us
who aren’t living our best lives are often holding back because of some sense
of loss: Loss of security, confidence, courage…
As Glennon
points out, we tell ourselves that we have to “be ready” for the next challenge
or course of action, that we have to have reconciled our conflicts and to have healed
our hurts before we can move forward into the life we want… a different life
from the one we have.
So many of
us get stuck here because we have some sense that we aren’t in control, that we
are puppets to our circumstance…
Acknowledging
that we are breathing, moving, and functioning not only buoys us, it’s like a
mega dose of encouragement.
Accepting
that we are the ones making the decisions about our decisions is empowering and
motivating.
Knowing
little about Georgia O’Keefe’s life, I did a quick search to discover that this
brilliant artist’s early life included many hardships; that she left the work
she loved for many years because she didn’t want to conform to the styles she
had been taught; that she became involved with a married man, one who was a big
driving force behind the recognition of her artwork; and that she suffered a nervous
breakdown in her mid 40s, which is attributed in part to the affair her husband
had with a much younger woman.
I don’t know
when in her storied career she made the statement at the front of this post,
but I do believe that taken out of context it appears to be some magical,
effortless piece of advice, like some invisible shield that protected her and
allowed her to walk right past those fears, thumbing her nose at them and
giving them the finger with her other hand.
Sometimes
we make choices that turn out to be not-such-a-good-thing for us. I would
surmise that after her husband began an affair with another woman, O’Keefe
questioned if she shouldn’t have seen that writing on the wall when he left his
previous wife for her.
I certainly
know that, when my clothes become a little snug and the dial on the scale
climbs, that I lament my weeks of food abuse.
What do we
do when those thoughts creep in?
We often
get depressed about being depressed, we eat more ice cream all the while
fretting about the calories, we become even angrier about being angry in the
first place, our sadness becomes even sadder, and before we know it, we aren’t
sad or angry or depressed, we are Sad, Angry, or Depressed.
I think
there are three parts to O’Keefe’s statement: Fear, Failure, and Forgiveness,
maybe?
Times in
her life when she felt crippling fear and loss. Times when she succumbed to
those things. Times when she forgave herself for those things she considered to
be failures, thus allowing her to forge on living her best life.
That said,
looks like there are four parts to O’Keefe’s inspirational statement and what
we’re seeing are the first and the last.
Fear.
Failure. Forgiveness. Forging on.
Though we
cannot control fear, we can control how we react to it.
We can also
choose to perceive failure as a pitfall or a stepping stone.
We can choose
to accept failure as inevitable and grant ourselves grace and gentleness for
those times we err.
We can choose
to keep moving forward, trying new things, having open minds, and believing…believing
that we are worthy, just as we exist in any given moment…
J.M.
Barrie, the brilliant mind behind Peter
Pan, has this to say about failure: “We are all failures-at least the best
of us are.”
Less
literally, we aren’t Failure, but we are beings who fail.
The most
significant piece of that truth is this: When we aren’t failing, we are
succeeding…
It is
impossible to fail at everything and quite possible to be successful in many…
Acknowledging
our accomplishments and those little, daily triumphs, is the armor we need to
walk hand in hand with fear and failure, to embrace them in a manner that will
enable them to enable us to live our very best lives…
And if you
don’t believe me, check out these videos, and see for yourself one of the ways Glennon
Doyle Melton and Elizabeth Gilbert
accomplished great things all the while being human and living with fear…
Let’s be
human together, shall we?
No comments:
Post a Comment