Buckle Up
This week I went to a mandated library workshop about self-care. (Lol-The humor of that sentence is not lost on me: Mandated.Self-Care.Workshop.) We got to take our pick of a cute box to fill with goodies. This one was propped high and I was drawn to it because a) It was a sweet encouragement for our adoption -or- b) I wanted to light it on fire.
Find joy in the journey. Uggggh. For any person faced with a mountain difficulty, this phrase is minimizing to the point of insult. Like a throw-away platitude or over-used Bible verse. Like seeking revitalization from a root canal. And spoken to someone in the midst, it's simply white noise.
Can I tell you what DOES help? Room for authenticity. Space for uncomfortable honesty. Everybody needs a safe place to air their ugly, since holding it in only poisons one person-OURSELVES! Listen: I'm not giving you a license to gossip or be a butt or take things out on those closest to you. But DO find a constructive way to express your inner turmoil, the stress, the less-than-holy thoughts. Talk to Jesus or a trusted friend. Journal. Exercise your feels away. Find a good counselor. Drink wine and watch Netflix. (Wait, is that constructive?)
But, on the flipside, let's be WAY THE HECK less judge-y. Because we're probably clueless about the deep depths of others' experiences. In her book, Simply Tuesday, Emily Freeman shares how cathartic it was to have her "small" sadnesses (brought on by a emotional, but desired career change) confirmed at a counseling session:
So don't diminish another's hard, but also don't diminish your own. Yes, the world is full of suffering people. You might have loved ones who've experienced the awfulest of awful. But internalizing your legitimate pain because (like Emily said) you "aren't dying or in poverty," can end up draining your life force. Comparison is a killer. My girl Tracey recently relayed a sermon illustration about how a toe injury seems minor, until it's YOUR toe that's injured. Then it hurts Every.Step.You.Take.
The things I treasure most -Marriage, knowing Jesus, being a mom, adoption, friendship, the act of writing, even the ability to exercise- have HUGE elements of gratitude and struggle attached to them. Sometimes simultaneously. The presence of one doesn't negate the other. Instead they offset one another, throwing highs and lows in sharp relief. Part of being human is the drive to seek meaning, usually through what gives us value and purpose. And then we hold tightly to said significance, despite the occasional battle it requires. Because it's worth it.
No one (except YOU) can fully grasp your journey. However, I'm sure you'll find both joy and sorrow along the way. But the potholes on your personal road don't lessen the beauty of the surrounding scenery or invalidate the destination. Perhaps the bumps make us more cognizant of the smooth stretches. Or maybe there isn't always a deeper reason behind the rough patches, except as a representation of life: Both mysterious and mundane, ordered and chaotic, a gift and responsibility. The best we can do is buckle up and embrace the ride.
Find joy in the journey. Uggggh. For any person faced with a mountain difficulty, this phrase is minimizing to the point of insult. Like a throw-away platitude or over-used Bible verse. Like seeking revitalization from a root canal. And spoken to someone in the midst, it's simply white noise.
Can I tell you what DOES help? Room for authenticity. Space for uncomfortable honesty. Everybody needs a safe place to air their ugly, since holding it in only poisons one person-OURSELVES! Listen: I'm not giving you a license to gossip or be a butt or take things out on those closest to you. But DO find a constructive way to express your inner turmoil, the stress, the less-than-holy thoughts. Talk to Jesus or a trusted friend. Journal. Exercise your feels away. Find a good counselor. Drink wine and watch Netflix. (Wait, is that constructive?)
But, on the flipside, let's be WAY THE HECK less judge-y. Because we're probably clueless about the deep depths of others' experiences. In her book, Simply Tuesday, Emily Freeman shares how cathartic it was to have her "small" sadnesses (brought on by a emotional, but desired career change) confirmed at a counseling session:
"Until she {confirms} it, I don't realize how badly I need to hear it. I haven't been comfortable to admit those things because all of this was our own choosing. And we aren't dying or in poverty or in need of basic necessities. My friend and author Leeana Tankersley says often we fear if we admit we're struggling, it may mean we're not grateful. But the truth is, we can be struggling and grateful at the same time...I recognize a hesitancy to admit my struggle for fear it will incriminate me, branding me as a woman who has a beautiful life but doesn't appreciate it."
So don't diminish another's hard, but also don't diminish your own. Yes, the world is full of suffering people. You might have loved ones who've experienced the awfulest of awful. But internalizing your legitimate pain because (like Emily said) you "aren't dying or in poverty," can end up draining your life force. Comparison is a killer. My girl Tracey recently relayed a sermon illustration about how a toe injury seems minor, until it's YOUR toe that's injured. Then it hurts Every.Step.You.Take.
The things I treasure most -Marriage, knowing Jesus, being a mom, adoption, friendship, the act of writing, even the ability to exercise- have HUGE elements of gratitude and struggle attached to them. Sometimes simultaneously. The presence of one doesn't negate the other. Instead they offset one another, throwing highs and lows in sharp relief. Part of being human is the drive to seek meaning, usually through what gives us value and purpose. And then we hold tightly to said significance, despite the occasional battle it requires. Because it's worth it.
No one (except YOU) can fully grasp your journey. However, I'm sure you'll find both joy and sorrow along the way. But the potholes on your personal road don't lessen the beauty of the surrounding scenery or invalidate the destination. Perhaps the bumps make us more cognizant of the smooth stretches. Or maybe there isn't always a deeper reason behind the rough patches, except as a representation of life: Both mysterious and mundane, ordered and chaotic, a gift and responsibility. The best we can do is buckle up and embrace the ride.
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