Need to Do

Herringbone Boots (Source)

Confession: I am a do-it-yourself, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, miss independent fixer. I see the need for change, and I want to do something about it. I hear the toilet running incessantly, I figure out what is loose and I tighten it. I feel like my space is empty and bland, I add some artwork or colorful pillows and blankets. I feel stressed by the uncleanliness of my bedroom, I clean it up and organize.

This can be a great trait to possess, until I try working with others. Throughout my schooling, I have always struggled with knowing how to work on group projects and the like. I like things to be done the way I do them, which is usually thoroughly, efficiently, and effectively. I have a hard time leaving space for others to offer their ideas because it is easy to do it myself and get it done as quickly as possible. I like to have control and know that things will be the best they can be according to me. Try applying this trait now not just to working with others in the short-term but also the long-term, like long-term friends, roommates, or boyfriends...yeah, it gets messy.

I find myself wanting to fix all of those people, too. I see their stress, I hear about their pain, I sense their frustration or unhappiness, and I want everything in the world to make it right. I am still trying to decide if my motivation is driven by my care for them or by my desire to ease the discomfort of being around people who are upset. Hopefully it is at least a mixture of the two. The important thing to note, though, is that either way there is just not that much I can do to make those situations better or to fix them. I cannot keep a person from feeling or thinking what they think or feel. I cannot offer an attempt to understand unless they are willing to help me understand. I cannot force conversation or laughs. I cannot help people sleep or heal their illnesses. I struggle so much with knowing what to do, and that's because those situations cannot be solved by the rules of a doer.

Relationships often offer me an opportunity to learn to be. Instead of doing, being requires listening, sitting, hugging, words of empathy, moments of silent affirmation, stepping back when I just want to step further in... it's a seemingly passive role that is hard for a doer like myself to adopt. I think I have the ability to sense when someone is off, when someone is having a bad day or a bad moment, and whether that is a blessing or a curse, not being able to do something to fix that off moment is maddening for me. It's best that a doer, however, learn to adopt the role of the be-er (not of the alcoholic persuasion, of course). Sometimes the best thing I can do is simply be present for someone and support them in that way.

You know, now that I think about it and apply the doer attitude to other things in the world, I do kind of grow weary of people exhibiting the extreme, revolutionary sort of attitude. It takes a lot of energy to be a doer and sustain that go-and-do attitude all the time. Trying to actively change the world for the better is often exhausting and sometimes blinding. It's important, too, to note that people's struggles need not always be fixed or eased despite the natural inclination for things to be as such. There is something to be said for being uncomfortable or struggling (although I certainly do not write off reconciliation, redemption, and the like). Often those situations are the ones where we learn the most, and denying someone that learning experience for my own comfort's sake is clearly not fair. I hope that I can continue to understand what kind of posture I can assume as a be-er in order to learn to be the most caring, selfless, and supportive friend to those I love. That is my desire, and I hope that I can be shown some of the same compassion and grace in my attempt to form that identity of understanding. I think my counselor would cite my need to practice "radical acceptance," and I think that hits the proverbial nail on the proverbial head.

Address the Mess

So, my life is a mess.

It seems like these moments culminate unexpectedly even though I can often feel them building. I slowly realize that I am spreading myself too thin and just barely making it on my own while seemingly pleasing those around me without being completely open and honest (because I don't seem to have the time or energy to do so). Then it all backfires, and I am stuck wanting to just sleep all day because I don't know what else to do to make it right. Or I know what to do but I am overwhelmed by the simple thought of it.

It's funny that during these times, my surroundings sort of mirror my internal state. My room has been in shambles for weeks, every week getting a bit worse. I like having space and being clean, but it's usually the last thing on my list of priorities. Daily life often catches up to me and cleaning doesn't always fit in the day-to-day.

So here I am, lying on he carpeted floor of my room between piles upon piles of books, receipts, bags, teaching supplies, and half-packed boxes while writing this post. I have about three concert updates I want to write for you guys, but those will have to be put on hold at least until I can clean up some of the mess. I think I will have to start with my heart, though, instead of my room, which means its time for some journaling. Not for you to see, though. Sorry :)

Wishing for this escape right about now. Greystones Harbour, Ireland

Scaredy Cat

I'm not afraid of spiders, and I'm not afraid of snakes.
I'm not afraid to let you know that my heart breaks.
I'm not wishy-washy--I'm passionate and free.
I just have problems knowing when to let you in to see.

I don't know how I end up in unnecessarily vulnerable situations. It seems to happen, especially during the months where I am living alone.

Examples:
When I first moved to Indy-- car got broken into.
Winter time-- a person who I thought I could trust persistently invited himself to my home.
Today-- door-to-door solicitors sneakily made themselves comfortable with me and my furniture, asking for food, something cold to drink, and to use my bathroom.

I get really shaken up by this stuff, even if not on the outside. My heart starts racing, and I feel my face turn red from the embarrassment of not knowing how to get out of the situation. I become fearful-- fearful that I said too much, fearful that I put myself too far out there, fearful that I will be taken advantage of... Maybe I expect too much from people. Maybe I have too high of ideals for the world around me. I carry the innocence of a child a lot of times, and that innocence begets a pestilent ignorance, whose pestilence begets a sharp and nasty sting.


My parents always taught me to be overly cautious, to the point where I have develop a severe struggle with a lot of anxiety and self-deprecation. Since the start of college, though, I have been working to overcome paranoia, anxiety, and unnecessary fear in order to live a life full of trust. Unfortunately, when trying to overcome something so extremely ingrained, one may tend to fall extremely into the opposite way of life.


In my case, when I went to college, I saw people who were capable of and willing to loving me, and I embraced vulnerability a bit too much, only to be hurt and confused. I am still learning to balance vulnerability with discernment in my interactions with all people, whether intimate friends or acquaintances. I am learning about maintaining boundaries. I am learning that no one and nothing can separate me from the love and mercy that God has shown me, and that even though I may make mistakes and trust people too much or not enough, I do not have to fear those mistakes. I should not fear the strange men who waltzed into my apartment today. I should not fear saying the wrong thing at my interview tomorrow morning. I should not fear what my neighbors think of me when I sing worship songs with my windows open.


Though the world around me may crumble, my God still shelters me in his hand. Though I may die, emotionally or physically, my God remains faithful. Though I fear and struggle, he does not leave me to struggle on my own. Though our struggles are abundant, we grow in character, learn to trust in the unseen, and learn to help others trust as well. I hope and pray that my struggles bring others to understand the God I am learning to trust more and more. Our God is the most faithful and caring friend. He always holds us, loves us, refines us, and saves us from ourselves.