I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.
Psalm 38:8
I've been struggling for the last week to come up with a way to describe why, turning ideas over in my mind, writing and re-writing until I get frustrated and throw in the towel. This didn't come as a surprise to me; my ability to express myself in writing has always been, on some level, linked directly to my state of mind. And while I would not go as far as to say I've been in a bad place mentally, it has certainly been a strange one.
I turned 25 at the beginning of the month. I don't really make a big deal out of birthdays (as noted in my previous post) but man...was September ever one of those months where that stupid number paired with various events playing out around me sent my emotions all over the place.
Realistically, I know 25 is still very young and, at 25, I have accomplished a lot of things. I've made my way through a university degree, which was paid in full before graduation. I found work in my field immediately and a combination of luck and God's good grace put me in a great spot to turn what started as a four month internship into a full-time job. Every day, I talk to people and tell their stories and although I don't think I'm the greatest writer/reporter to ever live (far from it!), I have received some recognition for my work over the short span of my career.
At 25, I don't worry as much about how in the world I'm going to pay my bills or whether I'm going to have to eat Kraft Dinner and peanut butter sandwiches for every meal this week or if I can afford a trip to the dentist or not. At 25, I'm in a spot where I was able to trade in my old, unreliable car for something newer, even though the insurance doubled. At 25, I have a degree of financial security that I've never had before.
Of course, it's not all about material benefits. At 25, I have some really fantastic friends, a solid group of girlfriends, an amazing church community I'm looking forward to diving into more and a partner I am in love with completely.
Basically, 25 looks pretty swell. Scratch that - it IS pretty swell. Knowing that should be a cause for calm - for contentment, for peace. Some days it is. Other days, not so much.
^ I started this post about a week ago.
I was sitting at Starbucks, feeling run down and struggling to find a way to articulate why. Those six and a half paragraphs took the better part of an hour to get down. I'd write a sentence, read it over, delete it, re-write it, delete it again...you get the idea. True to what I wrote in the second paragraph, my ability to write is often linked directly to where I am mentally. When I was writing last week, it's fair to say I was in a strange headspace. I stopped writing because the shop was closing and figured I'd finish it when i had more time.
Well, it took about a week to find that time and what a difference that week made.
That's not to say last week was sunshine and roses - it really wasn't. I was working the early shift and while I would like to one day be an early bird, as it stands, I'm a nighthawk so there were a lot of tired afternoons. Friday was particularly long, the result of interviews late in the afternoon, which meant I was at work from about 7 a.m., straight through until 5 p.m. On top of feeling burnt out from work, there has been some other stuff happening in my life that doesn't involve me directly but definitely has an impact on me (vague, I know, but it's not my story to tell). All that taken into considered, it doesn't appear a lot has changed.
But it has. Somewhere between writing those words last week and writing these ones now, a fog I didn't really know had settled over me has lifted. The result? Mental clarity, peace of mind and no longer feeling like I'm breathing underwater or like my heart is being squeezed too tight.
And all I can say is PRAISE GOD because I know he deserves all the credit for that much needed shift in perspective, that reminder to stop worrying (after all, worry? Just worship to sin) and just...let God be God.
This is all over the place. I thought about deleting all the angsting from last week and starting again, but I think it's important for me to be honest here. Despite working at a job that very much requires a degree of extraversion, I've realized I am actually a huge introvert. I'm not a life of the party type, preferring small groups of close friends to large crowds. I express myself better in writing than I do in spoken word and I'm getting better, but I'm not great at being emotionally vulnerable. All that to say I'm pretty good at putting on a front for the sake of self-preservation.
But I'm working on it. God's working me through it. And, as it does, his grace is making all things new.
I don't want to be left in this world tonight.
Am I alone in this fight?
Is anybody out there?
I was sitting at Starbucks, feeling run down and struggling to find a way to articulate why. Those six and a half paragraphs took the better part of an hour to get down. I'd write a sentence, read it over, delete it, re-write it, delete it again...you get the idea. True to what I wrote in the second paragraph, my ability to write is often linked directly to where I am mentally. When I was writing last week, it's fair to say I was in a strange headspace. I stopped writing because the shop was closing and figured I'd finish it when i had more time.
Well, it took about a week to find that time and what a difference that week made.
That's not to say last week was sunshine and roses - it really wasn't. I was working the early shift and while I would like to one day be an early bird, as it stands, I'm a nighthawk so there were a lot of tired afternoons. Friday was particularly long, the result of interviews late in the afternoon, which meant I was at work from about 7 a.m., straight through until 5 p.m. On top of feeling burnt out from work, there has been some other stuff happening in my life that doesn't involve me directly but definitely has an impact on me (vague, I know, but it's not my story to tell). All that taken into considered, it doesn't appear a lot has changed.
But it has. Somewhere between writing those words last week and writing these ones now, a fog I didn't really know had settled over me has lifted. The result? Mental clarity, peace of mind and no longer feeling like I'm breathing underwater or like my heart is being squeezed too tight.
And all I can say is PRAISE GOD because I know he deserves all the credit for that much needed shift in perspective, that reminder to stop worrying (after all, worry? Just worship to sin) and just...let God be God.
You give hope, you restore every heart that is broken
oh, great are you, Lord.
We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.
2 Corinthians 4:8-9
This is all over the place. I thought about deleting all the angsting from last week and starting again, but I think it's important for me to be honest here. Despite working at a job that very much requires a degree of extraversion, I've realized I am actually a huge introvert. I'm not a life of the party type, preferring small groups of close friends to large crowds. I express myself better in writing than I do in spoken word and I'm getting better, but I'm not great at being emotionally vulnerable. All that to say I'm pretty good at putting on a front for the sake of self-preservation.
But I'm working on it. God's working me through it. And, as it does, his grace is making all things new.
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