Remembering the New Now

When someone's life changes drastically in any way, it can oftentimes be hard to remember that it’s no longer the same as it always was before. This can be the case for any number of major life changes. A move, or the loss of a loved one, or the ending of a relationship...

We've grown so accustomed to life functioning in a certain manner, that even when the loss literally occupies a majority of our thoughts, it can still be easy to forget that circumstances have changed at all.

When my husband left me, rare were the moments that weren't consumed by his absence and all of the emotions that came along with it. However, I would still catch myself forgetting, somehow, that he was no longer around. No longer in my house. No longer part of my life.

I would still want to text him at random times to see how his day was going. I would still look forward to telling him about something that happened at work. I’d still type out an email to share the link of an article I knew he'd enjoy. I’d still roll over at night reaching for his presence in the darkness. It was as if these things were instinctively occurring without any mental effort of my own, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to prevent them.

I remember going to the grocery store for the first time by myself and trying to decide what I should buy for just me. How much milk would I drink on my own? How much deli meat would I eat in a week? Then I strolled down the cereal aisle and got excited when I saw that his favorite brand was on sale. I reached for it, pleased to get a good deal, and then realized that I’d no longer be needing to buy that specific cereal, because he would never again be eating breakfast with me for the rest of my life. My hand hung in mid-stretch while I re-remembered. (And then I broke down and sobbed in the cereal aisle of Publix for this brand new loss, because feelings are real, and they need to be felt. #embracingauthenticity)

Isn’t that weird? Even though the entire grocery trip was focused on my New Now, I still forgot that this specific detail of the Old Way was no longer my reality. 

Has this ever happened to you? Have you still looked forward to spending lunch with a coworker even though you no longer work with that person? Have you still turned left at that intersection toward your old house, even though you moved weeks prior? Have you still anticipated your pet’s welcome home when you walked in the door, even though you sadly had to put him to sleep months before? Have you still wanted to call your grandmother on her birthday, even though she passed away years ago? Have you anxiously anticipated a Friday night relaxing at home with the one you love, even though that one no longer loves you?

Every time something like this happens to me, I’m surprised by the forgetting and then heartbroken again by the sudden re-remembering. It’s like I have to relive the devastation over and over anew. And, quite frankly, that sucks.

Early on, my therapist consoled me by describing our lives together as a giant tapestry, and explaining that I’d have to approach each stitch one-by-one to remove his intertwinement and then resew my single threads into a new pattern. The new design couldn't be embroidered until I had approached each, individual stitch and handled it distinctly.

Even though I've known on a broad scale that everything is different, I still have had to encounter each unique experience to deliberately replace the old with the new. Again, this sucks. And it's not anything I can prepare for. I can't preemptively handle a stitch ahead of time. I have to just wait until it naturally comes along, and I never really know when that will happen.

Sometimes, enough time passes that I think I’ve finally accepted and realized it all fully. But then, out of nowhere, March Madness begins, and I have to resist the urge to ask him how his bracket is doing. (Or a variety of other unanticipated situations.) Generally, when these lapses in memory occur, I chastise myself into believing that I should be over it by now, and what in the world is my problem? 

However, I’m trying to extend a little grace to myself in this regard. I need to be patient with my recovery from such a tragic life loss and readjusting to my New Now. It takes time. More than a dozen years together can’t be replaced in just a few months. It’s going to take a while to cultivate and embrace the New Now.

Recently, after I had gotten more than a little irritated with myself about how long this process of unraveling and reweaving is taking me, my therapist offered reassurance by explaining that it’s an actual physiological phenomenon to adjust to change. In very layman’s terms: My brain has had over a decade to literally build grooves for common pathways of thought, and it will continue to take the path of least resistance unless forced otherwise. Every time I fall back on my instinct to think the way I did when we were together, it’s simply because that’s how my brain has been trained to act over the years. It’s not because I’m weak, stupid, or naïve. So, likewise, every time I’m in a position to respond the way I had grown used to in the past, I have to literally stop my brain from relying on those well-worn trenches and consciously make an effort to create new paths. It’s hard work, you guys.

In light of this, I’m trying to give myself a break. When I’m attempting to combat neurological synapses that are incredibly solid from years and years of reinforcement, I can’t expect them to be overcome in a short while with comparatively weak connections and shallow grooves.

That’s a relief.

Maybe I’m not crazy. 

Maybe you’re not either.

Maybe it just takes a while to adjust to any major life change. Maybe it takes a lot of effort to retrain our brains to fully function in the New Now and completely accept that the Old Way is no longer applicable. Maybe that’s why they say "time heals all wounds," because time to encounter all of these experiences is exactly what is required to reprogram our brains to embrace the New Now.

Maybe we’re just humans doing our best.

And maybe we’re not alone in the struggle.

Feel your feelings

Feelings are weird. They’re these constantly present inanimate objects that we continually interact with, whether or not we actually acknowledge them.

Contrary to some popular beliefs, feelings are real. Sometimes we try to give them the cold shoulder in hopes that they’ll get the hint and kindly disappear. Or we politely yet firmly shoo them away into the closet under the stairs out of sight and out of mind. Most often, however, we struggle to outsmart them with logic and explain to them why they don’t make sense and are therefore invalid. But that doesn’t make them any less real.

Feelings aren’t meant to be ignored, shoved away, or chastised. Feelings are meant to be felt. So why don’t we?

In our hearts, we’ll pretend like the sincere emotions we’re feeling aren't accurate. We’ll tell ourselves that we don’t have the right to be sad, because other people have it much worse, so we need to suck it up and just be grateful already. Or that we don’t deserve to be pleased, because we’re just a crappy piece of crap, so why would we think we could feel joy? We each have all kinds of unique baggage we've collected over our lifetime that goes into our handling of our emotions.

Feelings are scary and hard, and we want to avoid them. All of these emotions are small indicators of who we really are, and self-reflection and -evaluation is difficult, y’all. We peek into the dusty storage unit and see all of the broken pieces hiding just behind the feelings, and we close the door tight, too afraid to dive into the mess.

Furthermore, feelings are complicated. Many times I have felt two conflicting emotions simultaneously. I’ve been contently alone and desperately lonely in the same morning. I have been genuinely happy for my ex and terribly sad for myself at the exact same moment. I’ve been sincerely relieved by a change and unbearably heartbroken by the same loss. Does one negate the other? Absolutely not. But, I’m telling you, it’s complicated.  

Many times my head and my heart don’t align. I’ve known and fully believed all of the thoughtful, honest things that any friend would say to cheer me up, but still been devastated, nonetheless. My head knows “it’s better this way,” “God has a plan,” “you’ll be stronger in the end,” etc, but that doesn’t make the emotional pain of the moment any less agonizing. So it gets confusing.

In general, I’m a crier. It’s my physical response to the majority of emotions, both positive and negative. If I’m truly feeling anything at all, my tear ducts are a dead giveaway. However, even understanding that this is my primary method of processing emotions, many times I’ve acted as if crying is a privilege I simply can’t afford. I lecture my heart, saying I need to “pull myself together” and move on, rather than embracing the authenticity of the moment.

I’ve gotten very creative at distracting myself from the true emotions happening inside me. Maybe you have, too. I’ll stay busy in a variety of awesome ways by packing my schedule full of activities and great time with friends. I’ll dive into work, or escape into a different reality through books, tv, and movies. I keep thinking that eventually the feelings will get the hint that I don’t have time for them nor need them, so they’ll just discreetly take their knapsack and head back home.

Some of my emotions have been so intense, I’m completely convinced that if I actually “go there” and allow myself to feel them wholly, I’ll never be able to come back. Once the flood gates are opened, I’ll surely drown in the heavy undercurrent of the crushing waves.  I've convinced myself to ignore the true emotion and maintain the superficial happiness, because if I alternatively embrace the sadness, I’ll never be cheerful again. Like it’s an unwanted house guest that won’t ever leave after it’s been invited through my door.

Irrational but true. 

Luckily, however, that has never happened to me. Just because a feeling is felt, doesn’t mean it must become permanent or monopolize my life forever. Feelings may change from moment to moment or coexist with other feelings of equal or varying intensity. I don't have to be so afraid of their dominance.

I promise, if you can work up the courage to open the locked door and peer into the darkness to examine and become acquainted with one of the emotions you've tucked away, you won’t get trapped in there, too. Instead, you can become friends with it, appreciating its value for what it is. Nothing more; nothing less. You’ll no longer fear inviting it to join you in the future, because you’ll have acquired a mutual understanding with this emotion that it isn't a guest who will never leave. It can come visit when you need it, perform its necessary task, then go back home into the feelings room with the wide open floor plan and unlocked door.

It takes courage to interact with our emotions. It takes a great deal of strength to embrace them and own them and give them space to exist. Crying, instead of a weakness, is one of the bravest things we can do.

Not all feelings are accurate depictions of reality. (Just because you feel unlovable, doesn’t mean that you are unlovable.) But all feelings are real. Regardless of whether or not they are true, the feeling itself is always authentic. They may not be what's expected. They may not be what someone else would feel. But they are your's, and they are real, and they are valid. Don’t let anyone try to talk you out of them. Nobody else can know what they are or tell you what they should be. Only you can feel your feelings. But you’ve got to actually feel them, whatever they are. Go on. You can do it.

It takes time to sit in emotion. It takes determination to explore it. It takes courage to discover the underlying mess. It takes wisdom to decide where to put it and how often to revisit it. 

But it’s worth it.

Once you realize your true feelings, you don’t have to share them with anybody else (although, I certainly suggest it), but please, for your own benefit, at least share them with yourself. Learn them. Know them. Grow acquainted with them. They aren’t as scary as we think they are, and they aren't bullies trying to take over and ruin our lives. Feelings are part of who we are. They’re our core. So go ahead, work up the courage to feel your feelings and get to know yourself. You won’t regret it. And I'm so proud of you.

Story time

Is it narcissistic to share your personal story? To talk openly about things that are wholly and completely you? To confidently express your hopes, your dreams, your desires out loud?  To bravely reveal your fears, pains, and heartaches to others? To candidly admit your flaws, failures, and shortcomings with ownership? Is it egotistical to open up your life and expect others to give two flips?

I’ve experienced many internal feelings since I started this blog a couple weeks ago. I’ve had a lot of self-doubt and concern of who would even be interested in my silly life and why would people take the time out of their busy schedules to read a few poorly constructed sentences of my thoughts. (Or more like a small novel in each post, because I’m super verbose and don’t know how to be concise. I can admit the facts. #sorrybytheway) I’ve chastised myself for being so arrogant to think that anyone would be interested in my internal opinions or remotely invested in my world. Or that anything I would ever have to offer could possibly apply to another person or provide comfort to someone hurting or guidance to anyone searching.

But here’s the deal: It matters.

My story matters.

  

And so does yours.

Our stories are what make us who we are. They matter, because they are the tales penned by the Master Author. We’re each a breathtaking mosaic comprised of broken pieces of a lifetime of experiences: feelings, joys, pains, victories, losses, transformations, longings, love – our stories.

I’m not composing this blog so that the world can gather in masses and fawn at my feet in adoration. Not at all. I’m compelled to write these posts, because I want to live in a world where people, especially women, are honest and transparent. I want to exist in a community where we can strip away the surface and dive into the guts of what make us human beings. Because when we’re merely human, we’re all the same; we’re all in this together; we’re all brethren enduring this human condition on earth as best as we can. I realize that if I want to live in a culture of acceptance and grace, I have to do my part to cultivate the love. Thus, this blog.

When other people are vulnerable with their truths, it boosts my courage to unveil my reality in kind. Likewise, at times when I have been upfront about the deeper parts of my humanity, I have proudly witnessed others step up and join me in that raw space created with tears of joy and of sorrow. On both sides of that coin, the authenticity has not generally been exposed in a public manner, but every time, the ability to lay down the burden of disguise for even just a moment in the presence of another human being has been a massive relief to the soul. That freedom to be yourself is worth pursuing with ferocity.

In any situation, one person must take the first step toward genuineness, or else we all continue to meekly parade our charades of the life we think others expect from us. Someone has to break the status quo and lead that conga line off the dance floor and into the basement of hidden things.

Could it be you? Could you initiate a Revolution of Reality in your world?

I’m certainly not the first one to call bullshit on that sparkling, cumbersome façade we proudly and shamefully uphold, but I want to stand up loud and proud and join the movement toward authenticity. That’s the world I want to live in, so that’s the life I will choose to lead. #bethechangeyouwanttoseeintheworld #clicheandtrue

I’m no longer going to listen to Satan’s casual lies about how self-centered I must be to have the audacity to put my words into digital ink or to verbally express them to those around me. I won’t succumb to the insecurity that what I have to say isn't worth saying or being heard. Or that the exposure of such grit would turn the world away in horror. This is my story, dagnabbit, and it’s real. It’s hard, and it’s broken, and it’s painful, and it’s beautiful, and it’s mine, and it’s real.

It is not narcissistic to share your story. Because I long to hear the stories of others, I’m learning that it is selfless. It is courageous. It is strong. And it is necessary.

We need each other. We need each other’s compassion and acceptance and love and space. We need your stories to know that our stories are valid and welcome and permitted. (Disclaimer: I will later contradict this statement by arguing that we do not need anything from anybody at all, but, instead, to find our personal integrity from within ourselves and our value from Christ alone. But for the purposes and language of this particular discussion, I’ll still stand by this statement.) Getting to know each other on a more intimate level helps us to further acquaint ourselves with the Author of our lives, and at the very core of our beings, what we most intrinsically need is to know God.

We do not need to feel like we must fit into a particular mold in order to also fit into a community. We do not need to feel like everybody else has it all figured out and we’re the only idiots who can’t ever seem to get it right. We do not need to continue pretending we’re someone false just to find a place in the world where we can artificially belong. We do not need to be judged by other people’s perceptions of our lives, nor do we need to pass judgment on others based solely on our limited awareness of their particular situation. We do not need to put on a happy face when we’re broken inside, because we don’t feel we are able to show any unpleasant emotions. We do not need to constantly keep our composure for the sake of someone else's comfort and hide our true selves in the process.

What we need is each other. We’re all people. We’re all humans. We’re all children of God created in His image for His glory. What we need is a safe place to be our true selves. What we need is the courage to be our true selves even when there is no safe place available. What we need is the freedom to discern who our true self even is.

Sharing our stories with one another helps accomplish all of these things. It uncovers hidden realities. It removes clouds of secrecy. It shines light into the shadowed corners of our fears. It joins individuals who have been dwindling away in isolation. It allows us to show compassion to others, because we know what they’re really experiencing. It helps us understand the purposes for behaviors and reactions. It eliminates pressure to conform to an ideal that is exposed as impossible to uphold. It lets us know that we're not alone.

I have recently made a conscious decision to actively pursue the woman I want to become, and I want to grow into a strong, bold woman who has the courage to explore, discover, and claim who I truly am. I’m realizing that it takes genuine strength to evaluate, identify, and express your emotions, and I’m up for the challenge.

I long to rest in an environment where the honest stories of people’s lives are openly and bravely shared, so I’ll open up the floor by starting with mine. This blog will explore my ragged and wonderful story, which God is perfectly authoring.

I humbly invite you to join me. I would love to have some company here.

What is your story? What aspects of your life make you who you are? What have you experienced? Witnessed? Endured? Accomplished? What has shaped your perception of the world? Of Christ? Of yourself? What are you scared to reveal to others? What are you hesitant to explore even internally? You don’t have to share your story with me. (Although I would love for you to and would be greatly honored if you did.) You don’t even have to share it with another person at all. (However, for the sake of humanity at large, I certainly encourage that you do.) But I implore you to at least share your story with yourself. The more you recognize the components of your own story, the more confidently you can identify your true self.

Grown-Up Snow Day

[My beautiful, snowy house]

Today is a snow day. You know how I know? Because I said so. That’s why. And that’s the only reason why in my case.

There’s no one else in my life to tell me so, which means I have to declare it on my own. I don’t have a principal to call off school, and I don’t have a boss that will close the office for weather events. (It is tax season, after all.) I just have to decide for myself what is best. I don’t have anybody to bounce things off of or provide advice or suggestions in times like these. It’s all part of my new, single life. I, alone, am responsible for me. 

Duh. That’s clear. I know you just read that sentence like it’s an understood truth for everybody in the world, and could I just be a little more Captain Obvious, please. But take a minute and think about it.

Sometimes, don’t you share your self-responsibility with other people? And isn’t that actually oftentimes kinda nice? When I was young, there was always an authority over me who had the final say. First, it was my parents. Then, in addition to them, my school teachers and other officials. As I got older, I gradually assumed more responsibility for my own actions, but still, I had the guidance of other people to help me navigate through each of life’s obstacles. Eventually, that partnership came in the form of a spouse.

Now, even though I am positive that my personal dysfunction and insecurities led me to participate in a relationship where I surrendered more of my individual control than is ever healthy, much of me, like I'm guessing many of you, still enjoyed sharing the responsibility of my life with another human being.

But now I can’t do that. Now, it’s all up to me. If I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. If I want it done, I have to be the one to do it. And on days when I wake up to multiple inches of snow on the ground in Nashville, I have to personally decide if I’m going to go into the office or stay home. Sure, I take the news reports into consideration, as well as the actions of some close coworkers, but ultimately the decision is solely up to me.

So, this morning, as an independent, responsible adult, I woke up, saw the beautiful, terrible snow on the ground and still pouring from the sky, turned on the news, decided I’d wait a few hours before I’d risk the roads, and went back to bed. That sounds great, I know, and the extra sleep truly was, but I actually don’t want to be missing any more work. You see, I’ve already had to use a ton of sick time to cover the snow days from this unusual winter we’re experiencing, and I’m intending to save as much paid time off as I can in preparation of any unknowns that might crop up during the remainder of the year. When I skip work, I’m still the one who has to pay for it. So if I had it my way, I’d go to work today from 8:00 to 5:00 just like every other Monday through Friday and not have to worry about it. But today I had to decide.

I eventually woke up again at 9:00, which was truly fantastic; let’s be honest. But then I still had to figure out what I was going to do for the day. I equal parts wanted to spend the day tucked away in my pj’s snuggled up with my dog as well as go to work, earn my paycheck, and save that sick time for any unforeseen events in the future. Missing work and utilizing sick time ultimately hurts no one but me (although the office is essentially effected), and, likewise, going to work to ration my paid time off benefits no one other than myself. So I had to decide what to do. For me. By myself. #againCaptainObvious

I wanted both options, and I also wanted neither. And there was no other presence in my life to influence me either way. I’m not going to lie; there was a moment this morning I wished I could just follow instructions and not have to make any decisions. But that simply wasn’t the case. (I’m also not going to lie even more: There are many moments of many days that I wish I could just follow someone else’s instruction and not have to be an independent, responsible adult, having to make my own decisions. But now that’s never the case.)

So I decided to be a grown up and venture out into the white tundra to pursue my lively accounting firm smack dab in the middle of Tax Season. I had to decide whether it was time, whether I was ready, whether I wanted it, whether it was safe enough to risk, whether my primary responsibility was to my job or to my safety. I watched the final minutes of the news reports that mentioned slow traffic movement with surprisingly minimal accidents thanks to the Nashville cititzens who are heading advice to stay off the roads. I checked my maps app on my phone that showed yellow (slow) movement along my route to the office with no wrecks. I figured I could chance it. In that moment, I wanted to be in the office and all that comes along with that, more than I wanted to not be in the office and all that comes along with that.  #decisionsandconsequences

I got dressed, packed my lunch, said good-bye to my favorite pup in the world, climbed into my protected car, and pulled out of the safe garage into the fresh inches of snow. I received a boost of confidence when I saw a couple other tire tracks leading out of various driveways in my neighborhood, indicating that other people had also left their homes, presumably safely. I drove carefully on the side road, even though there is no one in my life to say “drive carefully” as I leave the house. I felt confident-ish enough on this freshly packed snow to make it to the office and get in a good day’s work.

Then I made it to the main road. I had to pass a car diligently attempting to evade the precariously nearby ditch. I had to turn down Taylor Swift and keep my hands on 10 and 2 to avoid treacherous ruts left behind by previous, brave drivers. I had to ever-so-slowly stop behind cars at red lights and then struggle to not spin out like those near me when we started inching forward again. I had to maintain control of my car when I slightly fish tailed on that downward slope near Walgreens.

And then I had to make the grown-up decision that this was not worth it. I wasn’t even to the interstate yet, and I was already feeling uneasy about the travel. I maybe could have eventually made it to work, but I didn't want to then have to drive back home in the dark on these same dangerous roads that could possibly have grown even worse over the course of the day. So I independently decided to slloooooowwly make a U-turn and head back the way I had come - a failed attempt at driving to the office, and a successful exercise in independent responsibility.

Nobody gave me “permission” to call it a day. Nobody listened to the details of my story and sympathetically replied, “Yeah, that’s not worth it. You shouldn’t risk it. Go home.”  Nobody was there to encourage me one way or the other. All of these things I took for granted for so long. Today, I had to decide what was best for me, by myself.

Today is a snow day, because I declared it a snow day.

I gave it my effort and still decided I didn’t trust my driving skills combined with my small car in these unsafe driving conditions. I came to the personal conclusion that I’d rather use 8 more hours (8 more hours!) of my sick time than attempt to drive to work and risk a potential accident.

I know this all seems so silly and trivial, but it's just today's current example of why sometimes it’s really weird being single. I know that people love and care about me, but on a daily basis concerning minute-to-minute functioning, my actions affect no one other than myself. Nobody really cared if I went to the office or if I stayed home. Nobody was frustrated or pleased by my decision to turn my car around, leading me to finally let out a sigh of relief as I pulled safely back into my garage. (Besides Chester, who acted like I had been gone for 58 hours upon my return.)

It’s strange knowing that there is virtually nobody else in the world who is even aware of what I decide to do on a regular basis, let alone who genuinely cares about it. There’s no other person who is as equally invested in my life, actions, decisions, and the coordinating results as I am. I don’t know if you can really relate to that unless you’re a single adult. I know I never could have before.

I went straight from school to marriage just like a “good little Christian woman’s” life is supposed to (another soap box for another day), and I never experienced true aloneness or the responsibility and freedom that accompanies it. Before, I would have absolutely said that each person is solely responsible for him- or herself, but I wouldn’t have known exactly what I was talking about. Yes, ultimately that is the truth, even in any sort of relationship. But sometimes, we take for granted how nice it is to be able to share that responsibility with someone else.

But then again, sometimes it’s nice to not.

Welcome to my life.