Category: Wonderings

‘Tis the season…. For trying to get stuff done before everyone goes on leave, for cramming in that one last meeting, discussion, or difficult conversation.  For wondering how on earth we’re looking at a new year already.  For simultaneously missing and longing for the magic this season once brought while enormously grateful for the reality of what is now.  For looking back with grief and pride and looking ahead with questions and anticipation, for navigating the dichotomy and what feels like ridiculous extremes that somehow also coexist perfectly together. The human experience, I suppose.

Most people I know are eagerly anticipating or have already engaged in time with family, flights across an ocean or a trip down the street, complete with twinkle lights and traditions, new and old, religious celebrations and festivals, or just relief at some time away from the daily grind.  I’m not doing any of those things this year, except maybe a little break from the daily grind, and I confess I feel a little bit of something, maybe guilt or shame, about the fact that I’m not sad about it. 

I’ve started and stopped writing this at least a dozen times in the last few weeks.  This season once held so much majesty, wonder, awe, love, excitement, hope, darkness, light, anticipation, joy, and peace, and I felt all those things deeply. This year, if I’m honest, I’m feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief and contentedness… and peace, I guess, in the lack of depth of any other of the deep things I feel like I ‘should’ be experiencing. But as I sit with it, and sit with words, and try to identify what this all is…. Maybe I’m recognizing the gift that is just… peace, while surrounded by such extremes.

Covid is spiking everywhere.  Nearly two years of loss and it just keeps piling on. Political division keeps getting impossibly louder and even more insistent and disgusting. Family members aren’t speaking to each other.   I love my job, it’s a dream, but it’s also sucking me completely dry right now, with one unexpected curveball after another.  My longing to do this well is fogged up with an objectively ridiculous yet insistent dread in the pit of my stomach that I’m making the world worse instead of better.  Horrific news stories seem to be a daily punch in the gut and I often find myself wondering how much more we, the collective, can take.

But then in the flip of a switch I feel overwhelmed with gratitude when I consider all the good I’ve been surrounded with this year.  I look down the hallway towards my husband and I can’t even believe, still, that he said yes and we get to wander through life together, forever. To be loved and cherished and to love and to cherish is just… so much.  Words fail. I’m so grateful. I’ve got my dream job, I live in an incredible place, my family is coming to visit in a few months.  I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, physically and professionally, I’ve learned so much, and the future holds so much possibility. 

So instead of profound words or magical holiday experiences, instead of being caught up in the extremes of the human experience this year, I’m finding myself just grateful for a few days of relaxing close to home, and being okay with the fact that the only holiday décor I have is the Santa shirt I put on Jay. Maybe someday this season will feel magical again, but actually whatever this is? Peace, contentedness, rest, love? it’s pretty awesome.

May Peace find you wherever you find yourself this holiday season.

So I’m tentatively dipping my toes back in the blogging habit.

Why?

This is a great question, one I’ve been asking myself hundreds of times in the last few weeks and months.  I love to write.  Writing out my wonderings and ponderings help me to sort them out for myself in a way no conversation ever can. Documenting my experiences and travels allows friends and family to live vicariously through me, to see and experience places they may never have the opportunity to visit themselves. It’s an honor for me to do that, and I enjoy when others do the same… to share a glimpse into the abundant favor and incredible joys I am so privileged to feel and see and document.  I don’t take that lightly.  Sharing these things also helps me to remember them; to go back and read some of my blogs from my time on Mercy Ships for example, brings me back to those feelings and places in such a rich way I find myself on my knees in gratitude every time I wonder at this incredible life I get to lead.   And, finally, somewhat selfishly, I do wonder if there is a book in me to write; when the time is right and the words are ready, and this is a good way for me to hone my craft, this art I love.

So why not?

Because people. 

People can be cruel.  And judgmental.  And hurtful.  And hateful.  I’m lucky in that I don’t get a whole lot of nastygrams, but then again, I tend to write about things that aren’t controversial.  That’s intentional.  But I don’t really think it’s right. Maybe. For me.  I don’t know. 

I suppose one can say who cares what others think as long as it’s from your heart?  To which I say yes, I get that, and I believe it, until… people change. Opinions change.  Things I was once passionate about, sure about, wrote strongly worded blog posts about… I no longer feel the same way.  Once you put words out there, as we can see with decades-old tweets landing celebrities in hot water, they will never disappear. 

Personally, I’m relieved and grateful social media wasn’t a thing until I was in my late 20’s, as I can only imagine what kind of cringe-worthy idiocy I might have proclaimed as truth in my early years.  Even now, when I’m reminded of things I posted ten years ago in my Facebook memories, some of them make me feel just a little bit sick to my stomach.  Or irritated.  Or just roll my eyes at my own naiveté,  ignorance, and lack of perspective.

But that’s all a part of growing up; of expanding our perspectives and ideas and understandings of how things work in the universe… or maybe more accurately, expanding our understanding of all the things we don’t really know anything about, and we also become more comfortable admitting that.  There’s just so much I don’t know and don’t understand, and who am I to think I have any reason whatsoever to share my thoughts and experiences?

I don’t know, I go back and forth. I guess it comes down to the fact that even if only a handful family members read this for the purpose of keeping up on my life, and I enjoy the process of doing it, then it’s worth doing. Working out words, massaging them and forming them to reflect and contain the exact feelings I want them to embody makes me feel alive.  Even writing this I feel the blood humming in my forearms and in my fingertips, my brain stretching and searching to find just the right cadence and commas and creative allusions that, once found, I look at with pride, this thing I’ve created.  I can only imagine that is why painters paint and sculptors sculpt and songwriters write song after song, regardless of who things it’s ‘good’.  Because there is a painting or sculpture or song in them to create and not obeying that calling is depriving the rest of us of something beautiful.

So let us begin.

Tropical Cyclone Eloise tore through Mozambique last week and made her way to South Africa, and then like that weird colleague who can’t ever recognize social cues she has refused to leave and instead has decided to park her remains right over Gauteng Province, providing excessive rain for a week now and for as far as the weather forecasting apps can project into the future.

Last Saturday was an idyllic summer day – hot, around 93f, and a couple of friends and I lounged on floating chairs in my pool and drank champagne because I’ve decided in 2021 I’m not saving champagne for only special occasions. We talked about this and that and all expressed our gratitude for the lives we lead, that our regular Saturday is the stuff of dreams for millions and billions of people, not without it’s costs, of course, but truly an embarrassment of riches. 

Now I’m wrapped up in my nana’s cosy winter robe complete with snowflakes on the sleeves and slippers on my feet, as if it’s the middle of July in the far southern hemisphere and not the middle of the hottest season. My pool is so full it resembles an infinity pool and my plants are so happy it’s like I can see them reaching out to the heavens in gratitude. Or maybe that’s desperation to keep from drowning, I’m not sure.

And I’m just thinking about how drastically things change, like 93 and sunny one day to 60 and rainy the next… like a life filled with social gatherings turned to life in almost total isolation in a matter of days… like when one decision can change the entire course of the relationship, or the situation, or the future, in the blink of an eye… and somehow, we, as humans, are the only piece of creation that has the option to choose how we react to these changes in our environment and our lives.  In that space between stimulus and response, we get to choose.

It’s not always easy to choose gratitude, or hope; to bite our tongue when lashing out feels like the right choice, or letting anger or bitterness or hurt or betrayal direct our next steps or words or actions or beliefs.  It’s not always easy to get out of bed and go for a run or lift those heavy things or move our bodies even though we absolutely know that it’s the best thing for our mental, physical, and emotional selves and everyone else we interact with afterwards.   The cost of this idyllic life is spaces of desperate loneliness, lack of motivation, and the creeping vines of depression always trying to find a place to lodge themselves and take hold. 

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I’m not saying everything needs to be sunshine and roses and all it takes to turn things around is to think positive and we always have a choice.  Not at all.  There are so many different bits and pieces and phenomena at play, including physiological and environmental that may or may not allow us to actually choose our response.  But in those situations we still do have a choice – to change our circumstances. Or just be okay with the feels sometimes, because we’re human and that just comes with the species.

I knew January would be tough.  I came back from an absolutely magical vacation to quarantine, lockdown, and isolation, along with the daily grind of work during covid and nothing at all exciting on the calendar for 2021.  It took me weeks to get back on my regular sleep schedule and over jet-lag and I had some nagging pain in my back from sleeping on airplanes and hauling a heavy backpack through airports.  Shortly after I got back there was an insurrection in my homeland and covid cases were skyrocketing and my new boss was delayed in arriving and it felt as though absolutely nothing was going the way I had hoped, dreamed, anticipated, desired… and I felt guilty about it all. I should have come back refreshed and renewed and I felt all the guilt and shame associated with the fact that it was harder than it should have been.

But the reality is sometimes things are just hard and at one point I just decided to give myself until the end of January to get it together. January could be a buffer month between the train wreck of 2020 and the long unknown of 2021, where I would be okay with the feels but also do things, too, so that by the beginning of February I’d be back to a functional level of okay-ness and not losing all of 2021 into the pit of despair.  And I decided that if I wasn’t okay or wasn’t able to look at 2021 with hope instead of despair by the beginning of Feb, I’d get professional help.

And then I got out of quarantine and started to see people.  Friends, people who bring me life and joy and laughter (in the safest way we can). I went jogging with Jay, little by little, and started a new workout program. I cleaned the junk out of my fridge and pantry and got back on the food bandwagon that I know helps me feel better, both physically and emotionally.  I got back on the sleep schedule that I like best and committed to reading more and scrolling less.  I did some things I’d put off for awhile and did some other things that I needed to do and both of those things remind me that I really am capable and strong and good and all the things the pit of despair says I’m not.

And here we are, at the beginning of February, and I can honestly say I’m looking at 2021 with hope, and it feels so, so good. 

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Now it’s Sunday night, I started writing this yesterday morning. It’s still raining out, but I managed to have a good weekend, with the perfect combination of movement and rest and productivity and relaxation. I feel ready for the week ahead and looking forward to what it may bring instead of dreading it, which, for me, is one of the indicators of health in my day-to-day life. Another is preparing/eating well-rounded meals that take longer than five minutes and more than one dish to prepare.  I know I’m not in a good place when all I can manage for multiple days in a row is peanut butter toast.  

So as I’m finishing up my really delicious taco salad and close out my evening with a quick walk between the raindrops with Jay, I will say welcome, February, and welcome, the rest of 2021.  Lets go.

I was walking Jay just now, on our regular evening walk around the neighborhood, and as usual I was lost in thought.  Reviewing conversations from today, my reactions to various things, thinking about my upcoming getaway for a few days. In general, I consider myself an optimist, so was surprised at myself when I realized everything I was thinking was so terribly pessimistic.

My much-needed getaway is going to go by much too quickly, it won’t be enough before I have to get back to the grind… and catching back up afterwards is going to be hell.

I thought she was my friend, but I guess not.

My new boss is going to be a nightmare.

I’m never going to convince that person that I’m not the enemy.

This virus is never going to get better, and I’m sure will destroy any plans I hope to make for the holidays.

My dog is going to die someday and that is going to be devastating.

I’m going to be alone forever.

I’m failing at everything I’m working on right now.

I’m never going to be as strong as I wish I was.

And on and on and on.

Like I said, I generally feel pretty optimistic and hopeful about life in general, about the future, about how I’m doing and where I’m going, so once I recognized and realized this downward spiral of despair I found myself in, I wondered: What is this?

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What we think and what we feel are not always what is true.

So what is true?

It is true that I am professionally tired. I have been pushing and pulling and convincing and corralling and editing and creating and cheerleading for many months without reprieve, and I need to detach from that for a bit.  Will the time away I have planned be enough? I have to trust it will be.  Every single time I’ve ever prayed for ten hours of sleep to somehow fit in the four I have available I’ve never been left disappointed.  So my prayer for this week is please give me a month of rest in a few days’ time… and trust it will be done.

It’s true that this is a lonely season; meeting new people and interacting with new friends is challenging when navigating a global pandemic, but it will not be forever.  It won’t.  And in the meantime, I can reach out to friends I haven’t talked to in months or years and reconnect thanks to the wonders of the interwebs and video calls that still leave me in awe at how star-trek-esque they are.

Being real and true to who I am, even if it’s not liked or appreciated by everyone I’ll ever interact with is still the right thing to do.  I am here on earth not to be popular or admired or someone else who never upsets anyone, but rather to be someone who loves well while pursuing what I know to be right and good,  no matter what the cost may be.

The virus will eventually be history, the election will eventually be over, this b-grade post-apocalyptic movie we have found ourselves living in will one day be that one thing that happened that one time, just like every life-altering event that I’ve ever experienced has.  The thing I need to remind myself is to not just waste away life waiting for these things to be over, but rather identify the issues at the core of the desperation, the fear, the anxiety, the despair; because those are things that will still be around, even after whatever event we’re waiting for or dying for is over. They’ll just attach themselves to the new crisis of the day, one we can’t even imagine yet.   

So tonight I need to surround myself and fill myself with these things that are true and allow them to settle deep into my despairing heart: I am doing the best I can with what I have and that is really, really good.

And I’m much stronger than I think.

Have you ever heard of the Enneagram?  If not, go ahead and check out the Enneagram Institute,  or Integrative Enneagram. 

In short, it’s kind of like a personality typing mechanism, such as the Meyers-Briggs,  or a workplace behavior analysis like DISC – except those tools are meant to look at and predict behaviors.  The Enneagram looks at motivations.

You really should check it out. And just one tip – the experts say don’t just take a test and go with what the test says, because the best a test can do is measure behavior, and we are notoriously bad as humans at lying on tests to get the result we think we want or we think is right or good. So sure, take the test, but also read into the different descriptions, and listen to podcasts, and sit with it until you find what is truly you.  It’s common to mistype, I did at first.  More enneagram resources and podcasts are linked at the end of this post.

SO anyway, as you can tell by the title of this blog post, I’m an enneagram one.  And the more I learn about it, the more I see myself, and the more I uncover about what and why I’m me.

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The One is often labeled as a perfectionistic, but I prefer reformer. Idealistic, self-controlled, purposeful, principled, problem-solving, often frustrated when the rest of the world isn’t these things. Boy can I relate.  Ones tend to believe there is a right way to do everything and want to make a difference with their lives. Now remember, this is a measure of motivation, not behavior, so you will definitely find ones that are perfectionistic in how they clean their house or fold their towels, while other ones are perfectionistic in how they approach problems at work or expectations they have of others. 

One of the hallmarks of a One is the existence of an inner critic. It’s as if there’s an inside voice that is constantly reminding you about your inadequacies, or pointing out your weaknesses, or showing you more problems that need to be solved, or reminding you of that one mistake you made decades ago that (so she says) was about as awful as any heinous crime you can think of in the history of the world

She can be a real nuisance, plain and simple.  But also? She is a rule follower, a visionary, willing to do anything it takes to do things well and good and leave the world better than it was before.

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Here’s some ways being a one plays out in my day-to-day life.

In overarching terms or when I can step back and look at the big picture, I know I’m good at my job.  But on a day-to-day experiential level, my default assumption is I am failing.  According to my inner critic, there’s a right way to do everything and unless I know FOR SURE I’m doing it exactly right (i.e. following the instructions and guidelines and rules perfectly, when they exist), then I assume I’m probably blowing it (i.e. when the instructions/guidelines/rules aren’t clear) and am already anticipating the conversation we’ll have when they (whoever is in charge) point out that I blew it.  But I didn’t know.  Because if I did, and it’s completion was within my control, it would be done well.  And turned in before the deadline.

Another way it’s played out recently is a couple of weeks ago I received some feedback that didn’t feel awesome and also felt completely out of left field.  Something I had written could have been interpreted differently to what I intended… something really minor, that was likely forgotten almost immediately in the crazy that is this work and this world, but in the moment I was shocked and devastated, and for days afterwards, (and still today, if I’m honest) I feel absolutely horrible about it. That darn inner critic keeps reminding me of what happened, and also says things like how could you have been so stupid…. Yeah, they definitely regret hiring you.  No one will ever be harder on me than I am.

So for example we’re writing and editing a lot of documents at work right now; new SOPs, guidelines, policie,s and forms, etc.  I have one colleague,  a friend who works in another country, who readily shares her draft documents with everyone else across the continent… which I find super helpful. But also? I’m awed at her bravery.  Because I can’t do it.  I can’t share when I don’t know for sure I’ve met the (often unclear) expectations of those who are expecting to receive these docs… and unless I know I’ve done it right, I’m sure I’ve done it wrong.

One of the most helpful things about learning about the enneagram was I realized that not everyone has this inner critic berating them like I do. I assumed it was universal, and then was (am?) shocked and frustrated when other people don’t seem to care as much as I do about being on time, meeting deadlines, saying yes to things that are important even though I don’t really have the bandwidth, following the rules of law or basic human goodness, etc.  And what do you mean that not everyone wakes up in the middle of the night and analyzes (and feels awful all over again) about that one mistake you made decades ago? and you’re re-scripting and re-scripting and rehearsing what you’d do and say if it ever happened again? Oh, it’s just me?  Yeah. It is. And many of my enneagram one friends.  But knowing it’s just me, and not the expectations of everyone in the world, often I can tell that inner critic to buzz off.

But the motivation for all these things comes from such a good place – I want so badly to do well in doing good, not for my own benefit but to know that once I get to the end of my time here on earth, I’ll look back and know I’ve done everything I can to leave it better than it was when I came into it.  And hear the words, well done.

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I love learning about myself, about the inner workings of human behavior and motivations and logic or lack thereof.  Learning about the enneagram, recognizing and understanding the motivations behind my behavior has helped me put into words and explain to others… at the same time I also have a lot more grace for people who tend to run late or don’t care about rules or whatever else that’s very different to me. 

I’d love to hear from you! Do you know the enneagram? How does your number play out in your day to day life?

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Some of my fave resources:

The Road Back to You (please support local/independent bookstores if possible!)

Jen Hatmaker’s For the Love podcast did a series last summer

Annie F Downs That Sounds Fun podcast did a series the last two summers in a row! (It was the 2019 series I fully recognized I was a One and not the type I had mistyped earlier)

Enneagram Institute (linked in first paragraph) – I go back here often when after conversations with others or when I’m wondering where a particular feeling or thought is coming from.

What are your favorite resources?