“The truth has legs. It always stands.” (Rayya Elias)

Rayya passed away at the beginning of this year. I love this line of hers. I don’t know if anyone else has felt this, but it feels like there have been a lot of deaths lately. Lots of friends and family members I know have experienced loss of some kind, and it just has me thinking a lot about grief… It’s such a weird thing, isn’t it? It’s the worst. On the one hand it is the absolute WORST. Grief is horrifying and tragic and I hate it and I wish it didn’t exist.

But on the other hand… I kind of need it. Maybe “need it” isn’t the right way to say it. I desire it? That doesn’t sound right either. I’m not exactly sure how to put this into words. Grief… I benefit from it — I guess. It’s like this:

The death of a loved one to me, on its own, is the worst thing ever. Period. It is in one word:

hell.

At least for a time.

Here is the difference maker:

To me, death without grief is hell without hope.  

But death with grief… it’s hell with hope… it’s a temporary hell (if you will).

Death + Grief —> Hope….

Hope that someday things will be better.

That someday it won’t be so hard to do the simple things that feel so impossible to do in the midst of loss: like get out of bed, or go to work without crying, or respond to “Hi, how are you?” with “I’m fine, thanks” without feeling like the biggest bullshitter on the planet.

It leads to hope that someday we’ll meet again… somehow… the person I’ve lost and me…

Hope that all that I’ve been through with the person who is gone wasn’t for nothing. Hope that it all had a purpose.

Hope that all the loose ends that weren’t tied up,

all the things that I meant to say when they were alive and didn’t,

all the things I wish we did together,

and all the regrets…

they’re all okay… they’ll all somehow, someday, in some way be resolved.

It leads to hope that the person who died is not really dead,

but alive in a new way that I haven’t totally figured out yet.

Hope that there is a good God out there, and that He’s somehow going to use this whole fucked up mess for something freakishly beautiful.

Grief to me is the bridge…

from dead to alive,

from hopeless to hopeful,

from “How will I EVER EVER be okay” to “Even though it is so not right now, someday, everything is going to be alright.”

What is grief anyway?

Grief; n. “keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.” (Dictionary.com)

Grief actually comes from the Latin word gravare, which means to “make heavy.”

This is the important part for me. The making heavy part. It’s taken me a long time to learn this, but to me to grieve someone’s death is to “make heavy” their death.

To experience the intense GRAVITY of their no longer being here.

To not try and do normal life like I did before they passed,

To not try and brush it all off and put a smile on my face when my insides are scorched for the sake of making other people comfortable,

To not make light of anything that’s just happened.

But to let the reality of the person’s death be as heavy as it is, which is always just way too heavy to bear. … And what happens when something that is too heavy gets placed on someone or something that cannot bear its weight?

It breaks. Naturally. It quite literally cracks under the overwhelming pressure.  

And that is the key:

The breaking. The cracking.

When we allow ourselves to grieve, we can’t help but break under the weight of it all… because it’s just too horrific, when we look death in the face not to, isn’t it?

It’s too unfair. It’s too brutal. It’s too ugly. It’s too gut wrenching. It’s just too damn much.

And it’s in this breaking that lives the hope that I’m talking about. Ironically. It’s in the shitty shitty brokenness that it seems we can begin to heal (and I mean REALLY heal and begin to be okay in our hearts, and not just pretend to be okay with our words).

The problem: We don’t like grief very much.

At least I don’t. Or I should say I didn’t…

For the first 20 years of my life I tried to convince myself that I was somehow above grief… that I could somehow bypass it. Like maybe if I just forced my cheek muscles into the shape of a smile hard enough and kept moving fast enough, I wouldn’t even feel sad about the fact that my grandmother died a slow, brutal, entirely unfair and horrific death when I was growing up (just one example).

The problem is we’re afraid to break. For me, I was afraid because I couldn’t possibly imagine a world where I let myself break and in that same world, would also have the capacity to someday be put back together again. I thought I couldn’t handle the breaking, and so I made it my mission to run from it.

The problem with the problem: We can kind of get away with not liking grief in this way.

We can actually delude ourselves into believing that we are above grief, and can outrun it if we want. The problem isn’t that it’s impossible to do that, the problem is more that when do that… how should I say this… it fucking blows. 😃 You can “move on” with your actions sans grief, but there’s this part of you that still feels unresolved inside because of it… unfinished, icky, bad somehow. That’s what my experience with avoiding grief has been like anyway. (Maybe it’s more pleasant for other people).

Grief as Friend

Anyway, I’ve been trying to welcome grief in as a friend in this season. To “make heavy” the loss that is around me, mostly, selfishly, in order to avoid the feelings of unresolved and unsettled-ness that come with dubbing grief my enemy…

And surprise surprise, throughout this process I am finding myself very much broken under the heaviness of it all.

And it’s awful.

But also wonderful.

It’s weird.

In the heartbreak I’m finding a strange type of liberation that I haven’t experienced any of the times I’ve disowned my grief. I am indeed seeing glimmers of hope.

I guess I’m learning that it’s only when we acknowledge the reality of what is that we’re able to welcome in the hope of what will be.

ALSO, as Glennon Doyle says, our hearts were actually made to break. There’s no need to run from heartbreak, because we were created to be strong enough to handle it.

Grief looks like…

I firmly believe that grief can and should look different for everyone. There is no “right” or “wrong” way to grieve. But here is what it has looked like for me recently (and at different times of loss throughout the past few years). Maybe you can relate.

Grief to me looks like

getting emotional in inconvenient places (and not apologizing for it).

Grief to me looks like

taking my emotions (or lack thereof) in stride. It looks like not beating myself up (and asking myself why I’m such a cold-hearted B) when I can’t seem to cry when everyone else is. 

Similarly, grief to me looks like

being patient with myself when I feel overwhelmingly sad about the loss long after I think I should be “over it”… Grief looks like recognizing that in the same way that I can’t rush grief along, I can’t slow it down either.

Grief to me looks like

locking eyes with death, and saying a giant F you to its face. (I can grieve, but it doesn’t mean I have to pretend I don’t despise death).

Grief to me looks like

going through old pictures, singing and listening to old songs, and going to familiar places that all remind me of the person who’s gone.

Grief to me looks like

appreciating my deep desire to take the pain away from those I love who are also hurting from this loss. At the same time, grief looks like me gently reminding myself that even though I’d do anything to if I could, it is not actually my job to take away the pain for them (nor is it possible for me to).

Grief to me looks like

being patient with myself, recognizing that in spite of knowing on a logical level that I can’t make the pain go away for those that I love, I will stubbornly still always try to (classic 🤦🏻‍♀️)… and then when it doesn’t work, I’ll inevitably try to blame myself for it, telling myself I’m not doing enough or saying enough to make the people I love feel better. Grief looks like constantly reminding myself that I’ve already done more than enough (showing up is my only job), and I can rest in that. I can stop trying to hold together what so desperately needs to break right now (my own friends, family, and self included).

Grief to me looks like

patience (always more patience), anger, confusion, tears, laughter, reminiscing, heartache, grace, pain, joy, and suffering… oftentimes all in one day, and sometimes all at the same time.

Grief to me looks like

viewing every aspect of my grief, no matter how ugly or painful, as an act of celebration of the person who’s passed away, and a palpable representation of my refusal to let them go without proper recognition.

Grief to me looks like

breaking, and then sitting in my brokenness. It looks like hitting Rock Bottom and letting myself stay there for a bit, feeling hopeless… knowing that my feelings don’t equal the truth (or at least the permanent truth) all the time.

{A tangent on Rock Bottom}

a metaphor for grief

A funny things happens when you’ve sat at Rock Bottom for long enough. Any of you who are familiar with Rock Bottom will know what I’m talking about… What I’ve found happens is, after some time (sometimes a LOT of time)… Rock Bottom actually begins to rise… without you even realizing it, because you’ve been so absorbed doing all these things (i.e. looking at all of the brokenness inside and outside of you, mourning with friends and family, missing the person you lost, being present with the heaviness of it all). It’s like suddenly you look up for a minute from all that is in front of you, and you notice a ray of light coming from up above you that wasn’t there before and that wasn’t previously within reach, but now kind of is. It’s small and it’s still pretty dim, but it’s definitely there. Agh. Am I making any sense? Has anyone else experienced this?

What I’m trying to say is:

Grief  = Sitting at Rock Bottom  →which leads to→  Light

Grief to me looks like

trusting that that light will continue to get closer to me and brighter naturally, with time, so long as I keep staying in the present, feeling the heaviness, and letting myself break when I need to. (I will continue to rise in the midst of the brokenness, I don’t need to try to make myself rise. The place where we surrender is the place that God steps in for us).

Wrap it up Bibs, wrap it up.

Okay last thing, which is really the only thing I wanted to say all along before I started sharing way more than just “a word” on grief…

One thing I’m always so starkly reminded of when someone passes away is the fact that virtually NOTHING matters in life…

except Love.

Nothing. Drama, questions, (first world) problems, wants…. None of it matters. Period.

“The truth has legs. It always stands.”

In times of grief, the ONLY thing left standing at the end of the day is Love. The truth is Love. That’s it.

May we never require an event as tragic as a death to remember this in our daily lives.

And to my grieving friends out there: may you know how loved you are, and how okay it is to let your heart break in such a heavy time as this.

—

Photo by Davide Cantelli on Unsplash

Happy (almost) 2018 y’all! I love New Year’s… I know goal-setting can happen any time, but it always feels more official if you set a few goals (resolutions, if you will) at the start of the new year. Here are my top 3 for 2018:

Truth-telling (in realtime)

I have a lot of thoughts/feelings/reactions when I’m interacting with people… (as do most people lol). Something I’m really good at is expressing those feelings when they fall somewhere within the happy/joyful/excited range on the Spectrum of Human Emotions. I’m quick to tell the person I’m speaking with how I’m feeling and expressing that in whatever way(s) feel right. I’m actually also not half bad at expressing sad feelings either.

Something I’m not so good at though, is expressing emotions that relate to being upset, angry, hurt, or confused (conflict-related emotions). I experience these more uncomfortable feelings not all the time, but definitely sometimes in conversations that I engage in, but whenever it happens, I do this annoying thing where instead of talking about it right then and there, or expressing those emotions in the moment, I sort of shove them away somewhere. I ignore them and leave them for later. I think, “There’s not really any conflict here… Now’s not the time to say that.”

I do it as a way to avoid confrontation, and in the process, I try to convince myself that I can’t and shouldn’t trust my instincts when they tell me something is wrong here, that something other than happiness and good feelings needs to be addressed/expressed right now. Then I leave the conversation, and when I’m removed from the situation, I either journal about it alone or talk it through with a close friend or family member. And then one of two things happens:

1. I make excuses and tell myself to let it go.

I convince myself the situation/conversation/conflict wasn’t significant enough to bring back up again with whomever I was speaking with. I tell myself it would be weird if I resurfaced the conversation and expressed myself so long after-the-fact. Basically I tell myself some BS excuse as to why I should be A-okay with whatever happened. I tell myself to just forget it.

2. I get back in touch with the person I was speaking with and I express my feelings after-the-fact.

I’m bothered by what happened and how I’m feeling to the extent that I can’t ignore it. I call/text/meet the person, bring up the past conversation, and express my feelings and thoughts to them then. Up until and during the time that I’m confronting this person about my thoughts, I am nervous AF, thinking about how I’m going to do it, what I’m going to say, how I’ll come off, etc. etc.

More often than not, I opt for Option #1, because (even though I know that unexpressed emotions manifest in some NASTY ways) it’s easier in the short-term to just not say anything and take the easy/cowardly way out.

I’m just starting out, but I’ve tested the waters recently, speaking my mind/truth in the moment in conversations. It’s kind of amazing when I decide to go for it… When I do it I feel so light and real and honest. Issues and conflicts are put on the table and not ignored. They’re resolved right then and there, and they’re resolved so much more quickly than they would have been had I shoved them away and left them for later. And it’s never as scary as I thought it would be either. (Turns out waiting to process and then bringing it back up later is actually what causes a lot of the fear). So I want to do more of that in 2018. More truth-telling in realtime, even when uncomfy emotions/feelings are involved.

Gratitude

(n.) loving what is.

2017 was a year of discovering the power of gratitude for me. As cliche as it sounds, there’s a reason that gratitude is the thing that so many religious, spiritual, and healing people point to as the thing we need more of to be truly happy. So much of our quality of life rides on what happens in our heads. I spent so much time growing up moping around about what was not… I’m still learning, but I want to keep leveraging the power of gratitude in 2018, loving what is, working towards what can be, and not dwelling on what isn’t. (More on this in posts to come).

Boundaries

As a mentor and friend of mine likes to say, “Boundaries are to bless.” I want to make 2018 a year of greater blessing through greater boundaries. A few areas I’m setting boundaries in specifically:

• The things I allow myself to say, both to and about myself and other people
• The people I spend time with
• The things I talk about
• The shows I watch (both the quality and quantity)
• The social media accounts I follow
• The food I put in my body

I can be the type of person that accidentally throws out any and all boundaries in my life for the sake of making other people happy (whoops… any other people pleasers out there?), but I’ve gotten to the point where I really can’t (and won’t) allow that to happen anymore. For a long time I think I thought it was okay to do that, because I like to help other people and I really want them to be happy. (I also really want them to like me.) But it really depletes you after awhile, and I discovered that if I live my life in a constant state of depletion I begin to feel like I’m not actually living, but dying (a slow, steady, and resent-full death), and I don’t think that’s the way life’s supposed to go.

Something that’s really helping me as I continue to set boundaries (relational boundaries*) is looking to Jesus and the way he lived his life. It’s fascinating because for someone who healed as many people as he did, and spent as much time literally saving the world as he did, Jesus set a LOT of boundaries. He didn’t give himself away all the time to all people. He took time to be alone with God, to pray in the woods, to recharge and recoup. (“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” Luke 5:16; “After He had sent [the crowd] away, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray.” Matthew 14:23). While there were always people who needed healing, he had to retreat sometimes, so that he could be filled up and FULL. This way, when he returned to the trenches he’d be able to give from a place of overflow, rather than lack, providing people not with pieces of his broken/depleted human self, but with God’s healing Spirit.

Too many of us are giving away pieces of ourselves, because we haven’t taken the time to breathe for a second and be filled up by God. We think we’re some kind of martyr for never saying no, or for allowing people (ourselves included) to constantly violate our own boundaries. And then we wonder why we’re exhausted and resentful all the time… There are a few select circumstances when making exceptions for certain boundary implementations may be necessary (in rare times of crisis), but a boundary-less life should not be the norm, and if it is, I think we have to make some adjustments. So this year I am making it a point to remind myself that there’s always more work to be done than can be done, and if even Jesus set boundaries (?!), then it’s okay for little old me to, too. Boundaries can be the difference between living from a place of abundance and living from a place of depletion. And the former just sounds so much more appealing to me.

Happy 2018 everyone. Let me know what your New Years goals/resolutions are in the comments below or via email! I’m always on the lookout for more good ones to implement myself… 🙂 Whatever they are, I’m wishing you all the best as you set out to put them into practice.

xo

Bibs

(Photo by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash)

An open, melodramatic letter from myself to myself (re: success)

Dearest Self,  (Lol, too formal.)

Yo Yo Yo Self!  (Yikes, too informal.)

Hey, it’s me. (That’ll work.)

No use wasting time on any introductions or lengthy formal greetings since we already know each other pretty well… so, getting straight to the point:

There are going to be many times in the years to come when people praise you and tell you that you’re better than other people: for graduating, for getting a job, for going back to school, for dating that person you’re dating, for someday buying a house, for getting a promotion, for maybe getting married someday, for following your dreams, and for a bunch of little things in between.

There are also going to be times when people, sometimes even yourself, tell you that you’re worse than other people: for not using that degree like you should have, for not getting a better job, for not getting another degree, for not having a five-year plan, for not having settled down yet, for not having it all together, for following your dreams, and for a bunch of little things in between.

This happens because we live in a world that looks at success as climbing “the ladder.” You’ve heard of the ladder… you know, the very small, narrow, nearly infinitely tall one? The one that 7.4 billion other people are trying to climb up? Yes, that one.

And this happens because we’re taught that the way we get to the top of said ladder is by competing against our peers for one of the few places at the top and by being better than them.

This, in turn, leaves us in somewhat of a pickle if we’re being honest. It leaves us comfortable rooting for other people’s success, sure, (because there is a genuine part of us that’s happy for them after all), BUT only until they start to succeed as much as or God forbid more than us… at which point we’re taught that this person is now a threat to us and our success, and while we can smile and congratulate them to their face, it’s probably a wise idea to

A. Do something to discourage them from climbing any higher and/or sabotage their efforts in some other way

B. Do something to catapult yourself up a few rungs, so as to distance yourself enough that their success no longer poses an immediate threat to yours.

C. Frantically do both A & B simultaneously.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned the last few years is this: Options A, B, & C are all god awful, and the view of success as something available to only the few who make it to the top is really and truly a load of crap.

I’ve learned that all that this view of success does, at the end of the day, is get us caught up in perpetual cycles of jealousy (when other people are “better” than us) and pride (when we are “better” than other people). It makes us look enviously to the “more successful” person to our right and say things like, “Why can’t I be where she is?” and then makes us promptly look disgustedly to the “less successful” person to our left and say things like, “Well at least I’m not where he is.” SMH. This is no good. No good no good no good. And this will not do any longer.

➡️➡️➡️     ➡️➡️➡️

Here’s what I know now: one of the best things you can do as you continue throughout your life is to remember that real success isn’t making it to the top of some teeny tiny ladder. It’s actually a recognition that TRUE success is looking beyond yourself, to the people to your left and to your right, and not asking, “How can I be better than you?” but by grabbing their hands, pulling them close, and asking them the question, “What new thing can you and I create together for the Good of the World that we couldn’t create on our own?”

Success in its purest form is contributing to the rising of human consciousness for the sake of Love and all things Holy. Real success [dramatic pause] is Sacred.

And while there is totally a time and place to use competition as a catalyst to make yourself your best self, the importance of possessing ambition to be better than who you were yesterday far outweighs the importance of any competition to be better than who other people are today or might be tomorrow.

Other things to remember as you go forth:

1. Ultimately, one person’s individual success doesn’t collectively take away from the potential of another person’s success. (So chill tf out)

2. Success is not a limited commodity, because it cannot and should not look the same for everyone. As has been taught in many a motivational workshop, in this context, scarcity is an illusion. (So once again, chill tf out)

3. It’s silly for all of us to try to climb up a room-for-one ladder, when the world was built for ALL of us to elevate collectively. (So just don’t be silly… don’t do it)

Bottom line: if you ever EVER find yourself coming from and acting from a place of “I’m worse than” or “I’m better than” someone else, to put it bluntly, you’re missing the point, and it’s time to recalibrate.

That’s all for now….

Onward and upward (together),

Bibs

(Photo by Samuel Zeller on Unsplash)

As a kid, I remember how exciting it was the first time I talked bad about one of my friends behind her back, and realized that some people gave me more time of day when I did that. I knew I was supposed to show respect to everyone, so I kind of felt like a rebel, talking about someone behind her back, and getting fed the attention that I longed for as the awkward and insecure 5th grader that I was.

Growing up, I remember how oddly stirring it was to yell, scream, and get ridiculously angry at my sister for getting in my way every morning as we’d try to get ready together in the bathroom before school. There was a sense of prideful excitement that came from the hateful words I’d spew at her every day, simply as punishment for her asking to take up a little space in our home, too. I knew I was supposed to be kind to others, but it felt good to be mean – like an exerting of my power, a marking of my territory.

Throughout college, I remember the exhilaration that came from the sheer act of hating myself. I remember how satisfying it felt to reprimand myself for not being good enough according to my impossibly high and altogether distorted standards, by talking to myself cruelly, and routinely engaging in various forms of self-punishment. It was almost like some kind of dirty little secret: making it look like I had my stuff together on the outside (smiling, cheery, and on my way to success), but not telling anyone that my mode of transportation wasn’t one of love or respect for myself, but instead one of hatred and self-deprecation.

—

I believe in a God who is love, and a God who calls us to show respect, kindness, and love to ourselves and others as part of our purpose here on earth. While we no doubt have free will to do whatever we want, and while I am by and large NOT a fan of portraying God as a god of rules (He is so much better than that), in the interest of making this blog post work, you might consider these three things I just mentioned a few key “rules” that God would like his children to follow, for the purpose of the betterment of his world and his children.

So I’ve realized some things lately (which seems to be the reason for most of these blog posts, doesn’t it?).

Well first, I’ve realized that the thrill of breaking rules and the excitement of an adrenaline rush are things that are part of the human experience. I think it’s natural and not necessarily a bad thing that we crave them to an extent.

Second, I’ve realized that I have spent the larger part of my life claiming to believe in these rules, or beliefs, of respect, kindness, and love for all, but have found myself getting my fixes of adrenaline, excitement, and the thrill of rebellion largely from breaking these rules.

Another thing I’ve realized: I am not perfect (seriously, nowhere even close), but I have noticed that I don’t, or try not to, break these rules quite as often as I used to anymore… and yet, my human cravings for adrenaline fixes, the thrill of rebellion, and subsequent excitement are still being satisfied… which has led me to ask the question,

If I’m no longer breaking the rules of God (at least not as much), then whose rules am I breaking? 

—

I can be really fake sometimes. I blame it on American culture, but in reality, I have a natural tendency to be phony and try to act “normal,” and I just never did anything about it. Lately though, I’ve been trying to fight against this tendency. Not all the time – that would be overwhelming for both me and whomever I’m speaking with – but sometimes. Sometimes, I’ve been trying to be more real, and more me. Turns out the real me is VERY different than the fake me. She’s much more quirky and honest. She’s also much louder and more talkative. Interestingly enough, she’s also much more confident. And every time I am the real Elizabeth, it’s the weirdest thing; I feel like the biggest rebel.

It’s like, my whole life, the world has taught me that fitting in, even if it means talking bad about other people behind their backs to make myself look better, and punishing myself into looking and sounding like everyone else, is what’s best. And for the first time, I’m rebelling against the world by being kind of quirky and weird, but real and honest, and even awkward and sometimes insecure… but I’m letting other people see those sides of me in a way that my 5th grade self never did.

If I had to sum it up in a sentence, when I used to meet people, I’d say some variation of, “Hi, I’m Elizabeth; nice to meet you!” then smile politely. And now I’m kind of just like, “Hi I’m Elizabeth this is who I am I’m a little different and weird and honestly most of the time a hot mess but hey aren’t we all do you want to be friends if not no problem take me or leave me!”

The reactions I get are so much more fun and varied than when I just say hi and smile, which makes it all so much more exciting.

Another thing: maybe you’ve noticed, I’ve been sharing more lately on here. Not just words or posts in general, but the last year or so I’ve been sharing more about me, what I stand for and what I don’t, who I hope to be and who I wish I wasn’t… real things, fun things, confusing things, sometimes dark things.

And it’s funny; every time I click Publish on a blog post, or post the link on social media allowing other people to read it, my heart rate goes up a little, my palms get sweaty, and I get kind of nervous-excited… the same kind of nervous-excited I used to get when I would be a jerk to my sister, or punish myself in secret and pretend everything was fine.

To take a common metaphor too far, it’s kind of like all my life, I’ve had LOADS of dirty laundry that I hoarded all for myself and just let accumulate and fester. And now, due in large part to other people giving me permission, and ultimately me giving myself permission, and also just due to the fact that my laundry room is totally full, I’m airing all of my dirty crap out.

A couple things: one, turns out dirty laundry doesn’t smell nearly as bad when it’s out in the open and not tucked away in a tiny room in your home. And two, what’s even better is as soon as you’re like, “Hey guys, look at this dirty laundry I have!” other people tend to react with, “No way, I have that same exact dirty outfit! Look!” and air out their dirty laundry, too. And then it not only becomes much less stinky, but an opportunity is born to do laundry together, and clean things up as a community. And let’s be honest, chores are always way more fun when you’re doing them with other people.

All this is to say that as of late, I’ve been getting my “adrenaline fixes” from breaking rules, but I’ve been breaking the rules of the world that tell us to play it safe, fit in, stay the same, pretend everything’s fine, and act phony around other people. And it’s been working for me.

—

I spent the beginning of my life breaking the rules of the divine, which left me lying in bed at the end of each day, exhausted, but staring at the ceiling unable to sleep, with a pit in my stomach.

I’m finding that breaking the rules of the world leaves me lying in bed at the end of each day quite the opposite: exhausted, sure, but with my eyes closed and a sense of peace in my heart… not to mention much more fulfillment, joy, and true-ness within myself than I’ve ever felt before.

So I think I’m kind of done trying to break the rules of God. Love, respect, and kindness are all good things, and I want to expand those things, not diminish them.

I’d like to spend the rest of my life breaking the rules of the world instead. I think life will be much more beautiful and productive this way… and I think I’ll incidentally sleep much better, too.

If you’re interested in also pursuing a life of breaking rules that are meant to be broken, and/or if you’d like to watch me as I try to do this myself, I would love it if you’d subscribe below.

Thanks for reading!

To the rule breakers of the world,

Bibs

You know what’s fun? Doing something for yourself, just because you want to…. and then not apologizing for it.

Last weekend I went to Brooklyn, New York. I went to hear Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell talk about life and creativity and what it means to live a creative life for a day.

You know what scares me? The comfort in continuity… the fact that so much of what we do is because we’ve created a habit of doing it, or because it’s familiar to us.

Let me clarify… not everything about continuity scares me. In fact, a lot of the times it can be a good thing, because it means once we foster good habits it becomes pretty natural in most cases to keep them up after practicing them for a certain amount of time. It means we have the power to make things like taking care of ourselves and taking care of others a habit, and that’s a great thing. (Not that we should do it simply because it’s a habit, but you get my point).

I guess it’s the other side… the “bad” habits that scare me. It’s scary because it’s unnervingly easy to not even realize I’m doing something I shouldn’t, simply because after experiencing something enough on a consistent basis, it can’t help but become familiar, and somewhat comforting.

Something I think we have a tendency to do if we’re not careful (once again, saying “we” assuming/hoping I’m not alone in this…), is indulge in our self-created pain. We dwell on things that we know we should move past, or continue bad habits that we know God wants us to stop, because it’s comfortable. It almost feels good to disappoint ourselves and let ourselves down, because we know what it feels like.

We know the drill. We let ourselves down. We hate ourselves for it. We wallow in our own self-pity. We say we’re going to change, but are distracted by this or that thing and eventually forget about it enough as we become numbed and distracted by whatever busyness comes our way.

And we do the same thing day after day, month after month, year after year. And we know we’re not going to change, because we’re not really trying to change. We don’t have a real game plan on how to move forward, or if we do, it’s an unrealistic one, so when we don’t succeed in doing it, we let ourselves down once again with thoughts like, “See?! I knew I couldn’t do it,” and quickly revert back to our old ways. So we’ve already subconsciously planned to fail. We let the fear of the unknown get the best of us. It’s easier. It’s less work. It’s predictable. And there is a twisted element of comfort in that.

You know that song by Lady Antebellum that says, “I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all”? It’s so cliche, but it’s true: we’d rather hang onto the past and do what we do best even if it’s not the best thing for us… all in hopes of avoiding “nothing at all” or God forbid, avoiding something better we haven’t allowed ourselves to discover yet.

Obviously this looks a little different for everyone. And it’s not necessarily some horribly awful life-shattering habit that I’m talking about.

Sometimes it’s the simple continuation of a thought pattern… one that keeps us in the past, reliving moments that made us feel wronged, rejected, or upset. That pattern keeps us from picking ourselves up and actually MOVING ON.

And sometimes, instead of a mental state, it’s a more outwardly obvious form of self destruction.

Regardless of the nature, bad habits can often be something little and seemingly insignificant. Sometimes it can simply be something we know that we don’t need to be doing, that’s taking up time we could be spending on doing something better… just something that’s significant enough to cause even a twinge of guilt and dissapointment within us… something that inevitably chips away at the trust we have for ourselves.

I think the solution lies in creating new (realistic) expectations for ourselves, and essentially rebuilding a relationship of trust with ourselves… being patient as we do it, but lovingly leading ourselves into new habits, until eventually the old habit seems like merely an illusion. It takes time, and for some of us, we need to start from the ground up, because we don’t trust ourselves at all anymore. And that’s okay! Healing and change takes time. The beauty is found in the journey to that change, and if you sit back and think about it, it’s incredible that we even have the ability to start over like that.

As it relates to how you treat yourself (and even how others treat you), it’s okay and I’d argue, necessary, that the person you are today, doesn’t stand for the things that you stood for yesterday. It’s time to stop expecting and indulging in pain and failure, and to break free from our self-created chains, and forgive ourselves for all the times we haven’t.

So often God sets us free from things we want to be set free from, and the only thing we need to do is allow ourselves to be free. So what are we waiting for? Let’s stop wallowing in our self-manifested puddle of self pity. Let’s get up, and experience the freedom that’s been ours all along.