Waiting on Calm Waters

Why does time move so fast? I've been 30 for over 2 months and there are only 3 weeks left of the Fall Quarter for my students. I'm still trying to figure out my job and we still have one of our rooms filled with things to make our living space feel like home, but they remain hidden away. There are so many things that feel undone and so much that has happened and I can't really figure out my place in it or how to get grounded.

Here's the thing, for the first time in years, things can finally settle down. I've been tossed around at the mercy of my environment like agitated silt in the bottom of a pond. That's not to say I haven't been trying to peacefully find my way to the bottom of the water once more. It's that I am realizing settling takes time and patience waiting for the water to find its calm once more and murky water to become clear as density works its course.

Even in this new place, I am finding that my environment has remained more chaotic than I had imagined. The waters continue to churn. The silt continues to flurry beneath the surface.

And as I swirl around in the middle of it, I understand.

Maybe I have found where I should be for this season. Maybe there are lots of certainties in areas that had previously been filled with question marks. Maybe there is the thrill of new places to explore and unknown adventures ahead. Maybe there are opportunities to learn and grow and be challenged in ways that I have never experienced before.

There are other things within me that had been pushed aside for a few years in order to simply keep treading the tumultuous waters. With (at least some) assurance of my home, my job, my location, I find those things making a resurgence.

It has been a long time since I have felt the pressure of my perfectionsism and people pleasing and fear of failure significantly affecting the way that I live and relate and work and play. Yet, here it is, in full force.

And it is exhausting.

I forgot how powerful those pressures can be. I sincerely thought I had been managing them better. For the first couple of months in my job, I didn't know what was happening and blamed it on other things. As of the last couple of weeks, I started to get it.

The patterns that had helped me to make it through the past few years won't help the waters to calm, but that is how I have been operating. It isn't working, but why?

Why?

Now is the time for letting go. I have to face what is in my heart, the fears and the brokenness. I need to call them what they are and make space for new patterns that challenge me to face reality and to grow.

I have been the one agitating the water and I want to stop. Just as it takes work to tread, it takes work to calmly float. Floating is the kind of work that needs to be done. Gently enjoying the refreshing of the water while allowing the silt to settle beneath me. Grounded.

With deep breaths and quiet spaces. With an open heart and humble listening ears. I stop. I wait. I be.

What better calm than to be the fullness of what the Creator had in mind.

Living in Crazytown

Sometimes I feel like I am living in Crazytown.

Where is Crazytown you ask? Aw yes, Crazytown is a too often frequented place in my mind.

I find myself entering into Crazytown at the least expected moments. Everything in a day is normal, uneventful, nothing to write home about. And then I remember the text I sent to a friend and that they haven't responded yet.

My mind starts going a million miles an hour.

It's already been 23 minutes. They must be mad at me. I must have said something that rubbed them the wrong way. My friend has a lot going on and I need to be sensitive to that. Did I sound too pushy? I know I do that sometimes. I mean, I really want to hang out, but I don't want to expect it. But I do want to make it clear that it's what I want. Is that manipulative? Am I a manipulative person? Should I have added emoji to make it seem more friendly and less controlling?

Oh no. I should reread the text.

I was trying to be controlling. I am controlling, and it's so engrained in me that I do it without thinking! I'm the worst. This friendship is over, unless I do something quick. I've got it! I'll send a 6 paragraph text explaining why I didn't put an exclamation point at the end with the smiling poop emoji to lighten it up so it didn't seem manipulative. It also proves that I am self-aware, recognizing my issues and being willing to directly communicate about them. Next time we see each other in person, I can explain the 6 paragraphs more thoroughly. With my active listening skills, I also can be sensitive and listen carefully to how my non-manipulative, manipulative text affected my friend.

Wait a minute. Is that too much? Maybe. I don't know? Ugh, I am so indecisive.

23 minutes and 42 seconds.

VIBRATE.

"I'd love to hang out! Can't wait :) So glad you text. See you this weekend!"

Sigh of relief.

I knew everything was fine, I was just....checking. I mean, I know this person really well and have shared life with them for a long time. We both know each other's imperfections, struggles, deepest hurts, and real-life issues. Because of that I am hyperaware. Because I care. Because I love them.

But I am a perfectionist. Recovering. Well, kind of.

Out my perfectionism, with the knowledge of my relationships, in my care for those people in my life, I want more than anything to say things that demonstrate I have listened, I know them, and I am sensitive to that...perfectly. That even in our broken and messy conversations about life, I can perfectly handle it.

I want to be perfectly messy. Most of the time, I try to be perfectly messy. Thus, I live in Crazytown.

Crazytown is the place where my need for perfectionism meets my desire to be real and authentic. More than anything, I want to be able to relate to people, being present with them in every season of life, knowing them and still truly loving them. Subconciously more than that, I want people to like me because I have proved my authenticity and that it is obvious I am better at it than others. Perfect, per se.

That puts me in the fast lane to Crazytown, and slowly, (semi) patiently, I am able to identify that quick pedal-to-the-metal mind game and hit the brakes, pulling the car over into reality.

Yesterday I had the privilege of spending the day with the sister of one of my dearest friends, showing her some of the most enjoyable parts of Los Angeles. Since we each had some background on one another, immediately we were engaged in deep conversations about life, and this season of pain in particular, for each of us. It was beautiful and so very refreshing to quickly experience that with a new aquaintance. Moments like that remind me of why I love being authentic and sharing full life, the peaks and the valleys, with the people around me.

At the end of the day, we said our good-byes with at least 3 wonderful hugs to express what our words were lacking. As I drove home, I headed to Crazytown, worrying if the few words I expressed at the end conveyed enough of the enjoyment and fulfillment that I had experienced with her. All I wanted was for her to know that I loved it. ALL of it.

But I hadn't expressed it perfectly. Or so I thought.

This morning her sister, my dear friend, text me telling me everything that her sister had said about me. It was all that I had hoped to communicate the night before, and assumed I hadn't.

Crazytown wasn't real life. Crazytown stripped me of basking in all that I find pleasure and meaning in: authentic relationships that demonstrate a selfless and life-giving love.

Luckily for me, Crazytown only lasted while I slept, and I was jerked awake, back to reality, to hang a U-turn just in time to see what is truth and that perfectionism, proved once again, is terribly overrated. As is Crazytown.

Death by Comparison

I am better than ___________________________ but not as great as _____________________________.

One of the biggest problems TJ and I have is that I always (don't use absolutes, Lindsey), I mean often compare myself to him.

For any of you that know us both, you might think that is slightly ridiculous. When talking to us both, right away you would notice that we are different and have our own personal awkward quirks. Typically I'm louder and he is more quiet. I talk more and he is content hanging out and observing. Our individual characteristics are both valuable, just different.

How can two people that are so different be compared?

Great question. Thank you for asking.

TJ and I like to do a lot of the same things. We are both creative, pretty hilarious (in my opinion), active, have a love for life and people and adventure. Obviously, this is the short list of how great we are.

A lot of the things that I feel like define me as fun, unique, and even...cool...TJ does too. Some of these things we both happened to do separately before we met. If I have to be honest, there are some things that he introduced to me. But practically everything cool we do can be attributed to me, obviously.

They are very significant things too. Things that really matter in life like surfing, snowboarding, music, random adventures, coffee, cooking, design, throwing a great party, and how to be from Southern California.

As our relationship grows, I find that TJ does everything that I introduced to him better than me. EVERYTHING. (There I go on the absolutes again, but I mean, it's true; it is everything). He snowboards faster, trys bigger jumps, rides switch and beats me down the hill. He can really sing and actually (kind of) plays the guitar. He wants to go out surfing every morning instead of staying in bed for some extra winks. TJ is better than me in the things we do together. Not to mention, he has always been more fashionable and good-looking.

I have lost my identity. No joke. I feel like I can't be defined as the strong, fun, awesome, life-of-the-party woman that I am because next to me is a strong, fun, awesome, life-of-the-party guy that seems to do it better.

When TJ gets excited about something, I don't. I want to be different, and if he beats me to being excited, than I can't be because than people around us will think that I am just doing it to be like him. Only one-person excitement allowed.

When TJ compliments my surfing, I can't accept it because I ride a long board and it is so much easier to surf on a long board than him on his shortboard. He is just trying to be nice and make me feel okay about not actually surfing.

When TJ suggests that we go on a fun day adventure and plans it, I hesitantly go along. I didn't think of it. Clearly, I am not as fun as he is.

Rather than being confident in who I am and recognizing the joy of sharing in these experiences with TJ, I have allowed comparison to literally kill me. I want so badly to be special and unique that being married to someone who actually likes to do almost all of the same things as me becomes a threat instead of something to be celebrated.

My loss.

TJ isn't the only one I compare myself to. I compare myself to you too. You are better at a lot of things. You probably have more stability than me and are better looking. You are aware of your issues and are working through them so well. You have found a career you love or something to work toward that really "makes your heart sing" like my mom always says. You currently are somewhere I am not, doing things that I want to do but can't, with the world at your fingertips. It is all working out for you. I know it is. I can tell because you have the best instagram photos and actually know how to use twitter.

All I want is to be perfect and everyone else in the world is threatening that. By being who you are, I compare myself to you. You remind me of what I am not doing right and how I am missing the mark or that I can't be unique since we are both doing the exact same thing or that my creative party idea is not that creative at all. (Thank you pinterest for giving away every creative idea in the entire world. Ugh.)

I know. It is pathetic. But I also have a hunch that I am not the only one doing the comparing.

The reality is (if you so choose to believe, and it is a choice) that nobody is perfect and every person is unique. Stepping out of the comparison game is liberating. It is the exact step I need to take to actually believing the truth about me. Not defining myself by what I do, but, aw yes, who I am.

Choosing not to compare ourselves to each other takes the focus off of me and places it on you. It gives us permission to see that we are all on this broken journey together, all trying to figure it out. Together we are better versions of ourselves.

Besides,

“Perfection is shallow, unreal, and fatally uninteresting.” ―Anne Lamott

You're not perfect and neither am I, so what are we trying to compare? Instead let's be truth-tellers, adventurers and supporters on this journey. Let's together see what each of us has to offer and celebrate it. Let's together see how each of us need to grow and challenge ourselves, and lovingly, gently, graciously do so. Let's together live fully and stop robbing ourselves of missing out on today by comparing what we don't have.

The last thing I want to be is shallow, unreal, and fatally uninteresting.

And as a public apology to TJ: I'm sorry for not letting you be as awesome as you are. I guess I'll just start having to be awesomer...