Through the Wrong Lens

I have a progressive eye disease that requires me to wear contact lenses to have the most precise vision. They are very tiny, a wee bit larger than a pencil eraser, and the right lens is marked with a small black dot so I don’t mix them up. Today things were a bit blurry but I chalked it up to the Mountain Cedar that’s making it really hard for me to be great and the very little sleep I got last night. As I took them off tonight, I realized I had the lenses in the wrong eye. I’d spent my entire day squinting and annoyed because I was looking through the wrong lens.

It’s funny because when I think back over some of the most trying times in my life, my initial reaction is to have a meltdown. In the midst of the storm I immediately see things through the lens of frustration, anger, and confusion. It’s immediately doom-and-gloom, worse case scenario, ‘Why me, Lord?’ time. It’s not until the chaos becomes calm that I can see things for what they are – an opportunity to tell people how I got over to the other side – share my testimony.

I know in some cases, my skewed vision is a symptom of my anxiety. But in lots of cases, it’s a symptom of my lack of faith. Remember that I’ve mentioned that my Christian journey has been less than perfect? Well part of that imperfection has been due to me forgetting that God sees all things, knows all things, and has a plan for my life that’s greater than anything I could ever imagine. In the midst of the trials I’ve let exhaustion and outside influences (similar to all of those allergens) get under my skin and into my head – and I end up seeing things out of my right eye (it’s the worst) instead of my left (it’s actually not too bad).

You see, it’s simple. I could’ve prevented a day of blurry vision and a headache if I had taken the time to double-check which lens was which. Maybe it’s time for me to take a step back and check what lens I’m looking at life’s storms through. I’m guessing I might save myself some tears and headaches.

Until next time…

Reflections on 36

In a little over an hour I’ll turn 37 years old. It feels weird coming out of my mouth because I don’t necessarily know that I had any idea of what I’d ‘be like’ when I was 37 and I’m pretty sure I’m only turning 25. What I do know is that 36 was a doozy and as I always do as I finish up another year around the sun, I’ve been reflecting on this year.

The one thing that’s stuck with me is that authenticity is what keeps me sane. Being who I am, speaking my truth, being honest about my less than perfect Christian journey, and being blatantly transparent about my mental illness has been the most freeing aspect of my life.

Here’s the deal – I’ve spent most of my adulthood being what I thought I should be. Having the career ambition I thought I should have, serving where I thought I should, saying what I thought I should, even feeling the way others thought I should. Do you know how exhausting that is? I have ‘Shoulded’ myself in to a worrisome existence.

In September, God gave me a good lesson on should. The job security I thought I had vanished overnight. That created a snowball effect of hurt, frustration, anger, and confusion that was enough to send me into a bawling tizzy in my garage. All of that made me confront my greatest fears: change and the unknown. I had to completely rely on my faith to get up every day and do what I was tasked to do without cursing people out left and right (that was hard y’all because I’m a curser. I’m not proud of it – it just happens when I get really upset, or tired, or cranky; or…).

And here I am, almost 3.5 months later and in the words of my husband, I have a glow (not that kind). It’s not from some deep contemplative work I’ve been doing either! It’s just simply from being me. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s recognizing when I’ve really screwed up and apologizing and standing strong when people try to run over me. It’s from sleeping in when I want to and cooking dinner from my family. It’s from reminding myself constantly not to take myself too seriously. It’s from realizing that climbing the ladder and breaking the glass ceiling just isn’t my thing. It’s from spending time talking to God, not because I want something but because I just need to say thank you!

Now don’t get it twisted. I have not arrived. I still have my moments where I have to check my faith. I still have my ‘what if, what should’ moments – because I’m human. But if this is what 37 is going to be like, I’ll take it.

Until next time…