Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Letting go, waiting.

I originally shared part of this post on my personal facebook page, but as this season of quiet waiting that I appear to be on the verge of has the potential to affect what you see here, I wanted to copy it to this space as well. 

For a long time now, I’ve been doing too many things and most of them in a mediocre way, a few piss poorly. So I spent time last week letting go of many of my commitments, including some things I’ve been doing for so long they felt like a part of my identity.

Some of it was easy, they floated right out of my hands. 

Some of it hurt, my fingers didn’t want to open and release them.

It isn’t easy work, this whole being honest with yourself about your limitations and your true desires business.

Things have felt so muddy and unclear the last few years. I don’t even know how it started, I just know one day I woke up and I couldn’t see myself without squinting anymore. That should have hurt but instead I felt numb.

I hope by scaling back on my commitments that I have cleared a path, but it is possible I won’t know for some time yet exactly where I’m supposed to go or what I’m meant to do next.

So I’m waiting.

(Fully, and humbly, aware of just exactly how lucky I am that I have the option to do so.)

What a weird age my forties have been. I truly thought I’d feel like a grown up by now. Instead it seems like the first four years of this decade at least have been about teaching me that I still have much left to learn and figure out.

I need to recognize here that the difference for me between my forties and any other decade I've lived so far is that before when I felt this way I didn't take action in time. I struggled. I pushed. I fell.

Now, at forty-four in what I hope is mid-life, I feel like I simply MUST make a change. The call to LET GO of what no longer belongs to me is so strong that I cannot ignore it. I cannot resist taking the risk and being open to my own true future.

Not anymore.

Dropping this post here, as another mile marker in hopes that in the future when I'm reminded of it I’ll look back and ... I don’t know. Feel better? Have figured out more? Know my direction?