Living in the Gray

Ten weeks ago I was living in the now. Today I'm living in the gray. Well "now" is "gray," so maybe it's all the same.

I grew up seeing the world in black and white. Maybe all kids do, but I think my robust church-going and Bible-reading youth especially instilled in me a comfortable association with rules and the "right and wrong" ways to live. My Type A, perfectionistic personality also contributed to my embracing a life lived inside my own carefully constructed box.

I realized this week that recently I've stepped out of that box, discarded some of my longstanding rules, and said good-bye to the certainty and safety of a black-and-white existence. This has nothing to do with my moral code and little to do with my faith. Instead, it's about how I think about life today and in the future.

Perhaps this is another part of growing up. As a youth, you have this vision of what your life is going to look like, where you'll be in 10 years, what job you'll hold, when you'll get married, at what age you'll have kids, and so forth. But then inevitably you realize those dreams and all of that idealism and your picture-perfect perspective is not real life. And that safe box of predictability and contentment cracks...or shatters.

I think this happens to all of us as we gain life experience and human wisdom. But for me, this box-shattering and black-and-white blending is about accepting that I do not know what the future holds, and coming to terms with the discomfort that creates within me. Some days I'm content with not knowing, not having a plan. Some days I'm so uncomfortable with the absence of certainty that I either obsess or disengage—neither of which are constructive.

I continue to realize how far my people pleasing nature reaches. Not until I allow myself to be influenced by others' opinions or questions do I begin to think that I should feel a particular way, or that I should be charting a a specific course of action. Even if I feel a peace in the process, I am easily swayed by your voice.

And that enrages me about myself.

Because your voice will always be there. But this is my journey, not yours. Your box may be intact, but don't try to fit me within your lines, please. You may have a lot of unanswered questions, appropriate concerns, and well-meaning opinions, but please keep this in mind: I, and I alone, have to answer for my own happiness. I have to chart my own course. To you, it might be simple—it might be black and white.

But me? I'm living in the gray. And I'm OK.

The 18th Mile

I feel like I'm running a marathon. And I'm (slowly) passing the 18th mile marker.

I used to roll my eyes when people would talk about "trials and tribulations" (usually in religious circles), as if life were so difficult and unbearable. I would think, "Buck up! It's really not that bad. Get over it. Life is grand! Be positive...blah, blah blah." Clearly I had never faced a real trial of any kind.

I've always been generally aware of how good my life has been, of how easy a road I've traveled through my 28 years. I used to think that I was due for a circumstance or situation to knock me off of my pedestal where I was living high and happy above the masses, with no real cares or concerns or hardships. But I thought that scenario would be something of a physical nature—like cancer or a major car accident (my mind is so optimistic, no?).

Well recently my life took a turn, and I fell flat on my face at the bottom of the damn pedestal. I'm happy to say that my cardiovascular and respiratory systems are still intact, although my nervous system has taken quite a beating... 

However, as much as life is hard, life is also very good. Which is why I feel like I'm running a marathon.

The past 3 months have felt like a 26.2-mile trekk to a yet-unseen finish line. I've enjoyed some exteme highs—moments when the endorphins are coursing through my veins, my breathing is steady, I'm mentally in the zone, my body is buzzing with adrenaline, and I feel as if I could run forever. And then there have been some pretty awful lows—times when I'm not sure I can take another step, when every muscle in my body is cramping and my IT band is throbbing, when I feel nauseous and defeated and wonder why the hell I ever started running.

But that's when the endurance kicks in. That's when I muster up the little strength I have left, tap into the encouragement from those slogging beside me and the energy of those cheering from the sidelines, and ultimately, seek the source of divine strength to keep...on...running.

So. I think I'm at mile 18. I'm getting quite tired. And I'm realizing there's a good chunk of this race left to go, which makes me feel even more exhausted mentally. But I'm over halfway there...in fact, I'm almost three-quarters of the way to the finish line. I'm just not sure what's waiting for me on the other side...

I'll let you know once I get there.