I live my life teetering on the brink of being proud that I’m more emotionally put together than almost anyone I know and being a complete mess, stupefied that I still can’t figure life out. The last week or so the mess side of me must have eaten a few too many twinkies because I’ve stayed there a lot longer than normal.
Spent the weekend with my “accountability group” talking about our life stories and the road maps that led us to where we are now. I put “accountability group” in quotes because most of us in the group are uncomfortable with that title. It sounds too Joshua Harris or Elizabeth Elliot to be an acceptable title for us. We just eat dinner together once a week and drink wine while we talk about things we want to change about our life but don’t have the courage to do on our own.
I love it. Its real community, you know. Like just people living life side by side and letting each other into the raw realities of who we are. I love it, that is, until the day comes. Then I get annoyed. Why do we have to do this every week? Why do we have to cook, can’t we just get take out? I don’t have anything new to share…the same thing every week and nothing ever changes. All five of us feel the same way. But we all show up every week. One of us cooks and we all sit at the table laughing and telling stories about the week. Then one by one we get into each of us…some sharing more, some less…but we know each other’s weaknesses, the things we dwell on, the thought traps we get into. And I love it again.
This weekend, though, I delved into my past. What growing up was like for me, where my insecurities began, relationships made and lost, high school, college, London, China. I love talking about myself and remembering things, so I thought this would be a breeze. But it was strange as I took all my broken up memories, the pieces of myself that seemed to be so many different people rather than one person, and pushed a needle through them and strung them up together in a line. The pouring out of all those times and places, ebbing and flowing, rhythmically and in meter making up the whole of who I am has been swimming through my mind and haunting my dreams.
I spent at least the first half of my life believing we were all essentially the same and everything was black and white. I’m so thankful to discover the opposite, but confused by it nonetheless. We are individuals with different personalities, tastes and dreams. Life is organic. So I can’t make a combination of decisions and get a certain result. Not studying + early drug use + sexual promiscuity = suicidal overweight trailer trash. Physical exercise + purity + social involvement = gorgeous husband and stable family. Results vary as you input different variables, but they are consistent and predictable. But its starting to feel more like a slot machine and I put my two cents in, pulled the lever and I’m waiting while it spins and spins. The first one seemed to have stopped and I’m staring at it in wonder while I wait for what in the world the next two will uncover.
I know we are accountable for much of what we get out of this life. I still believe in absolute truth and that there is a purpose and reason for everything. I attribute much of the good things in my life to good choices I made and blame myself for many of the consequences I’ve had to experience. But life is looking more organic than I ever imagined. It feels so right to embrace that, and so freeing to know that I am not so in charge of my life. But I’m left wondering…what in the world is next for me?
