Blogging is my solace from the storm. Actually, writing down the thoughts that swirl through my mind always brings some form of comfort. It gives me some form of stability, it’s grounding, and I can focus all my attention on one drifty flow rather than being caught up in the chaos around me.
Sometimes resisting takes more energy than allowing. We try so hard to keep it all bottled up, to hold all the hard things back, but it’s like a pressure cooker, and eventually it explodes. We might not mean for it to, we like to think we can control it. And we can, up to a point, and then, one way or another, all of the bottled up thoughts and feelings will explode, sometimes surprising us just as much (or even more) as those around us.
I’d like to be a patient person. Some say I am, but I’m not. Then again, those people also say I hold myself to too high of standards, it’s probably true. Perfectionism dies hard, and it’s hard to let go of the one thing that makes me feel like my life is under control.
I’m learning to release my grip, slowly and surely. I’ve clung to the wrong things, and let go of things that I’ve needed. I’ve drifted away with my need to manage it all, to maintain some level of peace and composure, all the while becoming more and more restless inside. Writing helps. I can freely drift from one thought to another. Letting go, not fully holding on, but releasing control and going along with the flow of words that comes streaming out.
Here, it doesn’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be perfect. I can just let out whatever comes, and release it into the waves. They wash over me, but no longer claim me.
Will I ever find the place where I belong? I’m confident that someday, the answer is yes, but until then, I drift, not in the void, but in the fullness of grace, that steadily guides me to where I’m always meant to be.