Gaining Perspective Doesn't Mean a Painless Life

Photo by Nikolas Noonan on Unsplash

Every now and then, after days of pondering I will have a new perspective shine a light on my thinking, a glorious A-Ha! moment. Gaining perspective, as I call it, feels wonderful, illuminates my struggles, and shows where the true beauty of whatever I am going through or struggling with lies. I think, however, sometimes I expect once I have gained perspective, or been enlightened, or woke up, the lessons will stay forever. But the world is dizzying and ever-present and always works to lull us back into an easy sleep. Being asleep is easy, but it is deceptive. Being asleep means accepting the status quo, following the lessons of anger and selfishness the world boldly suggests, and viewing everything through the tunnel vision someone else has planned out for you.

It is hard to stay woke, folks.

One of the problems I am struggling with though, is as I struggle to stay woke, I become so disenchanted, so disillusioned, when a struggle comes my way. 

"But, but..." I tend to sputter in disappointment. And oh! How disappointing the world can be. I created this blog to be  teacher and mentor, but have been quiet lately, because what I thought I would be doing: giving advice, and leading people spiritually, isn't who I am meant to be at all. I am not the woman who stands up with a clear path and says follow me. I don't even TRUST those people. I flounder. I fall. I cry bitter, disappointed tears into my pillow. I let people down. I get petty. I want what I want when I want it, and yet don't have the persuasive powers to get it. Who am I to lead? But slowly it dawned on me, leadership isn't always a "do this!" endeavor. Face it, only the weak like those kind of leaders. Sometimes,  we lead from the back of the room, quietly sharing our perspective. The truth is, I don't care so much if people follow my path. I care that they find their own path. I care that they ask themselves the difficult questions, and are able to be open, yet kindly, honest with themselves. And I care they make a life they are proud of, which fill their soul with a warm joy at the end.

I struggle with candor. Now, I am not going to lie and say I am always honest. I am learning, learning the value of a lie. But I tend to be open and honest as much as I can (except when I am nervously sputtering crap to throw IRL people off track), and you know what-it hurts people. It gets me in trouble. I know it is just childish naivete which thinks I should be admired for honesty, but I still think so. I have watched as people laid verbal traps for me, my gut screaming to shut up, but my head wanting to be open and honest falling in, anyway. I have watched the mirth spread across people's face as they put out the bait, knowing the idea of injustice towards them would get me stirred up and vocal, and then watched as they used it against me. I don't hate them. They seem so asleep.  Not to say I am not. I fall asleep with the rhythm of a magazine article, a misplaced pep talk. I am no better than them. 

My candor has hurt my husband. He is more from the camp of little white lies to avoid hurting people, and I am of the belief that if I can't be known for who I am, what is the whole point? We stand at this impasse, I longing for self-expression, and he whitewashing pain until it becomes unbearable and he explodes. Maybe we are both wrong. Maybe I should practice washing my words first and he should practice saying what he really thinks more. A well-constructed argument is better than an unhappy life.

And I have to remind myself that as long as I am breathing, I am going to mess up. I am going to say the wrong thing, or fail to act because I am overthinking, and someone will be hurt. I am going to be honest when I should have been wisely quiet. I am never going to attain the perfection I expect of myself. 

Gaining perspective doesn't mean a painless life. Asking God to guide your footsteps and lead you where you are intended, doesn't mean the valley of the shadow doesn't suck ass. Sorry. that isn't very ladylike. The thing is, my identity and self-worth is tied up in my career, and I don't like where I am. I think I am in a position where I need someone who is willing to help me and give me a hand to move on to a better fit, and I can't find that person. This causes me a lot of pain because I am extremely work-oriented. Having babies can distract from the disappointment and pain, but three kids is really my limit at one time. And I am 46.

 My life isn't painless. I am closing my online business and closing the door on all the unexpected dreams which arose from it. Reba McEntire songs are running through my head currently and unfortunately. 

So as I work to stay awake, to see life through the correct lens, I find myself staring at my mistakes, mouth gaping in horror.  The words I need to express to understand the problem are hurtful to others. And I don't know how to fix that without losing myself.