Today was rough. I’m not even gonna say that life is great.
Life has been tough.
The past couple of days I have had a couple of realizations.
And the weight of those realizations was crushing.
In school today we had the chance to talk about said realizations. About the things that make us feel alive. About the things that I haven’t necessarily been doing.
I have dreams. I have passions and desires to do things that I love doing.
But to be honest. I’ve just barely been surviving.
We went through a whole conversation about past events that could have led me here to this place. This place where I doubt everything I do. This place where I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Where I can’t remember the last time I wrote a song. To this place where I feel like all I’m doing is what is asked of me, instead of what I want.
Once we had finished this conversation, it was as if my chest was ripped open and my heart was exposed. And I laid on the sanctuary floor with my chest open crying out to my God. Crying out for help and crying out for some explanation as to why I was crying so uncontrollably.
I couldn’t breathe. I was trying to worship but all I could do was curl up into a ball and lay there, right in front of where I stand on occasion and lead worship. I had tried to sing through the tears, but it made it worse and I began hyperventilating.
Completely alone on the floor, I reached out my hands for something. I reached out for hope maybe. Or maybe something that felt like more. Maybe something that was similar to joy. Something I have been lacking for a while.
Natalie told me to text if I wasn’t okay. And I desperately wanted to. But I also desperately wanted to be okay. I desperately wanted to seem as though I was strong. Because I am, and I should always be, right?
Today was a relatively good day too. I got to see the dog I took back to the shelter with his new owner. I got to hangout with good friends and eat amazing Mexican food and watch trashy television.
Then I walked into class and it seemed like the flood gates were opened and I couldn’t stop.
I feel okay now. I feel very drained, but overall okay.
I have carried around this expectation of myself. That I need to be exactly who I was. I need to have the same consistency with writing songs that I did in high school.
But a wonderful friend so graciously told me today that I don’t need to. I can let my focus slip to other things that matter to me. I can paint and take pictures. I can draw and make bracelets. I can write on my blog and I can write in my journal. I can do whatever I want. Because whatever it is, I am creating.
I am a creative.
I love to write, and sing, and be.
I care about people and love crafting relationships out of thin air.
I love creating things that mean the world to me.
I love learning new things.
So as I sit here internally processing, and then externally processing to you all.
I have the realization that it honestly doesn’t matter what I do. If I do it with love.
So music doesn’t have to be the end all be all.
Creating does. Being in relationship does.
As long as I am doing what God created me to do, then I am doing what I want to do.
As I have this revelation, a quote from my favorite band comes to mind:
“I have come to the realization that life is more than what I have accomplished and life is more than the realization that we have accomplished nothing at all…”