Never too much and Always Enough
In life, we're constantly facing the unknown. Not everything is predictable. We walk into so many situations, blind, hoping good things will come out of it. Sometimes it's extremely hard to see the good, when we're constantly overwhelmed by the unexpected. At times I feel like I'm suffocating in new experiences. I try to take it all in, navigating each challenge with careful curiosity. No one really gives you a road map for your emotions. I feel like my 20's have been a giant roller coaster of highs and lows. At times I literally want to laugh and cry at the same time. I stand mute, as the voices in my head scream louder and louder. I'm always so quiet, afraid to speak out. I try to choose my words carefully, testing each one as it projects from my mouth. Adulthood comes with an authority that I've never experienced. I'm almost afraid of it.
As a kid, no one trusts anything you say. You're just a rookie. Suddenly, you graduate college and begin your first real job and people are looking to you for answers. You are constantly being asked questions and fear rocks through you like a lightning bolt. Each question strikes you harder than the last. You want to sound competent and deep down you do know the answer, but somehow you cannot produce the words. You open your mouth to speak and no sound comes through. You've spent your whole life being a "kid" with absolutely no power and suddenly you're an adult with real authority. Your words are not only a shield, but a weapon to yield in tough situations. You have all the right thoughts, yet no confidence to let them escape the sealed door that remains behind your lips.
This is true for so many situations. I feel like I've yet to truly own my authority. Theodore Roosevelt once gave the advice to "speak softly and carry a big stick". Well I certainly know how to speak softly, often barely producing a whisper at times of intense scrutiny. Problem is, I'll never "carry a big stick" or the confidence to truly say what I mean. I've always been a writer. I can pour thoughts to paper in seconds, yet I can't deliver a true message aloud if it conveys conflict.
As a child, I was always very soft-spoken. My dad was constantly yelling at me to "speak up". Anytime I thought I might have an answer wrong or that somehow my opinion conflicted with that of others, I quickly hushed my tones to a faint whisper, as if somehow that would make a difference. I didn't try to make myself heard. Instead, I'd escape to my room, my own oasis. I'd spend hours, alone, in my room crafting poems, songs, and timid thoughts into journals. I poured my heart and soul into my writings.
And what did I learn?
When our thoughts leave the vast space in our heads, brought with ink to a tree, we have nothing. Our words are out. What happens next isn't up to us. We've done our part. We've cast out our fears, anxieties, wishes, hopes, dreams, everything and given it away to a thin sheet that once resided in nature. Sometimes it's hard to say what we mean, what we truly mean. There's no easy way to go about it and, honestly, most of us don't even know what that is. What do we mean?
We sift through our mild thoughts in search of words that explain the emotions that have taken over and rock us, heart and soul, moving us to excitement or fill us with tears that pour out of our body like ocean waves. We have voids we're trying to fill, thoughts we're trying to express, things we're trying get over, hearts we're trying to heal, a life we're just trying to live.
We laugh. In excitement. In joy. In fun. In pain. In sorrow. We find little bits of life that bring out those type of giggles that erupt from our chests, almost unwelcome, in the most odd times. One second we're overwhelmed by life and the sorrows that plague us, and the next we're reminded of the true beauties of life that occur as the laughter, breaks free from our chests into our voice boxes, bursting out, bellowing in a contagious melody.
We cry. In pain. In suffering. In stress. In sorrow. In joy. In fear. We tell ourselves we're fine. We're going to make it. We push it down, willing it away. Suddenly the tears crawl forward, itchingly slow. Again, we repeat our mantra, we are fine. Finally, the dam breaks, and rain comes. We succumb to our fears and let the tears fall. Never apologize. Never fear them. Let them move you. Our tears are a sign to the world that we ARE human. That we have feelings, emotions, capabilities. We have passions and triumphs. We are beautifully made, emotional. And that's OKAY.
Sometimes I forget it, but it's ALWAYS okay.
We love. So deeply. So body-achingly good. We love long. We love hard. We love life. We love people. We push ourselves into uncomfortable situations, hoping for the best. We lift our feet off the ground, hoping we can fly, but we are not birds. We have no wings, no magic fairy dust, yet we still dream of floating on clouds. Soaring above all the pain, all the suffering, the heartache, the rough times, the miseries, the lost hope. We fly off, above and away from it all.
Life gives us everything we need to write our own stories.
Richard Siken once said,
"Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else."
How incredible is that statement?
We are everything we ever need. We are never too much. We are always enough. We will struggle. We will fall down. We will get it wrong sometimes. We will talk too much. We will be too quiet. We will be too still. We will move too much. There will never be perfection. There will never be a true beginning to life or a true ending. Our words impact people the day we say them and long after. Revel in each moment. Life is a mess. We will make drunken mistakes AND sober ones. We will say stupid things to the opposite sex that we immediately want to take back. We will get second chances. We will get no chances. Life has zero guarantees. All we have are the opportunities to make this mess a little messier, a little crazier, and exactly our own. The key is, to find the courage to take them.
As a kid, no one trusts anything you say. You're just a rookie. Suddenly, you graduate college and begin your first real job and people are looking to you for answers. You are constantly being asked questions and fear rocks through you like a lightning bolt. Each question strikes you harder than the last. You want to sound competent and deep down you do know the answer, but somehow you cannot produce the words. You open your mouth to speak and no sound comes through. You've spent your whole life being a "kid" with absolutely no power and suddenly you're an adult with real authority. Your words are not only a shield, but a weapon to yield in tough situations. You have all the right thoughts, yet no confidence to let them escape the sealed door that remains behind your lips.
This is true for so many situations. I feel like I've yet to truly own my authority. Theodore Roosevelt once gave the advice to "speak softly and carry a big stick". Well I certainly know how to speak softly, often barely producing a whisper at times of intense scrutiny. Problem is, I'll never "carry a big stick" or the confidence to truly say what I mean. I've always been a writer. I can pour thoughts to paper in seconds, yet I can't deliver a true message aloud if it conveys conflict.
As a child, I was always very soft-spoken. My dad was constantly yelling at me to "speak up". Anytime I thought I might have an answer wrong or that somehow my opinion conflicted with that of others, I quickly hushed my tones to a faint whisper, as if somehow that would make a difference. I didn't try to make myself heard. Instead, I'd escape to my room, my own oasis. I'd spend hours, alone, in my room crafting poems, songs, and timid thoughts into journals. I poured my heart and soul into my writings.
And what did I learn?
When our thoughts leave the vast space in our heads, brought with ink to a tree, we have nothing. Our words are out. What happens next isn't up to us. We've done our part. We've cast out our fears, anxieties, wishes, hopes, dreams, everything and given it away to a thin sheet that once resided in nature. Sometimes it's hard to say what we mean, what we truly mean. There's no easy way to go about it and, honestly, most of us don't even know what that is. What do we mean?
We sift through our mild thoughts in search of words that explain the emotions that have taken over and rock us, heart and soul, moving us to excitement or fill us with tears that pour out of our body like ocean waves. We have voids we're trying to fill, thoughts we're trying to express, things we're trying get over, hearts we're trying to heal, a life we're just trying to live.
We laugh. In excitement. In joy. In fun. In pain. In sorrow. We find little bits of life that bring out those type of giggles that erupt from our chests, almost unwelcome, in the most odd times. One second we're overwhelmed by life and the sorrows that plague us, and the next we're reminded of the true beauties of life that occur as the laughter, breaks free from our chests into our voice boxes, bursting out, bellowing in a contagious melody.
We cry. In pain. In suffering. In stress. In sorrow. In joy. In fear. We tell ourselves we're fine. We're going to make it. We push it down, willing it away. Suddenly the tears crawl forward, itchingly slow. Again, we repeat our mantra, we are fine. Finally, the dam breaks, and rain comes. We succumb to our fears and let the tears fall. Never apologize. Never fear them. Let them move you. Our tears are a sign to the world that we ARE human. That we have feelings, emotions, capabilities. We have passions and triumphs. We are beautifully made, emotional. And that's OKAY.
Sometimes I forget it, but it's ALWAYS okay.
We love. So deeply. So body-achingly good. We love long. We love hard. We love life. We love people. We push ourselves into uncomfortable situations, hoping for the best. We lift our feet off the ground, hoping we can fly, but we are not birds. We have no wings, no magic fairy dust, yet we still dream of floating on clouds. Soaring above all the pain, all the suffering, the heartache, the rough times, the miseries, the lost hope. We fly off, above and away from it all.
Life gives us everything we need to write our own stories.
Richard Siken once said,
"Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else."
How incredible is that statement?
We are everything we ever need. We are never too much. We are always enough. We will struggle. We will fall down. We will get it wrong sometimes. We will talk too much. We will be too quiet. We will be too still. We will move too much. There will never be perfection. There will never be a true beginning to life or a true ending. Our words impact people the day we say them and long after. Revel in each moment. Life is a mess. We will make drunken mistakes AND sober ones. We will say stupid things to the opposite sex that we immediately want to take back. We will get second chances. We will get no chances. Life has zero guarantees. All we have are the opportunities to make this mess a little messier, a little crazier, and exactly our own. The key is, to find the courage to take them.
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