Pressure

Most of my life has been spent under pressure. Whether it was false or real doesn’t really matter. As I have started to wake up, to life, possibility, reality, whatever you want to call it, I have begun looking at myself and my responses in different ways.

Rather than action being easily deemed good or bad, a statement of grace has found its way in and I find myself becoming less defensive, at least with the voices in my head. That, in turn, has led to me being able to look critically at myself, my emotions and my reactions as something to understand, rather than change immediately. If I start a step backwards from the place of judgment and criticism, and instead, accept that I am going to be all the things I hate at any given moment, accept it and seek to give myself the space and permission to be whatever I am, I am much less anxious.

And since nothing is ever complete without an example…

I happen to be pretty sensitive. What? Shocked? I know, it’s hard to believe… and truth be told, there are some things this sensitivity breeds that I like about myself. I’m attuned to people, their needs. If I were in their position, what would I want? A shoulder, a word of encouragement? Or maybe it’s just the presence. I love people and a good sense of sensitivity can be a great tool. On the flip side, it can bring some seriously high maintenance tendencies. I’m defensive, I over react, I’m passive aggressive at times. I have high expectations that bite me in the ass every damn day. It can get ugly quickly.

So the best place to see that happen, work. I have about 25 women and 8 men that work in my office. It’s a vortex of cattiness and cliques. Since cliques and I have never gotten along, I find myself on the outside of the more than I would like to admit. It brings the childishness in me to a head more often than not. Good lord, do we ever leave high school? Apparently not. And rather than rise above, I dive right in with the best of them.

The good news is, I can joke about it. I don’t like it, but I also am starting to see myself as cohesive self, good bad, yin and yang BS. I’m doing the best I can. When I find myself struggling with making plans with people in front of others that have rejected me, I know it’s stupid and so ugly, but I also know it’s stupid enough to not get tripped up on. I do it, laugh at myself, feel stupid, and then move on. If someone points out something about me that has been an insecurity of mine, no matter what their intention is and I become defensive, instead of becoming defensive about being defensive, I appreciate where I have been and how the things I have been through have taught me to be defensive, relax knowing I will be immature and childish, probably forever, and let it go.

In a world where the pressure to be perfect, be it in looks, attitude, career or religion, embracing my imperfection has been some of the most freeing things I have experienced. If I stop caring about what whether or not people love me, knowing I will be fine either way, if I am imperfect with people, I can let go knowing I am fine either way. For most of my life that story has been change, mold, become what they want you to be so you don’t lose their love. Now, it is, either accept me, or not, but this is what I am. I’m ridiculous sometimes, over the top, and maybe I do need to be taken in small doses, but hey, I live life. I do like things on a ten. I like my music loud, my nights long and busy, my mornings late, my weekends jam packed with anything and everything I can get my hands on. I read ten books at a time, have 50 projects started and some never finished, I bite off way more than I can chew, and I never, ever give anything less than 100% to everything I do.
And for once, I’ve stopped making excuses, justifying, or explaining myself. I am what I am. What you see is what you get.

Even better? I’ve stopped expecting any less from others. They are mean, they are selfish sometimes. People are sensitive, defensive and manipulative for all the reasons I have been. I have a choice about whether or not I see myself as the catalyst. Sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not, oh well, but I’m still here, and so are they. I will love because there is no other choice, if I want to live in freedom. Loving myself and others in all the stupidity that we bring to the table. They may be mean and passive aggressive, but so am. I can always choose to laugh and let go, even if they do judge me.

And the cycle continues that I don’t always do that well. I get hurt all the time, then I have to remember the grace, give it to myself, see it from God, and then the grace I give others isn’t grace, it’s just acceptance of life. It’s just belief in the infinite good of God, the heart of life and the up and down that I fall into and out of every moment. Sometimes I think we make grace more than it is, in a sense that it is so desperate. I guess I see it as less desperate, but more intrinsic. Grace isn’t difficult to give out when you have accepted your own need for it, and then laughed at yourself.

I’m learning. We all are. I get it wrong so much. I can’t even count the stupid things I have done today, but I’ve stopped seeing a line in the sand between the stupid and “smart” things. Instead I see it all as life. That is grace. That is mercy. There is no scale, no balancing game, grace and life absorbs what we think are the successes and failures and just passes the time on. Here it is, then it’s gone. It stops holding imperfection against itself, and instead expects nothing less.

There are millions of really nice people out there. There are millions of really intense people. But I am the unique expression of some story God is telling, the good and bad. The anger, the joy, the fear, the courage, they are all a part of His plan, His goodness, His understanding and purpose in my creation. And that, of all things, takes the pressure off.