wholehearted

I'm sitting here thinking about my year. This one. That's almost over. 

And how I set out to be wholehearted.

Yet I find myself at the end of 2015 feeling heavy and sad and dark-cloud-ish, with a heart that's more broken than whole. 

And it makes me feel like I failed big time.

I've already written another post (that I'll share soon, I promise) about the ways I can tell I grew in wholeheartedness. So I know—cognitively—that I can't write it all off as a failure. And yet...

I haven't been able to shake that feeling. 

Ugh.

So I dug back and re-read what I wrote at the start of the year about what I wanted to get out of my One Word 365 journey. 

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"I'm determining to live more wholeheartedly. To be all-in. To be fully present. I'm committing to give myself permission (and a nudge) to be truly myself. To stick to my guns. To live, write, and speak with integrity (in the fullest sense of the word — with wholeness and completeness in all parts of me).

I'm purposing to show up this year, in every way.

In each situation, in each decision, and with every single person, I want to show up wholeheartedly. Even when that means facing my fears. Or candidly sharing the vulnerabilities of my heart. Or taking a huge risk. Even when that means flying solo. Or saying no. Or standing my ground when I want to run away." 

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My eyes filled with tears. (Because, me.)

I hadn't read that since January. I'd forgotten how I'd first unpacked the word and everything I wanted to squeeze out of it.

And sitting here now, I can see—in countless ways—how I lived those things out. Certainly not perfectly or always or in any gold-star-deserving ways. But I did.

I'm thankful for those in my life who called out the times they saw I was leaning into wholeheartedness—as well as called me out in the times I needed to be leaning into it. Almost daily, my decisions, words, and actions were influenced by this one word, this choice I made twelve months ago. 

I showed up for my own life this year. 

I lived and loved with my whole heart.

So despite the brokenness my heart feels as 2015 comes to a close, I know I am a stronger, healthier, braver, more loving, and more true woman than I was when it began. 

And that is the opposite of failure. 

:: :: ::
 

I'd love to hear about your One Word 365 journey this year.
Feel free to share in the comments or include a link to your own blog post.

Why I Write

Months ago I signed up for a creative nonfiction course that began this week. At the time (and I guess even still, though now laced with more anxiety), I thought it might help me find my long-lost muse, or my MIA mojo, or just some good ol' inspiration to start writing again. But walking in the door of that community education classroom Monday evening was absolutely terrifying. 

:: CUE THE NERVOUS SWEATS ::

It was then that I discovered that it's a very small class. You guys. You realize what that means, don't you? It means I can't hide in the corner, keep my mouth shut, and write to-do lists during "free write" time because I can't find any real words. 

Shit. 

It's weird. I miss my voice, and yet I think I'm terrified of actually finding it.

While I sit here procrastinating on homework and berating myself for not following a daily writing prompt, I figured I'd share a few words I did pen in class.

After reading a sampling of authors' "Why I Write" essays, we were asked to write our own. In typical me fashion, mine is definitely not long enough to constitute an essay, but it does sum up the core essence of why I write. 

“I write to give even just one other person the matchless gift of going second.

By being vulnerable with my own story, I hope to make others feel safe, courageous, and empowered to give voice to their own stories. All of us at times just need to hear someone else say the words we haven’t yet been able to find to capture our experiences, our heartaches, our most deep-seated fears. And hearing them draws from within us a “me too” as our hearts open the vault of letters and words and sentences that had been locked away inside.

I write to stir that kind of “me too”...

I use my words so that others more freely and bravely use theirs. ”

 

Will you tell me your reason? 
Why do you write?

use your words

"Come on... Use your words."

I loved/hated that he was turning my own phrase back on me.

I'm a words girl. I value their weight, their gravity, their depth. I love how words can be beautifully strung together in a way that moves my soul. 

I'm a slow writer. Painfully slow. The words don't come easily for me. I have to mine for them, laboring over each syllable.

I want my voice to be true, my words sincere. So I try not to rush the process. I take my time, often only discovering what I truly think or feel as I'm writing it out. This "free therapy" is neither quick nor painless, but it's (usually) oh-so-worth-it.

Backspace is my closest friend. I never get it right the first time. Ever. I edit, chop, change, add, remove, abandon, start over... I rarely land where I imagined I would when I began.

Write.
Delete.
Repeat.

Using my words to talk? Now, that's a whole other story.

I've gotta be honest: I hate that talking lacks the luxury of time and backspace. (Maybe this is part of the reason I'm not a phone person. Hmm...)

When I feel uncomfortable, or want to say something important or meaningful, or attempt to share something vulnerable, I can never find words — the right words — quickly enough. I pause at great length. I hesitate. I sit silently. I get awkward. Really awkward. 

My mind trips over itself, stumbling around my internal dictionary, trying and failing to find the best words to say what I mean.

All the while, growing increasingly embarrassed and annoyed with myself, imagining that whoever I'm with is surely losing patience as I try to lasso my escaping thoughts.

"Come on... Use your words."

It jarred me back to reality, to the long pause I couldn't figure out how to break. Cheeks flushed with awkwardness and frustration, I finally just made a ridiculous face and shrugged. I think I said, "I don't know just yet..." or something else equally flat-lining...

I want to get better at using my words — written or spoken. I want the fuzzy brain fog to lift and for clarity to return. I want to be more aware of my truest thoughts, and less afraid of my own voice. I want to speak and write with honesty, sincerity, and heart. 

I want to be brave enough to always use my words.

on becoming brave

How different would things be if I approached each situation, each person, with bravery?

That's the question that scratched away at my heart and made me choose brave as my OneWord365. I really wrestled with committing to a word like that, for—well—lots of reasons.

At least for me, brave is a big, scary, monstrous word. I have never felt brave. Ever. It's not a word I would ever use to describe myself. I've done brave things at times, sure. I've taken some risks. I've made some choices others have deemed courageous. But deep down, I would never categorize myself as a brave person.

But I want to.

I want to be someone who's life is marked by bravery.

Don't hear me wrong... I don't want to be known for living an adventurous life. I'm not trying to be edgy, or reckless, or thrill-seeking.

I don't want to do brave things. I want to be brave.

And, I'm discovering, there's a big difference.

It's more about the posture of my heart than about my actions. It's about changing my internal dialogue—the words I say to myself, about myself. It's a willingness to lean into who I really am... and live it out wholeheartedly.

Six full months into the year, I paused to take stock. And I have to admit—I'm a little surprised by all the ways I've seen bravery come to bear in my life so far this year. It's probably not been in ways that others might expect (or that they'd even call brave), but it's usually the smallest steps of bravery which are the most difficult. For me, anyway.

I've opened my heart to possibilities. I've let myself enjoy the present without knowing what the future holds. I've let my guard down. I've let others in. I've leaned into relationships. I've used my words more. I've embraced hard truths. I've taken steps towards healthier boundaries. I've put myself first in areas I'd always put myself last. I've started going to church again. I've stuck my neck out work-wise. I've resumed regular writing commitments. I've made big financial decisions. I've intentionally dug into enjoying my now-life. I've faced a huge loss and didn't fall apart like I once thought I would.

I don't expect to feel like I've crossed some huge finish line in December, having arrived-at-last at being brave. But I do sense that I am already becoming brave. And that is what I want to feel every day for the rest of my life.

The process of becoming holds more value than the being, and I don't want to lose the wonder and vulnerability of the journey. 

So I take a deep breath, and I close my eyes, and I ask for an extra dose of courage for everyone and everything I will face.

And I choose to become braver today than I was yesterday...

:: :: ::

I'd love to hear about your OneWord365 journey at this halfway point.If you blog about it, please share the link. Otherwise, would you share a few thoughts in the comments? 

Originally posted on Velvet Ashes >

enough for now

He asked if I could explain my swirling thoughts.

"I'm waiting to find the words... and the courage to say them."

And then I sat in silence a good long while. He didn't seem to mind. His shared silence gave me a dose of bravery. I took a deep breath, and shook my head, and words clumsily stumbled out of my mouth. I rambled for a few minutes, covering my face at times, wiping away tears at others. My stammerings weren't eloquent or even complete sentences, but he said they made sense.

"I'm really scared actually."

Just saying those words out loud made me, somehow, feel a tiny bit less afraid. Maybe because what's named can no longer lurk in the shadows, like a coat rack impersonating a monster. 

"I don't know what to do with all of this..."

His words, full of grace and patience and wisdom: "Maybe you don't have to do anything with it all just yet. Maybe all that's needed is to name what you're feeling, and just let yourself feel those things. Maybe simply acknowledging it, like you just did, is enough for now. "

Maybe it is.

Maybe it is.