Somedays, I approach these posts knowing exactly what to say and how to say it.
Other days, like today. I have a handful of topics I could spill about on these posts that I am worried are more journal entries than anything else. But someone came up to me about a week ago —(*starts singing* about a week ago…week ago) and she told me that she was thankful for these posts. Told me to keep going because I was doing good work.
I’m doing good work. I’m doing good work. I’m doing good work.
This is what I have to remind myself after ten hours of sorting through clothes and nannying. I find myself having to choke back tears of doing what I need to do to get back– but who I am to feel privileged in this? I really really try not to compare my story to others —BUT– so many people are out there hustling just to provide for their families, just to make ends meet and I’m complaining because I have to work with a rad couple and take a little girl to ballet class. But I can’t lie and say I don’t feel trapped- I don’t feel like I am hanging on the edge of my purpose, one foot doing the dang thing and the other foot just trying to make sure I can pay rent and a car not.
I never want that to be my response to someone who asks me how am I doing, I don’t want to say busy, or tired or use “just livin the dream”when all that really means is actually, I’m LIVING VERY VERY FAR FROM THE DREAM– I’M JUST TRYING TO GET A VACATION SPOT THERE!
We hustle fast and we hustle with every bit of us. We run fast and drive ourselves into the ground.
I have a hard time believing that God can actually provide, that God’s “got this” without my hustle. I have a hard time believing that he just wants me to sit back and let him do his thing without me. it’s silly, maybe but sometimes I really struggle with finding his tangible provision as something completely unrelated to my actions. But my hustle has nothing to do with his provision who knows if my “hustle” produces anything but pure exhaustion and I’m just under the impression that I’m actually doing something.
My roommate asked me last night, if I knew when I need to say no to things and when i need to say yes.
The answer is no, absolutely not. I have no idea how to do this AT ALL until I crash and have nothing to give and then I have to take back all my yes that I just threw out like freaking candy to anyone who asked. I say yes and somehow everything falls into place around the same time and I’m running around trying to “figure it out” like a crazy person. I am trying really trying to learn “no” without feeling like I owed someone something or feel so bad like really really bad because I couldn’t do it. I carry “no” like burdens. My mind associates yes with strength and no with, oh you can’t handle it? Lies, all lies of course. So as I transition into this next season of life, coming from the middle of the tornado kind of season, I’m am trying to re-learn the art of no, the acceptance of no so please feel free to keep me accountable on that! (I might regret this later and come back and delete it—but for now I mean it).
I feel like this post is a crock pot post.
I am saying lots of different, random things but I hope at least they come together somehow and taste good.
Yesterday, at the end of the event Elizabeth passed out some of her first bracelets that she made. Each bracelet says something different and before receiving them she told us that she believes strongly whatever phrase you get is what you’re supposed to have. So everyone starts getting their bracelets, some of them say “be strong”, “courageous” , or “freedom”, you know those words where you constantly reflect on and attempt to understand where their place is for your present moment. I get my bracelet and it says, “ h a v e f u n”.
h a v e f u n.
We’re all walking around sharing our bracelet words and I read mine with a slightly bitter and disappointed voice and everyone else’s reaction is more like “Yeah…that’s a good one for you!” or “Yup! That’s accurate, you need that!” WOAH WOAH WOAH in my head i’m thinking what?! I AM LOADS OF “FUN” –I do things….Fun things. And in the midst of my slightly irrational defensiveness my friend Lisa says, “maybe try thinking about it as having fun as Arielle. Not as Arielle the nanny or the worker, or the do-er just Arielle.”
I sat with that all day today. How does Arielle have fun? And I realized how hard it was to dissociate myself from what I do. Anyone else feel that way? Our defining factors of who we are are completely centered around what we do and that becomes our understanding of who we are.
How does Arielle have fun? Outside of coming home, letting the introvert in me hang out and catch up on things I didn’t accomplish that day. Fun to me is just being able to sit down and not have to move for more than 20minutes. But no no-how does Arielle have fun? I haven’t quite figured that out yet but I’m sure I’ll come back to this space and let you know when I do.
Who are you outside of what you do? How do you think you“have fun” ? What kind of exploring do you need to do in order to explore what that looks like? It’ll be a neat little journey trying to figure out what that entails. Let me know what you’ve discovered!
I hope the crock pot post didn’t freak ya’ll out too much.
Thanks for sticking around, I appreciate you.