August? Really? 2023 is moving right along, and we all know that the fall semester moves like an ever-accelerating freight train. My boys and I have had the best free-range summer ever, and we are mourning that it is coming to an end. I felt it this morning. I woke up and knew that my summer journey had ended, and that today is the new season for routines, planning, mindset shifts, and adulting. Summer felt like a smorgasbord of fun, joy, and release even in the midst of challenge, grief, and confusion. At 50, I know to receive all of it, feel all of it, that this is the brutal beauty of life.
Wellness has been my word. And I have jumped in with both feet. I feel better right now that I have in years and years and years. And that has been my goal: to feel good, to feel whole. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I have been on a journey to find my truest self again in all of these areas. I allowed years of beautiful babies and rigorous homeschooling and insistent Christian messaging and chronic low-level isolation to form me in ways that I am still processing and working through. I am both in a season of deep grief and deep joy. Shauna Niequist once talked about in her book Present Over Perfect how she found herself operating as a “good soldier” and not as daughter with God. This year has been for me shedding the soldier and allowing myself the tender vulnerability of being daughter. I am not performing orders well or living in rank or following the disciplines of a regiment. I have been on a journey of receiving spiritual and mental rest while feeling more emotionally and physically engaged. I have lived for so many years in the land of my mind, overtaxing it, hyper-vigilant, overloaded. I was a brain, somehow not seeing or experiencing that a mind is attached to a body. Wildly unbalanced.
This has been a year of being in my body. I didn’t think I liked that. I didn’t think I liked getting my heartbeat raised. I didn’t think I liked dripping with sweat and being hot. I didn’t think I liked muscle fatigue or exertion. I had told myself a story for 50 years that comfort was what I needed and comfort was safe. I told myself that “this is just who I am and the way I am wired” and that “everyone is different and I am just a homebody who needs a blanket, retreat, and escape through books and shows”. We tell ourselves a million self-limiting beliefs. We are only this and not that. This is part of my grief: I have realized that I am so much more.
My mind has needed a rest. I can barely read. I plan at a minimal level. I haven’t had a lot of words or things to say. This is the first day in months that I feel like I can put words to my journey. I have simply needed to be in my body, sleeping (barely! perimenopause has taken all my sleep the past month!), eating simple whole foods, playing pickleball, stretching, puttering, repeat. I run errands. Fold clothes. Tidy here and there. I don’t think too deeply or strain to find the reasons or meaning behind every bush. I am being at mental rest, and trusting God for all the rest.
He is so kind to me. I have never felt as loved and accepted as I have this year. I feel delighted in and seen and known. I am not performing beautifully. I am allowing myself to be messy and undone and not tidying up myself quickly. I feel like a toddler half the time instead of an overachieving, self-sufficient adult. I am allowing myself to be loved in my frustrations, sadness, and anger. I am detaching in healthy ways from unhealthy situations. I am doing it all poorly and also well. And it’s all okay, because I am so loved and carried by Him. I feel like a child who needs a Dad, and He keeps showing up for me. I ignore him and pitch internal fits, and He pursues me and hugs me. He is not impatient with me like I am with myself. I am learning the *unforced* rhythms of grace.
Wellness is happening. True wellness isn’t a tidy linear plan with all the neat boxes checked. It’s circular and messy and dark and then progress and clarity and light. It’s saying yes to all of it. It’s moving through things, not trying to outwit the process by ignoring the hard, the questions, and the challenges. I am so grateful for a life right now that I couldn’t see coming one year ago. I would have laughed if you had told me where I would be physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually a year later. God writes the most thrilling stories that will surprise and delight us, and we keep walking them out by faith. I have lived way outside my comfort zone both physically and socially, challenging myself to risk. There have been setbacks and victories, but the journey of it all has been the most fulfilling ride. I am no longer defining myself or others as this or that, but allowing for growth and change and surprise. It’s so important to give ourselves and our people the freedom to reinvent themselves and cheer them on in their journey without judgment or frustration. My friend Susan has told me a few times, “your pickleball journey is my favorite thing on the internet”, and when she says that, I get teary and smile so big. Having people cheer you on is gracious love that sees you and calls out your best potential.
I have so much more to say. So much is filling out for me right now. It’s been simmering for months, and when I woke up today, I immediately thought, “I HAVE WORDS!” Midlife memoirs are one of my favorite genres, and I feel like I am living out a version of those these days. I hope that when I share mine, you find some bit of challenge or encouragement that sets you free on yours.
Much love and I am certainly cheering you on,
Aimee
So good to hear from you again, I always resonate with your posts, and look forward to more as the words come:-)
🥲🥲🥲 Yes and amen! “I don’t think too deeply or strain to find the reasons & meaning behind every bush” made me tear up!!! Perfectly expressed my lived experience this year as well..& oh! The freedom & joy!!!!!💖👏🏻🙌🏻 Thank you for these words!