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Overcommitting, Underachieving, and the Journey Toward Peace

~ Michelle Johnson ~ Leave a comment

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I did it again.  I overcommitted myself.  It seems to happen every year in January and September.

Both months feel like fresh starts to me:  January because it’s a new year full of promise and potential, and September because it’s when the kids go back to school and the days get shorter, the weather starts to cool and I feel like I’m ready to settle back into myself, cozy and scheduled, leaving behind the frenzied activity of summer when we try to fit a year’s worth of outside time into three months.

And what ends up happening, almost without fail, is that I overcommit myself.  I plan projects, enroll in courses, make lists and goals and notes about what I’d like to do.  I start strong — structured days, pregnant with busy-ness, a flurry of beginning all the things.  But after a few weeks, almost without fail, I burn out. I cannot keep up with all to which I have committed, so everything gets only about 60% of me.  Projects are started but not finished, course homework lies on the kitchen island, only half completed, new nutrition plans fall by the wayside because I remember that I don’t really like cooking.

I am trying to do it differently this year. I am inviting in peace, and part of that invitation means allowing myself grace when I fall short of who (I think) I want to be, allowing myself to rest in the space I occupy right now instead of always pulling my life taut like a bow, preparing to launch myself into a better future, because, more often than not, the bow breaks and I crash to the ground further back than where I began.

But I did it again anyway.  I overcommitted myself this month.  It’s hard to resist all the twinkle and glow that bombards me in the weeks leading up to the new year.  Surely if I read this book/eat this food/make this craft/do this project/commit to this group, then I will be worthy/whole/loved/good enough.  But it never works.

But this time is different.  I caught myself in the same pattern: 2 Bible Studies, a 21-day commitment to prayer and fasting (more on that later), a writers’ group, ideas for a new (very) small business, working with a personal trainer, ordering more books from Amazon than I could possibly read in a year, planning a month-long eating plan to reset my system, spending too much time on social media reading about how I can be better in just 5 easy steps….you know the drill, right? So I took a step back and asked myself which of these things was bringing me peace and which were inviting in more stress and feelings of unworthiness.

So I am ever so gently putting aside those things that don’t align with my desire for peace  and giving my whole self  to things which matter most to me. Maybe I will come back to these things at a later date when they can better serve me, or maybe they will be permanently left behind, like spare parts that just took up space.

I am taking control and defining what I want my life to look like and pointing my compass in that direction.  I am reminding myself that there is no one on this earth to whom I need to prove myself.  I am pushing back and laying claim to my place in this world.  And in this place where I plant my flag, there will be peace.  

 

Currently reading:  Grace: A Novel by Natashia Deon

Currently listening to:  Magic Lessons with Elizabeth Gilbert

Currently loving:  Diffusing Christmas Spirit + Orange essential oils by Young Living.

World’s Okay-est Life (Or: Five Reasons I Quit Reading Articles With Numbers in the Title)

~ Michelle Johnson ~ 2 Comments

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I’ve spent the first weeks of the 2017 dwelling on my word for the year, peace.  I’ve been letting it settle into the crevices of my soul, I’ve thought about how I can bring it into existence in my world, about what I need to do to find shalom.  I’ve observed and made mental notes, recategorized my priorities, and tried to shut out the noise of the world.

And what I’ve discovered is that I don’t need to add anything, I need to let things go.  I need to make space in my life for peace to exist, because it’s quite simply been crowded out.  It has no room to breathe, to grow, to flourish.  It is cowering in a corner somewhere, waiting to be invited back in.

I grew up in the age of monthly magazines.  I loved them then and I still love them, just like I still read traditional books rather than on a tablet.  I love the feeling, the act of turning pages, being able to highlight, take notes,  dog-ear pages, tear them out and tuck them away for future reference.

When my children were young I subscribed to several parenting magazines, the kind that offered ideas on party planning, play dates, and crafts.  It was so exciting to get each new issue and plan out what activities I would do with them each month, but looking back I can see that there was a sense of not-enoughness in it.  A sense of failure if my life didn’t match the glossy pictures of perfect homes.

But it was only once a month, and there was only my family and a handful of friends to whom I could really compare myself, so reality and relationships usually won out over the manufactured perfection in the magazines.

Fast forward 15-20 years.  I am bombarded daily with what I should  be as a parent, a wife, a woman, a homemaker, a human.  My devices are filled with articles that promise these five (or nine, or twelve, or two) things will change my life (or marriage, or body, or soul).  If I only do this, eat this, take this, think this, be this, then surely I will be shiny and bright and all the pieces of my life will fall into place.

I’ve made lists of everything I should do each day to be sure that I am worthy the very best version of me that I can be.  I think at one point that list was up to 28 tasks, 28 things I must do every day to be sure I was not falling behind in winning at life. And I can guarantee you that most of those days I was frantically going trying to tick off boxes rather than living a full, authentic life.

A couple of weeks ago I started yet another book on how to not only transform my life, but to make my mornings miraculous.  I mean, who doesn’t want miracles in the morning?  The book used an acronym for six things you must do each day upon waking to make sure the rest of your day went the way of water to wine.

But wait, there’s more….

The author also instructs you on how to live a Level Ten Life.  I mean, who doesn’t want that?  Who doesn’t want six steps and ten levels to an ideal life?

Me.

I don’t want that.

I don’t want perfection.  I’ve tried to get there.  Not only is it impossible, it’s exhausting.  I don’t have the energy.  I can’t do all the things.

What if I’m content with my slow, quiet mornings and life that hovers closer to a 7 than a 10?  What if my shifting middle-aged body, imperfect marriage, cluttered closets, and unmanicured lawn are perfectly suited to my way of being?

What if I’m not striving for the best life, but the okay-est life?  What if that’s enough for me?

We live in an age of superlatives, always striving to be the -est at everything:  fittest, strongest, prettiest, smartest, kindest, funniest, youngest looking. Most creative, best home, best children, best marriage, best wardrobe, most well read. Volunteers the most, gets the most likes and comments, goes on the best vacations, finds the best deals, has the best life.

Well, I’m walking away from the game.  I’m making room for peace.  

I took a step in that direction about two weeks ago when I decided I would not click on any link that had a number in the title.  You know the ones, they promise five ways to transform your abs or seven foods that will clear your brain fog and cure migraines, or nine things happy couples do every day.

I started scrolling right past them, because I’m striving for peace not perfection.  I can’t take on any more expectations.  They’ve become too heavy, too burdensome. They weigh me down and keep me stuck.  I don’t need another list of tasks, I need shalom.  

If you’ve read this far and are waiting for the five reasons I hinted at in the title, this is the part where I break the news that I’m not giving them, because I’m not here to tell you what you should do, much less why you should do it.  I’m here to tell you to go and chase down your ideal, find your peaceful place, your shalom.

For me, I’m focusing on the having the World’s Okay-est Life.  Because quite frankly, that’s good enough for me.

Living a Shalom Life

~ Michelle Johnson ~ 12 Comments

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I thought long and hard about my word for this year, and I finally settled on the word peace.

I really thought I was going to use the word whole, which was the word Ali Edwards chose last year.  There is something intriguing about the word whole to me, and I will continue to think about how I can incorporate that into my life, but here’s the deal…..

The last several years have been challenging for me, and for us as a family.

We have faced more obstacles than most.  It has often felt like we’ve been swimming upstream, thrashing through the currents of our changing dynamics, trying to find our place in this messy thing we call life.  I spent several years jumping from crisis to crisis, trying to put out fires at the expense of my well-being.

And somewhere in all that I lost my way.

I’ve spent the last two years working tirelessly at getting back to good.  I’ve worked on myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I’ve prayed, I’ve talked, I’ve taken control of my health, I’ve written, I’ve cried, I’ve talked some more, and I’ve found better ways of being.

And as much as I like the idea of the word whole, to be honest it sounds like a lot of work, and right now I just don’t have it in me.

I need peace.  I need calm.  I need to not be chasing the next goal, the next great thing.  I need to not be striving to be a better me, I need to just be me.

The word peace started creeping into my consciousness a couple of months ago, when things were once again feeling hectic and out of control.  I rolled it around in my mind as the word I would choose, and found that it kept appearing in my life.  The most memorable time was at church several weeks ago.

We had a guest pastor and in part of her message she spoke about the Hebrew word Shalom. Most of us are familiar with this word as the Jewish greeting meaning peace, but she said that is only a small part of its meaning.  Here’s what she said:

“Shalom is our created, intended state of being in which we are well with ourself and well with others.”

This is a beautiful concept and I knew I wanted to know more, so I went home and did a quick internet search to see what I could find.  What I found was that the Hebrew root word for Shalom means wholeness.  The word itself conveys a feeling of contentment, completeness, wholeness, and well-being.

Wow.

So, after taking some time to think and pray, I landed on the word peace for this year, with the intent of studying the true meaning of Shalom to find out how God wants me to be, because I think maybe I’m whole just the way I am and I just need to find peace in that.

 

 

 

 

Stumbling Toward Myself

~ Michelle Johnson ~ 5 Comments

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It’s that time of year that’s full of promise and potential.  The chaos of Christmas is behind me and the new year looms on the horizon.  I spend much of my time in eager anticipation of all that will surely transform me when the calendar turns its page.

But here’s the thing–

It never does.

I never wake up a newer, shinier version of myself on January 1st.  (Truth be told, I’ve often woken up a worse version of myself after a night of celebrating, but that’s another story….)  I never rise from bed with thoughts and behaviors that are radically different than they were the day before.

There is no magic on January 1st.

But this final week of the year is a good time to reflect and reevaluate.  It’s a good time to set intentions, to let go and to grab on, to take stock, to count my blessings and cut my losses, to acknowledge the changes, both good and not so good, because I’m not the same person I was a few years ago, or even the same person I was 11 months and 29 days ago.

And the changes that happened weren’t delivered to me with glitter and fairy dust on the first day of the year.  The changes happened when I made intentional, often faltering steps toward a better version of me.  The changes happened when I allowed the mistakes I made to be lessons learned instead of definitive identifiers of who I am.  They happened when I sat alone with myself, looked around at all I had created and said, “Now what?”  And then I answered my own question.

The changes started with me.

And so it is with the new year upon me.  I am taking a look around at all the past twelve months have shown me and asking myself, “Now what?”.  I’m heading in the direction of the person I was created to be.  I don’t know for certain who that person is, but I do know that I will fall down on the journey to her.  Frequently.  But I’ll get back up, dust myself off, and take the next right step.

Every.single.time.

I’m stumbling toward myself, and owning every step.