Raspberry Iced M

This week I have really tried to work on letting go of things I cannot control.

I have an amazing job and a work ethic that trumps most others’, a beautiful home, nice car, a different Stanley for every day of the week.

Combine those things with a never precedented desire for privacy, and on the outside I’m capable, rational, put together.

(I make a point these days not to share my inner most struggles with people, as I have found that most either use it as a bargaining chip to get something from me, or, alternatively, turn my personal chaos into a subject discussed at their regular coffee klatches. Either way, I’m not interested. My life is more valuable than what others have to say about it.)

So on paper, I’m reasonable.

In practice, I’m intuitive. There are definitely patterns.

And for someone who knows me well, this isn’t surprising. If you don’t know me well, I promise I am fine and I can be trusted with responsibilities.

**For the most part.

1. I need alone time after socializing, even if I enjoyed myself. I had fun. I laughed. And then my social battery ran out, and I now require solitude like it’s medically necessary.
2. I can be decisive about big things and paralyzed by small ones. Major life choices? Where to live, big purchases, legal matters, career decisions. Calm. Rational. Thoughtful. Choosing a font? I need 20 minutes and a lot of reassurance.
3. I overprepare for low-stakes interactions. I walk into casual conversation with back up plans and emotional snacks. On my way to a meeting at church last week, I rehearsed an “about me” monologue so hard that I got a headache. And we didn’t even have to speak in the meeting. Facepalm.
4. I notice everything and then pretend I didn’t. Tone shifts. Facial expressions. The vibe. And I’ll turn it inward and never mention it.
5. I love plans – as long as they remain hypothetical. The idea of making a plan, making a list, or setting a goal brings me joy. Executing them requires negotiation with my nervous system. And a lot of second-guessing and prayer.
6. I take responsibility instinctively, even when it is not mine. If something feels off, I briefly assume it is my fault. It’s reflex, not logic. And I’m working on it.
7. I am simultaneously deeply self-aware and wildly confused. I understand my patterns. But I don’t always know what to do with that information in real time.
8. I crave calm but mentally rehearse catastrophe. While I am actively seeking peace, I run a continuous background scan for danger. Basically, it’s my exhausting way of multitasking.
9. I care very deeply but express it quietly. I do not typically make grand gestures. But I remember things and I show up. Packing lunches for my family for work/school. Anonymous donations to those less fortunate than I am. Memorizing how you like your coffee. Finding out what your favorite dessert is and tracking down the recipe. Yet not making any of those things a whole production.
10. I am confident and insecure in alternating waves. Sometimes within the same hour. Sometimes even about the same topic. I am learning to reassure myself, by myself. And I anchor my identity based on how much Jesus loves me, instead of looking at the perceptions of others.

All of these things seem contradictory. And they probably are.

But somehow, it works. Because I am making it work.

For those who know me, all of this makes perfect sense.

(It literally doesn’t. But thanks for pretending anyway.)