It's been said I put a lot of pressure on myself, Generally speaking, I agree. When the pressure's on, I function as if some catastrophic consequence is looming if I don't...what? Show up on time? Clean my kitchen before I go to bed? Rigorously exercise? Say the right things?Be completely cool and cavalier under all this pressure?
Who is it that makes these demands of me? Who gets inside my head and says, I must be so disappointing to you - "you" being the nonexistent yet ever present observer of my life?
Here's where it hovers on a grander scale...
Due to the influx of constant correspondence (via text), and constant comparison (via all the rest of it), my definition of "life-long" friends has changed and become somewhat skewed. When I'm in the company of friends who get regular texts from their other friends while we're together, I begin to feel one-dimensional. Like, apparently I am not needed elsewhere. Truth is, I don't have friends I text daily (or even weekly), so I question if I qualify as life-long, since I'm not on anyone's most recents list. And I can't even talk about how sad I get that I don't have girls I go on trips with... I mean, (via my social connections), doesn't everyone?
The pressure whispers, 'do I matter?'
Another area the pressure has me hamstrung is security. It seems I should have had the good sense to project manage my home, make wise investments, and blaze through half my bucket list by now. Oh, and buy health insurance I can actually use. Knowing how abysmal my attempts at these have been, I muddle along, perceiving some unseen others as victors in life because they navigated the big stuff successfully and have the spoils to show for it.
The pressure whispers, 'my best years have been lost.'
Then there's the whole productivity/purpose thing. I can waste hours (translation: days), sitting on a couch strategizing how to best execute my Next Big Thing, while supposedly everyone else is living their purpose driven life. They're following their hearts and running their races, regardless of impediments. Meanwhile, I feel trapped by the nothingness. How did the stay their course, find their stride and realize their dreams?
The pressure whispers, 'why am I so incapable, so lame?'
This is the pressure I speak of. Some may say, the lies I listen to. When I'm in my right mind, having a good day, meaningful encounter, or simply taking a walk, I know these things aren't true.
We all struggle to find lasting friendship - to not be let down when "life-long" and "day to day" don't equate, and can logically grasp those are two very different concepts. (and PS - traveling is expensive and more a function of socio-economics than it is friendship.)
No one feels completely secure. Who could? Life is crazy. Those appearing more peaceful are those who place their trust in God, or, because they happen to be doing fairly well at the moment, themselves. (But self is a very precarious trust-holder.)
Here's a little secret: every speaker/writer/dream-maker desperately hopes that what they're saying/writing/doing matters to someone, somewhere. (And lest we fail to acknowledge, words are forever stored in that elusive "cloud" so perhaps the fewer attached to our name, the better.)
It's time to take the pressure off.
This is yet another reason I have been enamored with the humanity of Christ. When I recall, "he was tempted in every way as I was, yet without sin", I forget he had people following him around all day long, every day, for at least three years. I forget he had an actual audience.
Talk about pressure.
Given he was exposed to similar struggles as I, He must have wondered if his life-long friends would be there for him in his day to day; wondered if he'd managed each sacred moment completely; wondered if he was making an earthly difference.
That doesn't make him less God, but more human - and he was fully both.
His life was lived in perfect balance; the ideal blend of friendship and solitude, intention and interruption, purpose without the striving.
And then, the sweet exchange: His life well lived, for mine.
Christ in me, the hope of glory, silenced the audience.
So why all the pressure?
~elizabeth (Liz) d.
