Get Your S*** Together

Not long ago, one of my brothers wrote that to me in an email. It was in jest regarding some small detail but it has echoed in my brain since then.

Get it together.

I’m a week into this detox. Of no boys, booze, or bumming. And I’ll be honest — the no boys and booze I’ve been able to manage but last week I was not great about going to the gym. I’m working on it though.

It’s funny because I always know that detox comes with side effects. When you cut out caffeine or sugar or whatever you feel the symptoms. A headache, sometimes body aches, crankiness. There’s a physical response. I guess I should have remembered my spirit would have a similar response.

The first few days I felt okay. I was aware of the lack in my life but it felt refreshing in a sense. Calming. Quiet.

And then I found the emotions.

The ones who had been wound up for awhile now. The ones that were put on hold while I reacted to situations instead of processing during them. The ones I shoved aside to deal with the moment. The ones I did not pay attention to.

I ran into them at full speed, 100%. And it hurt.

It was like all of a sudden I was faced with all. the. things. and I now needed to decide what was what. And I needed to deal. Because I don’t want to carry the heavy things with me into this next season of life. I don’t want to bring the wreckage. I don’t want to bring the parts I can leave behind.

There is new ahead for me. There is a fresh start and unknown. It is big and scary and will require my attention. So I must deal now with the things I have not dealt with.

Get it together.

I find myself unpacking the pieces to lay them all out. I look at them, decide which ones may be thrown away and which ones I’d like to keep. I let the ones that hurt, hurt. I let the ones that bring me joy, bring me joy. And I keep examining them.

I make space in a place I did not know was full of clutter. And as I make space I have to face the hard reality of what I actually want and what I actually felt and who I really am. I sift through the pieces of my heart and what happened to it and what I find is not what I was expecting. Because it’s not about wanting the attention or anyone in general. It’s become clear what I actually want. And that, is scary. And I could drive myself crazy thinking of all the different “what if’s” in this situation. But I must let them be whatever they are.

So I wrestle and I fight and I grieve and I surrender. I find more pieces I do not want. More pieces to hang on to. I feel alone and vulnerable and raw. But I do not turn to anyone to validate or distract me from them. I do not allow anyone to come in to the mess and put a bandaid on it. I pick up the fragments and hold them in my hands, taking them to the only One who can do anything with them. I ask of Him to make me whole again. I uncurl my fingers and whisper “thy will be done.” Even though I know that my will and His will could once again be at odds.

There’s no guarantee in this process of an outcome. There’s no certainty. There’s no safety. Except for the fact that I know whatever the outcome, I will be better. I will, hopefully, be becoming the woman I am supposed to be. A woman who tries to be more like Jesus in the way she loves. A woman who will intercede on behalf of those in her life. A woman who will open her heart and remain soft. A woman who believes in second, third, fourth, fifth chances. A woman who allows grace to seep through her words. A woman who admits when she is wrong. A woman who graciously accepts truth even when it hurts. A woman who will always believe the best about someone.

This is the woman I am longing to become, a woman I occasionally catch glimpses of but one who does not exist enough. This woman is the reason I am clearing away the clutter. The reason I am not covering up my hurt or looking for someone to take it away. The reason silence can feel like the loudest sound in the world. The reason I must deal with the things.

Get it together. 

 

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