Season of waiting

Church has been awesome the past two weeks. I mean, it’s usually good, but it’s been knock-your-socks-off these past two weeks.

Today they talked about retaining your contentment when you’re living the single life. I like to think that I’ve been just fine and dandy on my own, but lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m the only one not in on the joke in that regard.

In fighting my whole life to define who I am, I realize when you take away the one thing that defines me (usually work-related), it’s like there’s nothing discernible left.

I forced myself to do a whole lot of nothing yesterday, minus taking Mom to lunch and to buy her groceries. And I was a nervous fucking wreck all day. I haven’t sit still in months. I tried moving furniture and unpacking a bit, but it didn’t capture my attention. I retreated into my head and worried about why I wasn’t worrying enough!

So today’s church broadcast was good for me, in that I’m reminded that we’re all in a season of waiting for something. And that this something might not be meant for us now or ever, so what are we doing with this time to be productive and get closer to God … what are we doing to fill up our lives and not come to resent Him for what we don’t have?

I want to write again. Fiction or even a diary. (One in the same! LOL) I want to paint. I want to pontificate. I want to volunteer. I want to get my pudgy pork roast butt back to Weight Watchers (three months without it and I haven’t lost a pound. Go figure).

I find that I drop everything that means anything when my stress level rises. And that’s the absolute opposite of what I should be doing — I should schedule time for mandatory fun or, at least, mandatory dreaming time. Because without it, that’s why the stress level rises further.

I do thrive on adrenaline. I get wrapped up in the excitement of whatever’s going on. I drop everything to be available. But even though I want to give 100%, all the time, I know I can’t. I need to recharge. I come across as a taskmaster but I don’t bring an ounce of creativity to the process when I haven’t allowed myself to stop in my tracks and regenerate it.

Maybe I do it as a distraction from the things I don’t have — the things that I’ve always said were unimportant, even if my heart might have felt otherwise.

I caught myself blurting out the other day, “God I miss D.C.” But I really don’t. I mean, of course I do — that’s my adopted home. But I didn’t enjoy it enough while I had it.

I’m where I’m supposed to be right now, and I don’t want to make the same mistake and neglect to form and sustain a real relationship with my surroundings. I hope I never lose my sense of wonder at the beautiful view from my balcony. I hope I never forget to breathe it in and feel as lucky as I am to be surrounded by water.

I hope I can get better about reminding myself that I am lucky to have my mom. A lot of people don’t have their mom. I have one person on this earth who thinks I walk on water. Even those who’ve supposedly found their soulmates might not even have that.

I have so many more talents and ideas than I ever let on. I try so hard just to work through life challenge after life challenge, problem after problem, task after task. That’s not the right outlet for creativity, although it helps. 😉 I’m very much hoping that my pretty little place (leaky roof and all) with the inspirational view will wake up the sleeping Goddess and I’ll soon unleash everything she’s been waiting to give to the world.

I don’t wait around well. And as I was reminded today, waiting and worrying does nothing to add hours to your life. So you might as well get off your ass and make every hour count. Maybe it’ll make the time go faster till my season of waiting draws to a close. …

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