Monday, May 23, 2016

Growing Pains

I'm not a big fan of the memes. (And still not 100% sure how to pronounce it...mee-mees? mems? may-mays?) They are too-oft repeated, misspell words, reek of supposed-to-be-inspiring cheesiness or just aren't as funny as they think they are. 

Sometimes all of the above. 

But every now and then, I come across one that resonates. And has the power to stop me in my tracks. (And unless your name is both Ben AND Jerry, that takes some doing. Let me tell you.) 

Like this one:




This one made me stop my scrolling. Past recipes I will never attempt. Past workout clips I couldn't attempt if I wanted to. Past "please copy and paste this status"es I will never understand. Past politics I don't want to see. Past pictures of friends I do want to see. Past sad things. Past funny things. Past all of it. Simply stop. And reflect.

Because this is me. This is the me of the last two years. 

Buried. 

Under monumental stress. Under feelings of failure. Under mountains of sadness and hopelessness I have no right to feel. Under unshed tears. Under the crushing weight of very real fear. Under an unwillingness to relinquish control over circumstances I have absolutely no control over. 

Buried. 

And it does indeed feel dark. And lonely. And, admittedly, a little silly. And self-indulgent. Because I know that I am blessed. With so, SO very much. I know. But knowing and feeling are so different. And I can't get my heart to line up with my head. 

And I've been trying. I really have. Trying to find the happiness and gratitude that I know I should feel. Trying to look for bright sides and silver linings and tender mercies. But still ultimately feeling very, very buried. 

But chances are that I am not. I am not buried and forgotten. 
Chances are that darkness is not an inevitability. That buried is not my final destination. 
Chances are that I am supposed to BE more. To bask in light. To grow and maybe even thrive. 

And it's hard. This becoming. This growing. And it hurts like hell. 

BUT...in order to grow into something glorious and useful, a seed has to first spend some time in the deep dark soil. It has to wallow in seemingly endless deluges of water. And ultimately, it has to rip apart. Split completely open.

That can't feel very good either. 

But it submits. 

Because it knows that it is destined to be so much more than just a seed.