This is not what I signed up for... Hot mess. Dumpster fire. *Bleep* Show Failure to launch. Epic Fail. These terms just don't have the good ole' je ne sais quoi appeal they once had. The good-natured self-deprecation or playful razzing of our political foe or frenemy has died a death of Rasputin proportions this year. Stupid 2020. It's like the gift that keeps on giving. Like lice at your kid's school. Shudder.  I have felt like Luke, Leia, and Han Solo in the trash compactor scene of Star Wars more times than I can count this year. Walls closing in, up to my neck in garbage, watching the life I knew get squeezed into oblivion from all directions. This is excellent fodder for writing, lousing for living...  My inner monologue is not unlike the well-researched albeit constant doomsday ramblings of C-3PO. I whine. I worry. I overthink. I overanalyze. I am chock full of difficult problems and no easy solutions. When my mind shuts up long enough for my faith to kick in, it is like R2D2, quietly and calmly working in the background. While I agonized God has kept our family safe, financially stable, and mentally healthy for over 7 months. This is my God. Powerful. Reliable. Ever present. Still, I worry. I said I had faith, I didn't say it made me smarter. Curse you, neurons! I hope all of this has made me more compassionate and trusting. I hope that I'm learning to worry less and pray more. I hope I can remember that worrying is like spinning your tires in the mud, it looks like you're doing something, but you aren't getting anywhere. (Maybe I should rewatch My Cousin Vinny) Hey, I'm a work in progress, people.  Not a person of faith? No problem. This isn't a sneaky conversation message, although my faith walk has been one of immeasurable blessing. This is simply my story of how this year has shaped up. I'd love to hear about yours. What have you learned? How are you stronger? What have you learned to live without or appreciate more? Whatever your story and I would love to hear it, I can only speak to my own experience. Here's what I learned: my inner monologue is the freakin' worst. The W-O-R-S-T. Think of the most insufferable boss, friend, relative, or relationship you've ever had all rolled into one and they are constantly talking... In. Your. Head.  Where does your strength to survive the trash compactors of life come from? I hope somewhere in your life you are uplifted, loved, encouraged, and valued. I hope it starts with you. I hope you offer it to others. In this season of life, my strength has come from leaning on my faith more than my mind (the struggle is real), connecting with a community of faith, reinvigorating old friendships, writing, spending more time with my immediate family, and appreciating our homestead with new eyes. Wherever your faith, strength, and resilience comes from, I hope it is a source of quiet, reliable comfort. We could all use a little less C-3PO and more R2D2 in our lives. Frankly, I could just use a droid to clean the bathrooms. (Send help, seriously.) Until then, may the force be with you. You know, as long as it's not from 2020, because that force has some seriously funky Juju. Just sayin'. ~G.G. Thank You For Your Support. |
G.G. Knoth is a poet and epic introvert. You'll probably find her wearing black and sipping espresso hiding behind a book in the corner of a bookstore, but she'd rather you didn't. S H A R ECategoriesArchives |
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