My Depth of Field

I haven't posted in a really long time.  A testament to the season of life I find myself in right now.

I'm still on my journey of "wholeness", which sometimes if I let it, can seem like a completely unattainable goal.  I don't think it's a surprise that Balance is the theme I keep coming back to-- it's a recurring theme, one I never really seem to master. 

Balance is really hard.  And I think the reason it's so hard rests in my mindset.

I'm a Destination person.  I thrive on goals, accomplishments, deadlines, and breakneck paces.  I tend to go full throttle and race to the end, see the completed project, enjoy the completion for exactly one second, and then fall straight to the floor in a state of sheer exhaustion.  The kind of exhaustion that requires more than twelve hours of sleep to recover from.  I'm a DO-er.  

And part of me (not so secretly) loves that fact.

I finish things. 

But a lot of times that also means that I miss 99.9% of the journey because I'm wholly focused on the finish line.  And I think that's where the root of my balance problem begins.

One of my favorite photography effects is Depth of Field.  A photograph with a clear focus, and blurry edges.  I love the artistry.  But perhaps I really just love the focus.  The control.  The ability to pick my subject and blur everything else.  I go to great lengths to craft pictures like this.  So it's no surprise that my life looks a lot the same.

I seek validation from completing projects.  Finishing things on time.  Being "responsible."  Isn't that the ideal after all?  And I've met people who marvel over my ability to finish things-- they ask me what my secrets are. 

I smile (inwardly), but how do you tell people that that (the validation of completion) is the motivation that propels me forward.  The ability to impress. 

And since that's the fuel that keeps me going, a "sprinting" pace of project completion is almost necessary.  Because validation is a tricky thing; it comes in spurts and then dries out.  And then you must run to the next thing-- certain you'll find more validation there.  So you continue the silly cycle until you can't move.  Or life doles out pain in other unexpected places.

And then you crumble.  Because the glue that kept everything together was the praise of others.  And you're too weary to even keep going. 

And if you're like me, that's where you land.  Thirsty and lost.  Battered and slightly broken.

Unable to balance.  Unable to shift your focus and correct the blur.  Unable to see any speed but "sprint."

You stare at the canyon in front of you.  Paralyzed by fear.   Because how to do you move forward when you know your motivation needs to change and your old habits won't get you there?

One tiny step at a time.  Or a giant leap.

One practical application.  One detail at a time.

That's the only place to start.

So today I'm working on embracing the journey.  The messy parts of the picture that I generally try to artistically blur out completely.  Because I'm learning that "wholeness" isn't about the finish line, it's more about the character-building journey along the way.

Introvert Meltdown

Over the past few months I've been on a journey to learn more about myself.  In the spirit of "wholeness" (my word for the year), I'm learning to embrace who I am and how I function, as opposed to constantly trying to fit myself into a preexisting "extrovert" mold.

There have been numerous "AHA!" moments and even more "ohh, so that's how extroverts see it...".

Of course, that doesn't mean that I have it all figured out.  In fact, quite the opposite-- today would be a good example of that.

As I sat through a long, dreaded meeting, I hit a new wall.  A conversation went round and round-- long-winded extroverts didn't realize that their chatter was pushing me over the edge-- but no decisions were being made, in fact, most of the talk was doing nothing.  Of course, as the only introvert in the room, how were they to know that I was approaching "no return"?  And at that moment I literally snapped.  Verbally actually.  Then, overwhelmed by everything, I started shaking.  I just escaped from the room before I was reduced to tears.  Sitting on the floor of the bathroom crying uncontrollably-- sucking in breath like I was dying.  It was a mess.  And actually a little bit scary.  There have been many times that I've wanted to leave the room during a meeting, but this was the first time I actually had to.

The saddest part of it was that I felt silly.  Like I had no reasonable explanation for the tears.  Like my reaction was completely off base from the circumstances.  At the time, I felt like I was overreacting.  But as I sit here now, I see the fallacy there.  Sure, if I'm going to grow then I need to learn how to better deal with meeting situations like today, but my reaction were a natural response to extreme overstimulation (for me, at least).  Maybe it sounds egotistical for me to say that in embracing my introvertedness, I'm accepting my feelings and responses as natural.  Don't get me wrong, growth is necessary too.  But I refuse to degrade myself and my response today as petty or silly.

The key is in noting what it was that set me off (to diminish these triggers) and to remove myself (momentarily) from a situation before it escalates to the "meltdown" point.

Baby steps though.

Off Balance

I don't post nearly as often as I should.  But then again, there are a lot of things I don't feel I do often enough.

And that's my problem.

Every couple of months I, figuratively, hit a wall.  It's like my wheels are spinning, but I've completely stopped moving.  Or sometimes it feels like I'm on a very off-kilter merry-go-round and I'm holding on for dear life-- watch out skinned knees!

Regardless, I hit this point where I know something is amiss.  My life's cadence has shifted-- and not in a good way.  My balance is off.  I crave almost nothing but pure, unadulterated time to myself.  To be alone.  Which, of course, isn't bad (especially since I'm an introvert and that's how I replenish my energy), but let's be honest, right now I'm craving alone time like I crave sleep.  In a desperate, "running on fumes" kind of way.

Which pretty much explains the off-balance feelings.  Despite the fact that I've made shifts to volunteer in my strengths, and efforts to connect with good friends, I'm overwhelmed.  Too many people taking up too many of my free nights, and too many of my free nights taken up by projects.  There is no good replenishing going on. 

Too much striving. 
Too much expectation. 
Too much guilt. 
Too much to be done.
Too much.
TOO MUCH.

I'm pretty confident that Wholeness and Balance go hand in hand.  So I suppose it's time to strategically figure out what balance means for me.

Lake Eagleson

In a matter of hours, large portions of my town were underwater.  At least partially, if not wholly.

Our region is in an actual "state of emergency", per the governor.

So it isn't completely surprising that it's past 1 a.m. and I'm sitting here, contemplating the the ironic nature of my day, while water is being pumped out of my cellar.

Asking God questions definitely gets you answers-- I just wasn't expecting mine quite so soon.

It seems like a silly thing to ask for, but I asked for challenges this year.  Challenges that cause me to grow and mature into a woman of God.  The sentiment is this, a comfortable life with few issues warrants few changes, but struggles test us and push us past our limits-- I want to live uncomfortably because that's where the biggest change exists.  But I'm quickly learning that it's really much easier to ask for challenges than it is to deal with challenges when they come. 

Tonight I came home from work to four feet of standing water in my cellar.  Enough water to swim in.  I've decided to call it "Lake Eagleson", for posterity.  I've had an inkling that my sump pump might be broken for a while now, but it never seemed a big enough priority to actually follow through with.

Because a picture is worth a thousand words... and the only thing you're missing with this picture is the other about 800 square feet of cellar behind those doors.

In my panic, I called my parents and texted a good friend nearby.  I asked them to come-- surely one of them would know what to do.  This eventually led to my friend finding a friend with an irrigation pump.  After hours of waiting and worrying, we got started.  It has been about four hours since then.

I was (and still am) truly amazed by the goodness of people who go out of their way to help others-- that they barely know.  That they will come back at 1 a.m. to check and see that the pump is working correctly.  And that are willing to help me get things settled in the morning once the water is all finally gone (and before the clouds open up again).

So I'm left sitting here dumbfounded at my ability to question God.  Do I believe he has a plan for Salem?  Of course.  Do I frequently question how much of an impact we can really have on this city?  All of the time.  Who am I to question this-- when people I barely know are working side by side with me through a crisis?

I guess you could say I asked for it-- not a flood (per se), but a tangible reminder of the power of kindness, hospitality, and grace.

Not exactly how I would have chosen to learn this lesson, but definitely impactful.

Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good flooding story?

New York for New Years - Watching the ball drop

In the spirit of checking things off my list (30 before 30), and seeing a very good friend of mine (who I've promised to visit for over a year now), I ventured off to New York to ring in the New Year in Times Square.  Seriously, who hasn't wanted to put that accomplishment in their hat?

No?  Okay, just me then.

The trip was amazing.  And a lot of walking.  I saw all the iconic sites: Empire State Building, Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square, etc. and ate lots of great NY food.  Plus, I spent a good chunk of my trip pretending I was a "real New Yorker", and I'll admit, I fooled a couple of people.  Apparently I have "in a hurry" and an exasperated "get out of my way" look down pat.

Here's the tree from Rockefeller Center.  Who doesn't love gigantic trees covered in sparkly lights?  (What's that you say?  Probably the people who had to put them all up?  Nah)

But the highlight, and one of the main tenets of the trip itself, was New Years Eve, which was lovingly spent with tens of thousands of my closest buds.  A seven-hour party right in the middle of the street.  My friend and I weren't on Broadway (where the stage was), we were on 7th Avenue (which crosses Broadway, making an "X" at Times Square).  Imagine a triangle, with point at the top (ball) and the two sides (Broadway & 7th) going out from there.  So no, I didn't see (or hear) Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber... and thank goodness for that.  We got down there around 4:30 pm, stuffed ourselves like sardines into metal police fencing (which corralled off the area people were allowed to wait in), had no idea what was going on, and then tried to entertain ourselves for seven hours.  We did crossword puzzles, listened to grossly inappropriate conversations happening around us, and even got mistaken for a mother/daughter duo (I'll let you guess who was confused for who).  Then I got hit on by a 16 year old.  Yep.  Happy New Year, New York.  You've been swell.

Wholeness

At the end of 2011 I read a blog post that challenged me.  A challenge that instead of creating resolutions (that I would likely only keep for a few weeks), that this year I choose a word.  Or more truthfully, allow God to show me the word that will encompass my journey for the next 365 days.

The idea immediately captured my heart, and I started scrambling to figure out what my word was. That's the "planner" in me.  Of course, nothing came to me when I wanted it to--isn't that always how it works?  But on New Years day, while I was sitting alone in a church service in Manhattan, I heard my word: Wholeness.

I let the word roll over my tongue and swirl around my head.  And then I metaphorically set that word on a shelf in my soul--to be looked at and tangibly present during struggles and triumphs this year.  And, strangely enough, I love the largeness of the word.  That I don't know all that it entails.  That I'm not entirely sure what the journey is going to look like.

This word is my journey for the next year.  My battle cry.  And I feel like it captures the desires of my heart well; to seek God more fully, to grow in grace and truth, to impart that truth to others, and to build lasting, solid friendships with those around me.

Here's to a year full of promises and lessons.  Joy and pain.  And growth and maturity.

Hi, my name is Megan and I'm an Introvert.

I'm an introvert in my core, but through culture and prompting, I'm sometimes forced into semi-extroverted roles.  That's one of those interesting paradigm shifts where I try to figure out my role in a world with my spiritual gift of leadership along with my natural inclination to fade into the background.

Source

Sometimes I feel like I've been placed in a really unique role.  With a foot in both worlds.  And a voice that isn't always heard.

Disclaimer: There is a lot of misunderstanding between both Introverts & Extroverts.  I'm not saying that I understand the intricacies of all extroverts.  Just like I don't understand men.  I speak only for what I've seen and sensed.

For most of my existence I've felt misunderstood.

I had an epiphany of sorts last summer when I realized that extroverts frequently try to "convert" introverts.  Not the other way around--that would just be silly, right?

I've grown up in a culture that praises the extroverted.  And for a long time, I felt like I was broken.  I made strong efforts to join the extroverts.  And I usually failed.  More recently I let go of the desire to be extroverted--regardless of the value I believed came with that title. There was a certain freedom in accepting myself as I was created while seeking to find the balance between pushing myself out of my comfort zones to do the work God had created for me, and trying to be someone that I definitely was not created to be.

During leadership conversations centered around "drawing out the quiet students", I usually find myself reaching unusual levels of frustration.  The key is figuring out the difference between "just shy" and "naturally introverted", and then finding appropriate ways to stretch those people without making them think that they must act a different way to "be normal".  What the extrovert doesn't see are the high levels of anxiety and frustration that go along with "being extroverted".  For me, instead of enjoying where I'm at, I'm social conditioned to constantly question myself.  "You should be more social" turns into an overwhelming task at times--one I frequently "fail".  And the failure to live up to these social norms is surprisingly upsetting/frustrating.

When you start trying to mold introverts into fake extroverts you invariably dismiss the valuable role that introverts can play.  Those are usually the few moments I feel emboldened enough to speak up.  For those of us who typically won't. 

The roles are going to look different, just like each individual person holds a unique gifting.  Generally speaking though, introverts aren't going to naturally volunteer for roles that require microphones, or costumes, or center stage.  But limiting volunteer choices to the obvious can be troublesome for introverts.  They want to serve, but if you don't create appropriate roles, they're likely to step back and question their ability to help at all.

There is a beautiful interplay between extroverts and introverts.  A natural balance.  I'm confident that this balance can bleed over perfectly into kingdom work.  We just need more leaders who are able to identify those roles for the people who don't feel like they fit in as they are.