Chasing After Me

Someone observed something about me last week that was jarring:

I think it’s funny that you talk so much about being an external processor, yet you process things internally a hundred times before you let them out of your mouth.

She was right.

I guess I let the energy I get from being with people, communicating with people, and even simply writing skew my perspective.

The reality is internal or external processing is just that – a process. It’s not good or bad. It’s not stronger or weaker.

The jarring part of what she said is what I realized I let the internal processing do to me.

It. Immobilizes. Me.

Especially in places where I know I’m supposed to be sharing. Like on this blog. Crap, I even have trouble journaling (despite telling everyone I think they should!) because I feel the need for thoughts to be complete first…the need to be formed into something easily digestible, appealing, and certainly important in order to be presented.

Debilitating.

What if I share something that isn’t a complete story? Exposes more weakness or hurt than I’m comfortable with? What if I say something controversial? What if I say something that makes someone angry instead of fulfilled or encouraged? What if I say something plain stupid?

It stresses me out.

Processing holds an important place. But it shouldn’t supersede the processing meant to be shared with others.

So let’s not get in the way of ourselves.

After all, consuming things that are unprocessed mean more nutrients, more vitamins, more strength and, ultimately, more life.

Knowledge informs. Being informed is a good thing. Knowledge serves a purpose.

While knowledge and information help us get through life, experiences stoke passions in our lives…experiences transform our perspectives…experiences evoke cravings for the possible.

Knowledge is controllable. Experiences can be scary…we subject ourselves to the unknown. Allowing ourselves to experience life opens us up to risk. But experiences in our lives will always be more profound and fulfilling than any knowledge could possibly be.

Ask me how I know. Experiences changed me.

I had a conversation with a friend the other night. He shared a story of string of experiences that brought the knowledge he had to life. It ignited passion in him. It ignited excitement. It ignited a desire for more. He let the experiences take hold of him and bring him somewhere filled with life. Knowledge couldn’t do that on it’s own.

We get to embrace experiences. We get to create opportunities for others to experience. We get to let experiences transform us.

We get to grow. We get to learn. We get to share.

We get fulfilled.

One of the biggest enemies of my fulfillment is a lack of confidence.

Because it paralyzes me.

Once it paralyzes me, lack of confidence bleeds into other areas of my life. Once it paralyzes me, by definition, I cannot move…I cannot grow.

It’s a horrible spiral.

When it hits me, it results in a reluctance to embrace all of who I am…to be content with my rarity…to exercise my unique talents and perspectives.

I’m afraid to write. I’m afraid to speak up. I’m afraid to take risks.

It’s no secret that confidence ebbs and flows for everyone…all the time.

I’ve come to learn I’m ripe for a battle with confidence when I forget to spend ample time reflecting upon the things that amaze me…when I begin comparing my God-given purpose to the God-given purposes of others…when challenges begin feeling like free-falling instead of free-flying.

The best weapon in my battle? Realizing my being isn’t an end-state. My being is a through-state.

Realizing that fulfillment comes from embracing who I am, being content with my rarity and seeing my unique talents and perspectives as tools used to love and care for others.

Because then it’s not about believing in myself. It’s about trust in what is being done through me…whether or not I can see it…and that’s faith.

For a great blog on confidence, check out what Jenni Catron wrote on Cultivate Her!

One year ago I was packing up boxes at my desk.

One year ago I was meeting with people to let them know how much their friendships had meant to me over the years.

One year ago I did one most courageous thing I things I’ve ever done…I exchanged a life of routine and predictability for one filled with unknowns.

I left my amazing job of nearly 12 years to help friends plant a church…to start my own communications business…to learn more about myself.

Sounds cushy, right? Nope.

Crazy. Lost. Weak. Dense. Alone.

That’s how I’ve felt throughout the past year.

Stretched. Grateful. Loved. Fulfilled. Found.

That’s also how I’ve felt.

You see, courage doesn’t exist without risk.

Walking a path of unpredictability is hard. You end up tripping over yourself more than anything else. You doubt yourself. Question your decisions. You wonder who you are. And then you remember that it’s part of the ride. The courageous ride. The ride that shows promise of something great on the other side, even if you can’t see clearly what it is in the moment.

And, when you stop to remember the purpose, the ride becomes euphoric. It has meaning. You just need to put yourself in a place where you can see goodness and promise even in those dim moments.

My point? Opportunity is not painless. Even when it is what you know that you’re supposed to be doing. Even when you’re pursuing your passion and standing in your truth.

A year later, I’d make the same choice 1000 times over…even knowing all I’d feel. Because I’d also know the purpose found on the other side. The purpose to Bloom.

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Consider this a thank you note of sorts. A thank you to Best Buy and all of my amazing colleagues…for all you plant in your people…for all I learned…for all of your encouragement…and, dare I say, all your love. A year later I still feel it. And, it helped me discover purpose. I am forever grateful.