After an extremely rough day, I grabbed the old video camera and sat down in the rocking chair. Not knowing what tape was in at the moment, I plugged it into the wall and pressed play. There were a few seconds of a blue screen, then a new picture popped up. My older sister, younger brother, and I were all wearing Disney t-shirts while sitting on the green couch in our living room. The second I saw that, I knew exactly what tape this was and what I was about to watch. This was the day mom and dad surprised us by telling us we were going to Disney World.
All three of us didn't believe our parents and it took a whole lot of convincing and proof for us to believe that we were actually leaving for Disney World in 20 minutes. However, the second we realized they were telling the truth, nothing could have ruined our day. (except maybe being told it was all a joke) There are only one or two other moments in my childhood that meet the level of excitement I had that day.
I tightly held the video camera, making sure there was no chance it would fall out of my hands. As the recording played, I laughed and started to cry. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the scene play on the tiny screen of the bulky video camera.
I was six. Bekah was eight. David was four. Ten and a half years ago, we were told some of the most exciting news any kid could ever receive.
Once I stopped the Disney World video, I walked over to the drawers by the TV. I grabbed my gymnastics competition tapes, the reason I pulled out the video camera in the first place.
I played my level 6 tapes first, followed by level 7. I was eleven years old. My hair was pulled back, gelled, and glittered, not allowing any piece of hair to move out of place. After finishing every event, I hugged my coaches and high-fived my teammates. I watched myself jump on bars, flip on beam, leap on floor, and fly over the vault. To this day, gymnastics has been one of the most amazing things I've ever been involved in and my experiences hold a very special place in my heart.
I turned the video camera off, placed it on the floor, then proceeded to cry. Hard.
All the tapes and memories made me want to go back. Back to the age where life was so simple and consistent. I miss first grade. I miss being overwhelmed with happiness hearing "Disney World". I miss gymnastics. I miss the hardest decision being what ice cream I wanted. I miss standing on the beam and being confident, rather than fearful, to do the next flip in my routine.
Life wasn't complicated then. I knew what I wanted. I was ready. I was comfortable.
Life's a whole lot harder now. I don't always know what I want. I'm fearful. I'm confused.
I think about how much I've grown and how much I've changed since first grade and since the beginning of middle school. Much time has passed, a lot of lessons have been learned, and many decisions have been made. But it doesn't end there... The process continues. Ahead of me, there are many more frustrating lessons to learn and many more tough decisions to make. Even though I believe 100% that challenges and trials make us who we are and cause us to grow, it didn't make the simple life any less appealing while sitting in the rocking chair.
I love life, but sometimes it would be nice to have a break from the craziness. It would be nice to go back.
To gymnastics. Or first grade.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Exhaustion and Grace
It's been one of those weeks: one very emotionally and physically exhausting week.
Since last Saturday, I've been waiting for this week to be over. All the crying made my eyes burn, the craziness made me unfocused, and the racing thoughts made me want to sit on the couch all day and do nothing.
Yesterday someone said to me, "I just wanna send you home and put you in bed so you can sleep!", to which I responded, "I'm actually not that tired. I got a lot of sleep last night." I answered honestly. I really didn't feel that tired at all. But she followed my answer with this: "You may not be physically tired, but you're emotionally tired."
Huh. She was completely right. I think yesterday was the first time in my life where I felt my emotional tiredness completely separate from my physical tiredness. Normally I either have just physical tiredness, both, or neither. It was definitely a new and odd feeling for me.
I'm emotionally drained. Thinking about the week coming up scares me. I wish I could have an extra week to make up for the crazy one that's almost behind me. Not being able to do this causes me to tear myself apart for not getting enough tasks done this past week. But you know what? There's this thing called grace.
Grace is something I execute poorly. During rough weeks or tiring times, I expect myself to continue doing everything I would normally do while feeling perfectly fine. One thing I've realized is that this is an unrealistic standard. Sometimes there are days, weeks, or months that just don't go as planned, and adjustment needs to occur. These adjustments consist of more rest, less activities, more prayer, and less worry. I can do all the justifying I want about how I need to continue everything, but the voice of grace still sits there and speaks in the back of my mind.
For the rest of my life, I'm pretty sure this lesson will have to be forced into my head over and over again. If I could remember to give myself grace, I'd probably have more room to breathe. And one thing I know for sure is that breathing is a very, very good thing.
Since last Saturday, I've been waiting for this week to be over. All the crying made my eyes burn, the craziness made me unfocused, and the racing thoughts made me want to sit on the couch all day and do nothing.
Yesterday someone said to me, "I just wanna send you home and put you in bed so you can sleep!", to which I responded, "I'm actually not that tired. I got a lot of sleep last night." I answered honestly. I really didn't feel that tired at all. But she followed my answer with this: "You may not be physically tired, but you're emotionally tired."
Huh. She was completely right. I think yesterday was the first time in my life where I felt my emotional tiredness completely separate from my physical tiredness. Normally I either have just physical tiredness, both, or neither. It was definitely a new and odd feeling for me.
I'm emotionally drained. Thinking about the week coming up scares me. I wish I could have an extra week to make up for the crazy one that's almost behind me. Not being able to do this causes me to tear myself apart for not getting enough tasks done this past week. But you know what? There's this thing called grace.
Grace is something I execute poorly. During rough weeks or tiring times, I expect myself to continue doing everything I would normally do while feeling perfectly fine. One thing I've realized is that this is an unrealistic standard. Sometimes there are days, weeks, or months that just don't go as planned, and adjustment needs to occur. These adjustments consist of more rest, less activities, more prayer, and less worry. I can do all the justifying I want about how I need to continue everything, but the voice of grace still sits there and speaks in the back of my mind.
For the rest of my life, I'm pretty sure this lesson will have to be forced into my head over and over again. If I could remember to give myself grace, I'd probably have more room to breathe. And one thing I know for sure is that breathing is a very, very good thing.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)