There Is No Formula To This.

The voices.

You know the voices.

We all do.

Your Career:

“Hurry up and get promoted.”

“Make more money.”

“You are moving too slowly and it’s embarrassing, people are watching.”

“Look at your peer who is the same age and thriving. Why can’t you be more like them? Why aren’t you more successful?”

Society (Sometimes)/ Your Body, as a Female (Other Times):

“Hurry up and find your life partner and have a baby or two, PLEASE.”

“You know you are running out of time and before you know it, it will be too late.”

Recently, I have watched several dear friends of mine sit in a whole lot of pain because they are wrapped up in these voices.

They have listened too hard for too long.

They feel stuck in their career and are afraid to make the next move or don’t even know what the next move is, which can feel even more scary.

They move away and then move back and then away again, and feel absolutely, completely restless. (I can relate to this… Nashville and its “exploding growth” and “thriving business community” annoys me most days… it’s a complicated relationship, 8 years and counting).

They have gone on really shitty dates with too many strangers, and they are beyond emotionally exhausted.

They want to be having babies, but can’t.

You know what I want to tell these voices most days?

Shut.

UP.

I want to redefine 30.

I want to redefine being a woman in the year 2018.

I want to redefine me.

In my own, authentic way.

And please know, I am no expert at this.

I am no “preaching to the choir” kind of girl.

This stuff is hard.

And those voices are loud.

Lord knows, I stayed in a relationship for far too long, thinking I was on the way to getting all of the external crowns of “achievement”, all of the noise to finally shut those voices up.

Engagement.

Marriage.

Children.

And I was trying so hard to create something out of something that was… not.

I was trying to make a circle a square, y’all.

And it just didn’t work.

Did I feel like I failed at first when we ended it?

Yes.

Did I feel shame?

Yes.

Was I angry at myself?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

(A thousand times, yes).

But then there came this:
Grace.

SO much grace.

Grace for myself to heal at my own pace.

Grace to forgive myself and others, even if that comes in baby steps.

Grace to “get back to work” when I was emotionally ready and mentally able to actually focus, and some days that is there and some days it’s just not.

Grace when my words feel sloppy- when I have to keep beginning the same story again and again or my voice trails off because I am not making any sense and I mumble things like,  “Wait, that’s not how that goes..” or, “Does that make sense?”

Grace to start dating again and then to find humor in the awkwardness of it all, and then, to share stories with girlfriends on my couch in my living room as we laugh and drink wine and feel human.

Grace when I find someone new I kind of even like but then have to answer some of his questions with fading eyes and a, “Can we talk about that later..?”

(Pacing myself).

Grace for my mistakes because I know they will come- they always do.

Grace to decorate my house when I am in the mood- I can’t force that stuff, ya know.

Grace to cook slowly.

Grace to make a mess in my kitchen because those meals taste better, we all know that.

And the best part?

It is totally mine.

My grace.

For me.

Because I know that I need it.

And sometimes that’s the only Truth that I know for sure.

The kind of grace when you watch a two and half year old refuse to be helped when she is getting out of the car and her foot just never seems to hit the floor but her level of focus is out of this world. Or when the same two and a half year old is trying to put on her jacket so you can finally leave the house and you are already running late and of course, the tiny baby jacket is upside down, inside out and her right elbow is rotating at an extremely slow, pathetic pace. But again, she is determined and she is growing up just like the rest of us, and is proud of her growth. So proud.

Sometimes we need to ease into the slowness of our growth.

“There is no formula to this,” I told my friend a while back over the phone. She was going through the same thing at the same time as me, (a breakup). I imagine it was something kind of like having a friend share the same exact month of your pregnancy. (I don’t know anything about this, but I am guessing that would be a small pocket of comfort and strength when you want to complain about your weight changing or share stories of nausea or sleep deprivation).

And then there’s this--

What does grace feel like?

Grace feels like finally taking off a heavy, heavy backpack for the first time after a long and boring day of school, a day full of bright fluorescent lights, oily, acne-covered faces, uncomfortable desks and way too much homework. You forget you were even wearing the damn thing but as soon as you take it off, you feel your spine open up like a flower at the top of spring.

Grace feels soft.

It feels like forgiveness.

It feels like space.

So much space.

The best kind.