Chaos gets a name tag
That damn beach ball refuses to stay underwater
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Have you ever been that kid in the swimming pool who tries to keep the beach ball underwater and then at the last possible moment, pulls your hands back and the ball flies into the air and hopefully hits an unsuspecting sibling or friend?
Me too.
However, my beach ball adventure goes a little differently in real life. I’ve spent years keeping my beach ball underwater, fighting the pressure and wobbly water, hoping no one saw how difficult it felt to manage this stupid plastic ball. Wishing I could stab it with scissors and deflate the annoying thing, I tried to accept my fate. Forever fighting an energy that wouldn’t leave me alone.
I’m a pretty spiritual person. I even received a piece of paper that said I “mastered divinity.” For awhile, I imagined this energy to be the Spirit. The Divine. I was engaged in some kind of cosmic journey where Love invited me forward and I tried to contain and manage the movement of God.
Ahh. The things we do to maintain our sense of control.
There’s always been this energy in me I didn’t understand. We’ll call her Chaos. She loved talking. A lot. She interrupted my good intentions, sending me in a million directions. Chaos questioned every decision, every thought, every impulse. She especially delighted in throwing emotions around like a toddler running down a wedding aisle tossing flowers every which way.
Chaos was out of control and I could tell she loved it that way.
I hated it.
I tried to live a normal life while keeping this damn beach ball underwater. I got married, got a master’s degree, served churches as a pastor, and birthed two babies, exhausted from holding Chaos underwater. No one could know. I didn’t understand her and I was ashamed.
In my 20s and early 30s, she finally filled out a name tag. Chaos identified herself as an anxiety and panic disorder. With a fierce determination to understand this new identity, I dedicated myself to meeting and befriending Chaos.
I no longer wanted to fight her.
I wanted to understand her.
Therapy. Spiritual direction. Coaching. Writing. Meditation. More therapy. Reading. Learning. Feeling.
Chaos started to unravel a bit. In a beautiful way. I showed up to her and she sensed it was safe enough to start telling me some of her story. I listened intently. Hanging on every word. I felt her pain and her fear. I listened to her hardest stories. She dissolved into a puddle of tears on the ground, many times over.
Fear longs to be acknowledged, believed, and comforted. Then fear can handle the truth. That Love is here too. And everything will be okay.
Fast forward to August of 2022 and Chaos is filling out a new name tag in my life. A name tag I never saw coming. I’ll tell you about that next time.
But first, what about you, my dear reader?
As you reflect on the tangle of yarn that it is your life in this season, is there a thread calling your name? One small piece sticking out of the mess that makes you wonder?
Maybe there’s a fear that you’re tired of keeping underwater. Something you’re ready to question. An assumption that might not be true anymore.
You’re invited to spend a little time with what you notice. Have a conversation with the thread. Name fear that arises. Comfort the fear. Ask more questions. Feel what rises in your body. Let it be what it is for now. The noticing is holy. Don’t rush to offload discomfort. Sit in it, even for a few seconds.
Be brave, my friend.
Love is waiting.