When the past hijacks your present

Note the traveling band that moved from my closet
into my car into a storage unit. For now.

So, I am in the process of moving. More like, I am in the process of doing all these piddly fixes and repairs to my old house, and organizing everything I own in preparation to move to my new house.

When you clean out your closets, you really...clean out your closets.

I haven't learned that trick yet that I think most people do better than me. You know that trick where people just...move on. The ironic thing is that I was talking to a good friend of mine that has really been a mentor of mine for the past fifteen years, and she was asking me if I was excited about the move and the new community.

"You move on really easily, though" she said.

I do? Well, that was news to me.

What she really meant was that, I have no problem making new friends. And the opposite end of that pendulum? I have no problem saying good bye to friends.

Ouch.

Her comment has brought me into soul searching. Cleaning out my closets here has send me into the abyss. The past. The broken past. The mistakes.

Isn't it funny how we look to the past and never remember the full truth? It can either serve our self-pity or as a device to romanticize how things never really were.

So my new personal mission is to remind people that i don't say good bye easily, even though it appears that I do. I simply internalize it. Hide it away. The alternative is more painful for me, so it became a defense mechanism. Appearing to have the ability to move on easily, to be a social chameleon will never allow me to be fully known.

So that's the trick. Starting over. Not giving up on myself, the ability to change, to forgive myself, to remember that past mistakes don't define my future. It is a choice three hundred times a day to not let the past hijack my present. And hopefully, lifting the veil off of our defense mechanisms helps us all to be a little more open with each other.

At least, that's my hope.

Stop grieving what's been lost.

Start building on what remains.

See, I was innocently riding the spin bike this morning at around 6:30 am, and decided to take a note out of my friend Pam's book and listen to a sermon instead of my standard workout music.

Little did I know that young Steven Furtick would hit me good. He said, and I quote:

"Someone out there needs to know this. Someone out there needs to hear this: 'Stop grieving what's been lost. Start building on what remains.'"

This was meant for me. I am the someone out there that needs to know this. I randomly picked this sermon from 2011 to listen to. Does God work through technology like a time machine? Yes. Emphatically, yes.

See, I have been grieving what's been lost for the better part of a year. In my head, playing and replaying certain things. Certain people. Certain situations that I wish were different. Certain feelings that I wish would change. Times and places and conversations and texts and work outs and numbers and clothes and food and - you name it. I grieve it.

I grieve what's been lost. As if I have no other option.

But I do have another option. Not all is lost. Do you hear me? Because I believe someone out THERE needs to hear THIS: not all is lost.

We all need to start building on what remains. Yes, we are broken. But yes, we are also resilient. I still haven't figured out how to stop grieving when it comes to my emotional pain. The best thing I can say is that I am taking steps. They are baby steps, but they are steps nonetheless.

We have set backs. But they are temporary. As my dad says: "this might be your rainy season, but rain makes things grow."

Not all is lost. I need that reminder as much as you need it today.

Start building on what remains.

-Liz

I think I thought about it, but I think I can't stop thinking about it.

One foot in front of the other. Some
days, that's as far ahead as I can think.

Ever find yourself saying you're over something? But, you're not over it? And maybe you're trying to convince yourself you're over it, but then one day, you get slapped over the head that you're not over that thing you said you were over?

It's probably just me.

See, I am a fixer. I need answers. I want resolutions. I want to solve for x, I want a final number, and I want to move on. But life, unlike Algebra 1, doesn't seem to agree to my wants or desires.

What I want, I cannot get.

There are ways to escape other people's thoughts and opinions. But how do I escape my own head?

I've tried long walks. I've tried losing myself in tv shows, in a book, in work. But my brain works overtime. So much so, that I am surprised it hasn't overheated or imploded.

All of this to say, if you are wondering about me, if I am over it, wondering if I am wondering about you, the answer is yes. I don't get over things fast. In fact, things seem to rule over me for far too long. The past, the present, the future.

I read something great this morning that was meant for me. And maybe you, too:

Most of the situations that entangle your mind are not today's concerns; you have borrowed them from tomorrow. @Jesus_Calling
— Liz Simpers (@gochangemove) May 11, 2014

Anyone else? Yeah, I thought it might just be me....

Thinking of you.
-Liz

Do your thang.

In case you were wondering, this is what it looks like
when I do my thang. At work. For a photo shoot.

It has been a silent month. But that doesn't mean life has been silent!

In the past month, I have changed jobs. In the past month, I have sold my house and bought a house. In the past month, I turned a year older. And I have had to say goodbye to one community and say hello to another.

Today an old friend got in touch with me unexpectedly and we talked about life, and the past, and God, and what we struggled with then, and what we struggle with now.

I talk a lot about not being a hypocrite. I talk a lot about honesty and identity, so much so that you would think I had this stuff down pat by now.

Nope.

But my phone call today with an old friend reminded me of something great: who I am, at my core, is good. Very good. The problem is, especially in the Christian community, we try to be someone that we aren't. Someone that we think is better. Someone more "godly" except - we don't really try to be more godly, we just try to be more "religious."

To talk the right way. To be submissive. To be always agreeable. To be quiet. To be - someone I'm not.

I am loud. I am defiant. I challenge authority. I question. I wonder. I wander. But all of these things - in the hopes of knowing God even better than I already do. In the hopes of knowing the real me even better than I already do.

When did this happen? When did we get told that we aren't good enough? That we have to act a certain way to be accepted? That we need to pretend to be wise, and perfectly calm, and steady, and strong?

I hope that you do your thing. I hope that you look in the mirror and see someone amazing. I hope that you don't make a mental checklist of what needs to be fixed. And I hope that we all continue to see God in ourselves. If it's one thing this past month has taught me, it is that people love me for me. They really don't love me when I try to be the person I think they want me to be.

It's not as complicated as I like to think it is. But simple is HARD. Simply put, I need to allow myself to be seen. The real me. Not the me that I have invented in my head to look better and sound better and act better. The me that wants to get out and be known.

So, yeah, You too. You be you. And do your thang. I feel that fire kicking up in me again so watch out for the near future.

-Liz