I started to write this post several times, not knowing what words to use, trying on titles such as “Not Enough” and “When I Just Can’t.” But with titles like that, words that have already been over used too many times, and didn’t even accurately describe what I was feeling in those depths, the closed closets inside me. I was getting angry, partially raging hormones, partially frustration of expectations not going as planned. The immature tantrums of a child not getting her way. They never lasted long, just rose unexpectedly and fiercely.
Why would I get so angry at a small being who needed my love and attention? I cringe as I type those words, admitting the growls that rise from within. They seemed to happen when I was just trying to take care of myself, and then it would come again. The need. I was just trying to take care of myself! You know, the whole “self-care” craze that is going on right now? Why was I being punished for trying to take care of myself? Not even anything crazy, just a moment of sleep or the space for a deep sigh. In one of these banters of inner chaos, I felt a word slither our, like a snake revealing what was below.
Stinginess. There was a stinginess in my soul.
My perspective had been skewed by all the chatter of the need for self-care. Mind you, I believe in self-care quite a bit, and I am not ragging on you if you do as well! I’m merely confessing the way my brain took it out of context and made it something it’s not. I had taken self-care and used it as a shield, a way to protect myself from giving with all I have. I had this mental picture of me, holding tightly to some object that wasn’t even that important, refusing to give it up because I felt like it was all I had left. With the realization of this picture, I see that I had bought into a lie, a lie that stated, “There is only so much to go around.” When you believe that, it makes sense to ferociously protect. But the reality is, there is more than enough.
There is more that comes at the end of yourself.
I that picture, I can see myself giving in and releasing what I am holding, then running towards the direction of whoever has pulled it from my grasp and diving headlong, spinning and relishing the joy of overflowing abundance. In many cases, it is towards this small, precious little girl who craves my love and attention in this season of her life. How dare I be stingy with my love for her? I hate the temptation to build a wall between us in the name of protection. I would rather be on the same side, on the same team, living in each others moments and gobbling up every sweet memory.
I write this out as a confession, something I have and continue to struggle with. My tendency is to be selfish because I am human, and I will fight that everyday to live in the overflow of love that comes after I spend all that I think that I have.