I tried to write three different blog posts for today before scrapping all of them.
The first one was about sex (again) and needed more work. The second was also about sex but I didn’t have enough time to sort out my thoughts before trying to publish this morning. And the third was about productivity, which was so boring that even as I wrote it I was thinking, “This is so boring.”
So I’m giving up, and instead I’m going to Starbucks to get a cheese bagel, which is also giving up in a way because I try not to eat dairy or a ton of bagels. But it’s Friday, and I had a long week, and this is where I’m at.
I don’t usually write blog posts the morning I put them out, for the record (unless I’m really mad about something, which in that case I write too fast and too honestly).
This week was a difficult one and the truth is that when I found my way back to my desk it was too late.
Last Sunday, a guest pastor got up and spoke to us about rest. He used this quote to describe society’s (incorrect) view of equating busyness and productivity with value:
“We must constantly demonstrate our usefulness through frenetic doing.”
I am a frenetic doer. I suffer from a constant state of anxiety that I am never doing enough, and I would rather fill my time with almost any action at all just to be doing something rather than nothing.
It’s a graceless existence, this feeling of guilt and never being enough.
My counselor once asked me if I felt like I was enough, just as I am, this day. Sitting on her brown leather couch, I told her I had no idea what it would feel like to see myself as enough every day. There was always room to be more productive, more kind, more active or successful or a better Christian, whatever that means.
Maybe having grace for ourselves doesn’t just mean not beating ourselves up over cutting someone off in the parking lot or making a snide comment to a spouse.
Maybe having grace for ourselves looks like giving up on every blog post and getting a bagel instead.
So that’s where I’m headed, to Starbucks and more grace.