What Do I Want?

It seems like the most basic of questions. But to me, it’s loaded. And it’s something I’ve been asking myself on repeat lately.

More like forcing myself to ask. Because the deeper I probe into the motives, rhythms, choices and beliefs that compel my actions, the harder it feels to reckon with the truth of what I’m finding.

The truth inside me.

The truth I’ve been denying. The truth I’ve been suppressing. The truth I’ve been ignoring. The truth of who I’ve become.

Someone who prioritizes a fleeting gratification over an abiding source of fulfillment and purpose. Who gravitates toward selfish, lustful appetites instead of compassionate service to others. Who withdraws behind the security of pretense but misses the beauty, intensity and ferocity of relationships. Who settles for this mediocre “half-life” while rejecting the invitation to come undone and come alive.

These truths are uncomfortable to admit. And downright scary to expose in writing. My hands will freeze over the “publish” button for a solid five minutes before posting this. I guarantee it. So what’s the point? Why bother disclosing the naked underbelly of my soul? Who needs to know? Who’s going to care?

Ahem…the answer is simple. need to know, and need to care. Not just facing the discomfort, but talking it out—that’s how accountability and honesty are learned. It’s the exact same concept as muscle memory during a workout. The more a behavior is perpetuated, the more it distorts into reflex. Second nature. Identity.

When it’s no longer a behavior but a dependence, I can’t skirt around the issue anymore. I have to recognize that a fractured spirit isn’t mended through silence and artifice—but through peeling off the withered husk, so newness can sprout from the rubble. I need a different form of muscle memory built on awkward, clumsy decisions that seem counterintuitive but lead to a strength I never imagined.

I need the sunlight to burst my heart into flames. And in that furnace, I need to finally breathe again.

So what do I want…?

The clarity is unmistakable. I want 2018 to be a year of freedom, healing and redemption. I want to start choosing life. And not just from the safe distance of words on a keyboard—although for me, that’s where all the best discoveries begin.

typewriter

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