grace and dissatisfaction

I woke up Sunday morning with a horrible weight on my body and my mind. And it took me several hours, a bottle of Gatorade, a good dose of fresh air, Jenni’s unearned compassion, and a revelation before I felt any relief.

I hate dissatisfaction. It’s the emotion I experience most often and I abhor it. Usually, it’s teamed with regret or guilt. To my credit (trying to give myself grace, here), there are occasions where I did nothing to cause the dissatisfaction. However (still being gracious -but also honest), in my experience, I have actually been guilty (of something or the other, most often: incidents that involve whisky and gentlemen of questionable character) roughly 65% of the time, which only compounds the feeling, which is best described by the retching noise I make when I talk about it, best communicated if you make a face like you’re eating a lemon.

I was extremely dissatisfied yesterday morning. It was making my heart ache and my head throb and my stomach nauseous. And I said to myself: When are you ever going to learn? You are hopeless.

The counter-arguments to both of those accusations was what helped me start feeling better. There was a moment that coincided with my third return to 4378 Talman Street when I realized, there’s something to learn from last night. It was an answer to my vicious self-questioning. I’d spoken condescendingly to myself, When am I ever going to learn? I put my hands on my hips and stared indignantly back at myself, and answered, I’m learning right now.

The grace inside me is what stands up, contrarious hands on the hips, to defend myself. This is the battle. This is where I am right now. I’m a work in progress. Even though I was pretty sure before going into last night that I shouldn’t have done (basically) everything I did, I am able to add a few more specifics to the how and why of my understanding of my relationship with my culture. I’m learning.

I want her to be stronger (the grace). The ugly voices are so loud and serve only to stifle my exploration of what it means to live thoughtfully. They make me want to live a checklist instead of a story. She helps me see my own growth in the midst of horrible decisions – composting my rubbish to benefit my future harvest, as it were.

I especially need her strength when I’m dissatisfied. As I mentioned, there’s a good 35% of the time that my uneasiness isn’t the result of anything I did. Whether the feeling has a direct precursor or not, it’s always a signal that growth is en route. I’m so quick to blame myself and say that I’m unhappy in this moment because of what happened in the previous moment. The hope comes here: I’m learning to welcome the feeling. I need grace to help me look at dissatisfaction for what it is: the gateway to wrestling with the overbearing “should”s in my life and sifting out the reality. It’s helping me understand my existence with guidelines, instead of a checklist.