Defy

One thing I realized lately was this lie I'd let myself believe.  The key to defeating a lie is recognizing for what it is, whether you understand the root of it or not.  Just call it a lie.  Call it by its name. 

I woke up the other morning in an apartment.  The second floor apartment with mismatched couches and non-white, colorless walls.  And I realized I had led myself to believe it had to be this way.  To be "content" because things couldn't get better. 

Now.  I suppose there's something to be said about being "content whatever the circumstances", or whatever Apostle Paul said.  I don't like Paul particularly, and if he were here, I'd tell him so.  (He'd probably say, you know, Anna, I don't particularly like you either)  But I bet every once in a while he woke up and did not like his surroundings either.

Small efforts can quickly add up to small changes. 

And small changes, if they're just right, can build into large changes.  As scary as change can be, sometimes that's exactly what you need.  Increments of change, small goals toward the accomplishment of the big goal.

I said it, really just wanting to get off the other topic.  But I control the conversation.  We don't talk about what I don't want to talk about.  But this morning, I wanted her to express that what seemed to be wrong, wasn't really it.  What's wrong is: I have compartmentalized my life.  And each compartment has effectively bled into the other.  I cannot find the end of the knotted string, but the mess is driving me insane.  There is guilt, with no source.  And a sense of un-accomplishment, deriving from a deep-seeded lie about contentment.  A hectic pace, leading to a lack of time, resulting in a damaged self esteem and deflated hope and fizzled creativity.

I'm trying to sort multi-colored marbles.  And I haven't pulled one out, because there are equal amounts of all four colors, and I don't know what to start with.  Seemingly simple.  Trivial.  But a decision to get started, and I can't get started until the decision is made. 

I started, without realizing it, a few weeks ago when I organized Judah's room.  And when I sold my clothes at the consignment store. 

Every time I hang a picture, I make progress. 

I defy the lie.

Every time I take the time to hang my clothes. 

Every time I make a meal.

Every time I enjoy a whole cup of coffee.

Every time I learn something new.

The lie is defied.

So we talked about a pyramid.  Basic concrete goals, as the foundation.  Building, as I make the next right moves, the next best decisions, until I am able to obtain the more abstract, seemingly unattainable ones.  The top.  When it starts all over again. 

We talked about grad school, and the lie that higher education is not an option for me.  We talked about buying house, and how that may not be quite as scary as some people pretend it is.  Except.  It scares me for different reasons.

And I told her about the couch. 

About the desperate need for something to be proud of -- something tangible.  About how you walk into my second story apartment now and there is a homemade entertainment center my granddaddy made.  And two, brown leather couches that match.  There are new frames on the wall. A new spice rack in the kitchen.

None of which cost me much at all.  Little red clearance stickers.  Stuff pulled from forgotten boxes.  Secondhand, made beautiful, unique.  And the lie is defied. 

It's the simple things, really.  Actively defying the lie that things will not get better than this.  To settle into a state of contentment, so deep I don't strive.  Settling for how things are.  Instead of making room for growth, allowing for change, changing your position so you can change your perspective.

I'm hoping this train of thought trickles down into another area of my life.  But I'm not ready to follow it there yet.