I am unsettled. I want to be settled but I am not and I am unsettled and I do not even know how to stop. Four walls confine me and I want to see bigger pictures. I am too big for my space and too small for the world. I try to be calm and comfortable, but then something inside me weeps for more sky.
I feel like there is something inside me too big for my own frame. It wants to come out and explore the world; the bigger and better version of me. Maybe that doesn’t make sense to you. I think that’s okay. But that’s why I’m so unsettled listening to my own restless limbs.
I want to go and see and do. But I want to stay and find a place to fit all the same. It’s confusing, living in my own head.
Andrew told me that our marriage was designed to help us reach the true expectations we were meant to see, not the ones we place on ourselves to conform. We are learning to take on challenges in jobs and insecurities and the balance of being smart and just freaking living.
Expectations are a funny thing; they can confine us more than walls if we let them.
Tonight I felt suffocated. I wanted to run away to the bigger, better world than my own microcosm. And I still do. I want giant sunsets of pink and orange hues dipping over the ocean. I want my eyes to stretch and stretch over the expanse of beautiful mountain tops. I want greatness outside of myself. I want the cure for all the unsettlement.
I’ve just been waiting for open doors.
Looking for doors inside doors; looking for secret caverns or escapes from the doors that have opened wide and I’ve walked into. I walk into a room of good and growth and chances and new starts and I instantly am searching desperately, hard of breathe, searching for the nearest new door- the exit, the escapes.
I look for exit signs everywhere I go. And this is how I know that my biggest issue is trust. I don’t trust the Great, Great God who opens the doors in the first place. Because I’m too busy begging for the trap door that leads me to an escape- chutes and ladders- sliding quickly to something new.
Doors open. I walk through. Slowly, cautiously. Quick- eyes up- where oh where is the escape.
And here is one of those things you know when I can’t get out, when I have to stay- anxiety runs deep under my skin. Hence the doors, hence the escaping- under it all: fear.
Get locked in a room with your fear. No easy exits. Fear has a new name- to stay.
Is this the year of staying?
Is this the year of wrestling fear down to the ground and shaking it out of my skin?
But I’m not going to cure it all at once. I can sigh and breathe in deep of river and gray sky that I have. I look beside me and I have a great love that kisses my forehead in the midst of unsettlement and most importantly grounds me like tree roots to a world much sweet than I often recognize. And I am happy.
Closed doors don’t always mean “no”. They mean, “Hey girl, stay inside for a while and see what this room is all about before you run for fresh air”. Those door hinges will shake loose and the door will swing wide when it’s time to go. For now, sit down and stop looking for a way out- start letting the world find a way in. Let the unsettled dust hit the floor and see what beauty could be made then.