Cultivating Gentleness: Surrender
Perhaps we all start out as gentle little humans. Finding joy, contentment and peace in almost anything. As we get older, we become aware of the heartache life can bring. It happens to all of us: a tragedy occurs. Some of us handle it and move on, not without sadness but we’re okay. Some of us stay tense, worried and scared to relax, fearing the next bad thing that could happen. Then another tragedy happens. And we harden and tense a bit more. And another. Adding yet another layer of tension and rigidity to the mind and body. If you aren’t aware it’s happening, you eventually turn into a person-shaped piece of concrete. Heavy, dense, inflexible and easily broken.
For me, I got lost in the problems and tragedies of loved ones-taking responsibility for and trying to fix issues that weren’t mine to fix, seeking approval and people-pleasing. I stuffed feelings and consistently tried to be perfect so as not to rock the boat (a boat that often seemed to be in a storm) to the point I didn’t know how I felt until it was too late—and when the feelings did come, they came suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere and they landed hard. Leaving me confused and ashamed. Every time I would think to myself, “but you are the good one, you have it together, what is wrong with you?” Nothing was “wrong” with me. I think I was begging for the real me to be seen, heard, validated and told she was loved despite being completely flawed. Someone who was sad, heartbroken and sometimes even angry at seeing her loved ones suffer.
Another tragedy. And it was no longer someone else’s stormy boat I was riding in, it was mine. I slowly started to realize I needed help. Big Universe, God-hear-my-cries-help. I no longer had the stamina to keep trying (and failing) to be perfect, to win the love and approval of those around me, to take on responsibility that really never belonged to me. I began to understand the only person I needed to take responsibility for was me. The lost me that no longer had the energy to be “the good one”, the one that didn’t cause problems and as a result didn’t really know who she was. Instead of continuing on with the forced, tensed, perfection-focused, approval-seeking life I was trying to lead, I decided to seek gentleness
…surrendering meant not giving up but letting God do his job instead of me trying to do it for him.
To begin, I had to surrender. This was hard. So hard. Especially for someone who equated surrendering with giving up. It took me quite some time to understand that surrendering meant not giving up but letting God do his job instead of me trying to do it for him. I had to (and still have to) remind myself there is some force out there that is bigger and more powerful than me holding everything together, keeping this great world spinning, keeping us securely grounded on earth and the stars firmly planted in the heavens. Maybe that force could also hold me together.
Tragedies happen, but the spinning out of control was of my own doing. I had been relying so long on my misguided survival skills that I did not know how to stop without getting some help from The One who holds everything together. Surrendering remains hard for me-it means admitting I have no real control over much of anything except my thoughts and feelings and how I act as a result of them. And that can be a scary realization when you feel like an open wound. But surrendering even just a little miraculously lessens the pain of previous hurts because it takes the pressure off me to hold everything together.
Frequently it helps to say “let go” instead of using the word surrender. Letting go implies a type of action. I picture my hands loosening their grip on something-action. Surrender feels like inaction to me-lying down, waiting to be trampled. So I very slowly loosen my grip on the reins I place on myself and everyone and everything around me. It is scary to do when you aren’t used to it. But when I do loosen my grip it’s like a deep, conscious exhale and my body and mind actually begin to soften. Become gentler. I will grip the reins tight again. When I become aware of it, I let go, picturing my hands relax their grip on my life and the life of my loved ones, soften my jaw and exhale. Reminding myself God has carried me through 46 years and I am okay. Everything will be okay. I can let God do his job so I can start to relax and enjoy all the good things he has placed in my life.
♡,
Kristen
