A Journey to Gratitude - Journaling Prompts

Another day, another prompt

Welcome back! I hope you've brought your reading glasses and your open hearts, per usual. I love that writing and reading can connect us as humans. My experience is unique to me, but somehow in sharing it, perhaps others can notice pieces of their own humanity and story within mine (and vice versa, please share your stories with me!). I absolutely adored writing some of my process with Melissa's journaling prompts in my last post (if you haven't read it, feel free to check it out before or after this). The first journaling prompt focused on the art and practice (yes, practice... consistent, sometimes incremental, process) of letting go. Over the years, I've learned so much about the power of calling something by name, out loud, no apologies. It's the very first step toward change, at least intentional change. Change, of course, happens without us knowing it and without us planning it, but intentional change doesn't happen that often, and it's one of the more valuable things we foster in our own lives: growing on purpose. The "life is a garden and you are a tree" metaphor works here, but that's a post for another day!

As a reminder, you can access the journaling prompts for yourself at Melissa's website here - https://www.melissamoffet.com

Let's dive in! Here's the second prompt:

What are your gifts? What are your little victories? What are the lessons you've learned from mistakes? 

Alrighty.... another HUGE life defining question here, LOVE IT (also kinda resist it, lol). Do you ever get that way? Like, the things you know are the best for you somehow touch on something in your that feels like resistance? Or fear? *raises hand* This is one of those for me. I think it mainly has to do with the "lessons I've learned from mistakes part. I'm not gonna lie, I've suffered a lot. No, my life hasn't been traumatic, I haven't been severely persecuted or bullied. I realize I've lived a very comfortable life, and I've had a lot of kindness showed to me. At the same time, I've found that deep and unrelenting pain in my life has showed itself true, to guide me toward the sensitive heart I tried to cover up as a child. I've always been a sensitive person, but growing up I displayed my personality as "the rock" much more often than "the heart." Sure, perhaps kindness could have brought this out of me, but I've found suffering drew it out by the roots, and I've never looked back (ok, that's a lie... I often wonder how I was so emotionally numb as a little girl... I don't get it, haha).

Point being, suffering hurts. Sure, it has benefits and lessons, but it's painful, it's personal, it's sometimes mysterious and enigmatic, it's like the smoke you can't quite grasp or escape, the kind that invades the air all around you, you feel like you can't breathe.

I've been encouraged by a lot of well-meaning people to "find the lesson" in my suffering, and it tends to bring out resistance in me, like, "sure, I can point to lessons, but were they worth it?" I'd find myself comparing the "lesson learned" to the "cost of suffering." Sure, I learned a lesson, but at what cost? This comparison, I'd like to suggest, entirely misses the point of recalling suffering and identifying lessons learned. As it turns out, everything in life is a teacher. It's a push and pull. It's the ocean tide, the stages of the moon, the yin and yang. Life's good times inevitably lead you into life's rough patches, which faithfully lead you back into life's good times again. They work together rather than compete against each other. In other words, "learning my lesson" is not the point of suffering, nor the point of failing. Failing is the point of failing. Suffering is the point of suffering. It is, in an of itself, whole, needing nothing added and certainly nothing taken away from it. It requires both validation (fully feeling and acknowledging the pain) and veracity (refusing to add our perception, fears, past experiences, or society's expectations onto the suffering... allow the event we suffered to be JUST the event we suffered, not all the stuff we add to it).

Wait, did you even answer the question yet?

No, not yet, getting there, haha.

When I think about my gifts, I feel a swirling sense of gratitude. Not the kind that makes me want to brag, but the kind that makes me want to give a name to the things I like to do. Perhaps, in naming my gifts, I'm more equipped to give them away. Isn't that the point of having a gift, anyway? Not to boast in it, or build it for my sole enjoyment, but to share it? Don't get me wrong here, I do believe there's a limit to generosity (i.e., please don't give away your values or your boundaries just because people ask, or because you think setting a limit will come across as selfish, etc). I was literally just talking with my friends yesterday, asking them if I've become "too accommodating" lately. I've noticed my intention of "compassion" and "generosity" (to give away my gifts) was turning into less of an act in giving, and more an act of apologizing. Instead of sharing myself, I was shrinking myself.

My gifts tend to lie in the areas of creativity and expression - writing, drawing, metaphor, deep conversation, silly dancing, creating music, yoga. I've been told by some that I have the gift of wisdom, and by others I come across as welcoming, hospitable, and authentic (of course, there are always nay-sayers who point out the complete opposite, so it can be difficult to identify a gift if your basing it solely on the feedback you get from others). It's important to make sure YOU believe in your gifts. Your gifts should not be a "word bank" developed by your community. Yes, people can give us great feedback and guidance on our strengths and gifts, but like I said, there are always nay-sayers, and if anyone can add to your word bank freely, you'll quickly get a collection of mixed messages. Humans are mixed bags, for sure, but your gifts are YOURS to discover, to cultivate, and to create.

I also hope I have the gift of seeing the potential in people. I've always been super gullible, but this "annoying" trait also means I can't help but believe people are telling me the truth. I believe that people all have the propensity for good. I don't give up on people.

YOU DID THE THING!

Identifying the victories I've had makes me proud. As the "over accommodator" syndrome manifested in my life these last several months (years?) it's only natural it would diminish my ability to identify victories and triumphs. After all, if you're trying to shrink, why would you draw attention to yourself? I can now say with assurance and gratitude that I have, in fact, triumphed in both significant and tiny (yet treasured) ways in my life. I've held myself in grace and self-compassion, I've set a boundary and told someone "no" even when it meant walking away from something incredibly dear to me (that's in my "processing all the feels" blog post in case you wanna read more about that). I've been able to hold space for other people because I've let go of analyzing and controlling my thoughts and my self-critic (that voice in your head like a radio playing constantly in the background of interactions). I've been able to meet new people, join new community groups, start new activities, and resurrect previously disregarded dreams as I've acknowledged my disappointment and resentment. I've served and reconnected to my church and my faith in ways that reinvigorate my soul and my purpose and my joy. I've found the remnants of hope I'd buried deep, and I'm watching them become seeds for new hopes on the horizon.

Hope for the Flowers

As far as the lessons I've learned from mistakes, I have a few blog posts about that (in the Lessons, verse x series). I remember in college I learned about the concept of the koru, the layered fern that spiraled into itself like a conk shell. Basically, it was the same plant, but in tighter and tighter curls toward the core / center. I think lessons are like that: layers and layers of the same thing, slightly different, as it gets to the core / root of the thing life's teaching you. For me, it's a lot about embracing both the beautiful and the ordinary. It's a lot about "not forcing it." It's a lot about trusting in something greater than myself (for me, that's Jesus). It's a lot about being playful and not taking myself so seriously. It's a lot about committing to ask, but refusing to coerce. It's a lot about self-compassion over self-discipline, and self-care over self-condemnation.

It's always an ebb and flow between experiencing and expounding. Sometimes, the lesson is embedded in the experience itself and doesn't need to be excavated. Other times, the lesson is a treasure planted somewhere in the circumstance, and it glimmers in the light you shine as you commit to looking at the mistake head on. I can't actually tell you how to tell the difference between them, or how to heal, or how to grow. It's a personal journey. There's this children's book called "Hope for the Flowers" that I LOVE. It talks about how caterpillars have this instinct inside them, they know they are meant to be high in the sky, but some of them lose their way and don't know how to accomplish this. It's the story of caterpillars that "trample" each other and climb on each other to get as high as they can on these "caterpillar pillars." It's only one brave caterpillar (her name is Yellow) that decides to take a break from the clamoring to listen to her inner wisdom. She allows it to lead her and ends up building a cocoon, alienating her from her friends and loved ones, but ultimately guiding her to her true self: a butterfly. She then makes it her mission to enlighten the other caterpillars to find their true identities. It's a beautiful book, and suffice to say, I think that's our journey, too.

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