I’m in the final act of one huge identity crisis: a battle between my flesh and my spirit, my will and my mind. One minute I’m soaring with the freedom of the spirit, the next I’m tangled up, falling recklessly in choosing myself.
I’m convinced I’m not alone in this season.
Simply put, you become an adult, and it’s nothing like you imagined it to be. Your goals (still) aren’t accomplished; in fact, they’re changing entirely. You haven’t raised a family, yet you begin to parent your parents. You don’t care about being cool anymore because you realize you’re a human being, not a fad.
Ironically, my identity is less cemented in myself and my accomplishments than ever before; simultaneously, I'm more comfortable in my own skin.
The other morning, I was rushing to the store for milk or something; workout clothes, no makeup, hair a mess. I'm finally at a point where I'm not consumed in worrying about my appearance. Real life. Ah, what a concept.
Even so, something inside of me keeps telling me I crave more; pinching me, pushing me, nudging me to be more present in love.
I’m chasing dreams. But I’m not chasing them for dreams sake; I’m chasing them for the journey, the soaring, and handholding experience.
I've started noticing identity arrows; ones in-between miracles.
Some days I choose them robotically; other days it throws me into waves of grace; changing me and freeing me to do such things as overuse semicolon remarks in a blog post.
I’m finding my voice and relinquishing control to follow dreams. Some days it’s an excruciating tug-of-war that dips my soul in hell.
But this is truth: His plans are good. We aren’t meant to settle for a diluted version of the dreams given to us. And I will only live an amazing story when it’s not about myself.
None of us knows enough to worry.
I am reminded how small minded I am. My perspective of UL was so limited when I started laying groundwork. I did a lot of resisting and arguing with God, even though it was clear that this was the next chapter for me. The work wasn’t hard – putting myself out there, risking failure and judgement was hard. He gave me every single tool (including the name "Untamed Love") that I needed, though. I launched January 1, then avoided it like the plague -- This blog and vulnerability seemed like such a lame piece of identity. What I know now is that my perspective at the time was so limited; and still is. He gave me this platform THEN expanded it by giving me a passion for documenting untamed love with a camera. My faith is re-built (over and over).