I’ve been sitting with the word surrender as my word of the year. 2021 was focus. 2022 was commitment. I was dang sure 2023 was going to be passion. I was so ready to barge into 2023 on fire and light everything up.
But it wasn’t right.
I’ll be honest, I don’t spend a lot of time in silence these days. In fact, you could say I’m scared of it. I’d much rather follow my head than my heart, but that wasn’t serving me. So, I decided to do the scariest thing and spent an hour in a salt water sensory deprivation tank. I had no choice but to listen to my heart. It was all I could hear.
Without being too woo-woo, my heart had a lot to say about forgiveness. Specifically, I felt like I’d failed at commitment in 2022. That fire I wanted to light in 2023? Turns out it was burning behind me, but it was more like a dumpster fire than a rocket launch – and one that had been burning a long time. Commitment? When was the last time you saw me blogging? I all but dropped my business. I stopped writing (again). To be honest, I’m not sure when or in what order I’m going to pick those up. This is a step, but I’m not sure what the next step will be. I know I won’t find it forcing my way forward – like a bull in a china shop as my dad would say. But how do I let go of those reins? And what do I pick up instead?
There’s a lot to be said about vision and direction. I’ve done a lot of work on those things in the last couple years, but everything was starting to feel so forced. Like I was checking boxes instead of finding joy in each moment. What if I let go of my own expectations, and just feel my way through? That’s surrender to me, and it feels right. It’s not surrendering as in giving up. It’s surrendering as in letting go. Flowing. Trusting.
It’s risky. While I’m not a great planner, I do like to maintain some semblance of control and order in my life. Definable goals. Steps to get there. A calendar, even. A budget. But the truth is I’ve had all those things the last few years. Planners. Bullet journals. Goals. Steps. It’s a game I play every year. What if this year, I don’t play that game? What would surrender look like?
You’re looking at it. I quit this blog because people told me it’s too much. I’m too much. Undoubtably sometimes I am. But tonight, my heart had things to say. I’ve always thought this blog served a purpose. Maybe it’s time to follow that through, despite what people say. Despite my fears. Maybe it’s time to trust my instincts and just flipping write.
That’s what surrender looks like right now, at this moment, and I’ll tell you it feels a lot better than pushing myself to reach goals my heart might not even want to pursue. Surrendering is going to be a fight. It’s going to be a slog. I’m going to want to push back, with purpose and with fear. With objectivity. With logic. Emotion, even, sometimes. It’s not easy to let go of control, but I believe there’s something important on the other side of that. Me. My true self.
I don’t have time to sit in that float tank every day, but I’m getting better at finding little moments to tune into my heart and redirect myself in big ways and in small. What that will look like? I don’t know, but I’m willing to feel my way through and find out. Cheers to 2023!
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Kudos on your new way forward Amy. It sounds like a good balance or way to focus on what really matters and brings you joy. I need a re-tuning in how I live and write too.
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