Careful: Fragile

When preparing for our move, I packed our most delicate items, ones that will break if I touch them the wrong way or breathe too close to them, in a safe (as possible) cardboard box labeled, “fragile.” Why? Because I want to take them with me to our new home & we paid too much money for those fine accessories. Items labeled as fragile clearly break easily. If one does not have time to pack the fragile items and label them properly, their odds of surviving are somewhat slim. But, we made the effort (thank you to my mother-in-law for the help) to preserve the delicate items so they could potentially withstand a lengthy, back road move with little to no damage. So we packed our belongings, carefully labeling every box, keeping the fragile ones on top and first to unload. On September 8th, 2o17, my husband, Clay, and I made our move to Virginia for his United States Marine Corps officer occupation. When we arrived, low & behold, not one thing broke.

Except one week later.

I did.

My personality & everything I was accustomed to shattered. I am an ESTJ personality. I thrive with tradition and order. I am strong-willed, direct, honest, an excellent organizer (more so on the side of cleanliness), and am good at having a secure and structured environment for my husband and myself. I thrive on detailed calendars & hour-by-hour schedules. I am inflexible, uncomfortable with unconventional situations, and find it hard to “let loose” or improvise from a well-thought-out plan.

I saw for the first time, where I would be living when I picked up our keys from the property office on September 8th. My GPS led the way, not my overly organized, planned and structured self. I walked into our home (& new life) not knowing where/how/if everything would fit. This may seem minuscule to many who are spontaneous & more carefree, but to me, this was nerve racking & meant I had to be flexible. ESTJ's are not flexible. My mind began to feel chaotic & knowing my husband would be leaving shortly, left me to wonder how to figure out flexibility on my own, and more importantly, how to deal with fear.

The Marine Corps lifestyle (or any military branch) does not always allow time for a heads up or a planning period. I am conditioned to needing a specific plan of action, a step-by-step rule book, or a “standard” way of going about my day. I have little to no practice of being spontaneous or going "wherever the wind takes me." Although we had time to prepare for what was physically ahead, I did not have time to learn what it would entail for me emotionally. To sleep alone in an empty house. To cook alone. To adjust to new street signs, highways, and grocery stores alone. To meet new people alone. All of which I felt more than capable of succeeding at, thanks to my independent spirit, but learned I am just as fragile as that glass packed in our UHAUL. All because...fear.

No one loves to see my mental & emotional chaos more than the devil himself. He marvels at watching me panic, become sad & anxious, and lose control over my usually stable emotions. He uses this opportunity to camp out & stay for as long as I will allow him.

The devil knows my name. He calls me by my sins, mistakes, insecurities, & fears. He rocks at what he does. His commitment, determination, and perseverance to steal my joy is quite admirable. If only I had his tenacity 24 hours of the day, 7 days of the week. While I listen to the devil who tells me all the little that is wrong, I am drowning out God who is telling me all that is right. I can forget that God also knows my name. He calls me by my name. That is all. His list is short, just like His memory of my sins, mistakes, insecurities, and fears. When I am not anchored in the goodness of God, I lower myself in to the agony of the devil. There is a small but still powerful whisper in my ear from the devil that says, “you are not strong enough to withstand the storm.” But, I AM the storm. My thoughts, emotions, and fears are the reason I cannot find my joy in every aspect of life. I allow the devil to camp out with me & fuel my fire of lies.

Guilt, shame, depression, anxiety, and fear get OLD.

A song that I recently discovered has the lyrics that say, "fear is just a liar running out of breath." These nine words hit me in all the feels harder than one could imagine. I always thought fear was real & would never quit. I never chose to see fear as a liar. I never imagined it could one day disappear. It was then that I made a choice. I consciously & deliberately chose to let fear go. Yes, just like that, I let fear go. Waiting for the right time, the right amount of courage, the right schedule, the perfect opportunity...it doesn't exist. And so, I just let it go.

I still see myself as, “careful-fragile.” Not fragile like glass anymore, but fragile like a bomb.

When my feet hit the floor every morning of every day, I make the devil anxious. I make him feel weak. I make him scared of my bomb that will destroy him & his plans for my day, for my week, for my year, for my life. All because I get to choose. My bomb is love, JOY, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Careful devil, I am fragile.