Enough.

I love when clarity drops into my lap as an unexpected gift, the voice of my Savior reminding me that it's all going to be okay. 

I haven’t had many of those moments lately. The dysfunction has felt heavy, like I’m sorting through dirty clothes, smelling piece by piece, determining what needs to be dealt with and what can wait a little longer. But last night I was sifting through a particularly smelly bunch and something happened. All that I’ve been learning about myself, about shame, about unhealthy mindsets came into focus and I had an epiphany. A moment of clarity. It was really beautiful and timely.

For me, this all began months ago while learning the Enneagram, this sorting of myself: the good, the bad, and the ugly. For one, as a neutral observation, I received validation that it’s normal for “people like me”- the 9- to have an ongoing conversation in my head, with myself. Talk about clarity...You mean this isn’t insanity?

No. It’s called ruminating and seems comparable to a cow chewing its cud. Dirty laundry - Cud, it’s always turning circles in my head. I also have an inner-critic, like most people, but to a greater extent with that strong 1 wing. It tells me that I’m one step away from losing everything, disappointing everyone. Yes, going insane. I have to daily retreat into the space of reality and love. These skills are both learned and chosen, they are the key to progress.

Out of this struggle, I began to devour Brene Brown books- about shame, imperfection, fear, all in contrast with whole-hearted living. It became glaringly obvious that I was not living from all of my heart, which caused me to do an even deeper dive into the Enneagram and personal growth.

Why am I stuck?

Why don’t I laugh?

Why don’t I dance?

Why am I choosy with my love?

I made a conscious effort to laugh more (and if you follow my facebook, you know the Weird Secondhand Finds group has been integral). I made a playlist of my favorite music, songs that make me feel like myself. I started singing them loud, teaching them to my kids...and yes, dancing.

But choosing to love and be loved has come a bit more slowly. I was standing in church last month, looking around and having an internal dialogue with myself, “I let this person love me, but not that person. I let this person love me, but not that person.” In the end, in a room full of more than a hundred people, there were only 2-3 people I had let close to me. I then tried to settle the blow by thinking, “Well, I don’t even know all these people.” To confirm this claim, I made another list, this time of all the people I trusted, the people I allowed to love me. And still, despite the fact I’d opened myself up to consider my entire circle, I only had about ten people on my list. As if God wanted to nudge me with His cosmic elbow, that very day the enneagram wisdom for 9’s was this:

At first I denied it, like a very good 9. “I am the most loving person there is!” But gradually I realized that just wasn’t true. I realized, instead, yet again, that I am very choosy with love. Very choosy with time. Very choosy with trust. And people very choosy with these things can come across as cold and detached. I don’t want to be that person.

I want to live whole-hearted.

In the pursuit, I finished another Brene Brown book. I listened to about ten podcasts on my Enneagram type. I started going out more, making plans. Becoming aware, present. Big growth, there!

Yesterday, however, I did not feel very grown up. I felt very small and detached. I was productive around the house. Heck, I was dressed before 8:00am! Yet, I had this nagging thought throughout the day that I wanted Paul to become desperately in love with me. It followed me around more persistently than my toddler, whispering in my ear, What if Paul was so obsessed with you, he’d never even look at another woman? It seemed perfectly logical to want Paul to love me more. As the evening progressed, instead of winding down, I powdered my face with makeup and combed my eyelashes. I painted on the mascara and lipstick. I chose a gown that was much too small for me at this stage in pregnancy, to which I apologized to Paul, "I'm sorry I'm fat and pale." And he replied, like a good husband, "Honey...you aren't fat." [When I was young, my nickname was "Snow White"]

He was not a fan of my plan to pursue him, to prove to him that I was worth loving, worth staying. He wanted to know why. 

I rolled onto my back and started the dirty laundry sorting process, and there it was. Earlier in the day, while innocently listening to one of my "authentically me" songs I had the thought, “I wish I could sing this song. I wish I could play it on my guitar. I wish I could play it for _______, and they’d think I was so cool and hip, and then they’d like me.” It was all subconscious, playing in the back of my mind: "I should buy this person a gift. I should make them dinner. I should write them right now and tell them a compliment."

It sounds like something a middle-school student would think, and yet, here I was. 

Thirty-two years old, trying to win someone over.

"Why do you care if this person likes you?" Paul asked. 

It was a valid question and I wasn't sure right off. As I lay there digging deeper and deeper, the truth revealed itself: I trusted them...and Holy crap, that's scary. I started to cry, "I think I'm going to let them love me." 

I looked over at Paul and realized why I'd been so relentless to pursue him. I trust him more than anyone else in the world...and that's a gift. It's a risk. 

Love and trust are vulnerability in its rawest form. Once I realized this, I got really excited...because I'm getting it. I'm letting myself become vulnerable so that all the insecurities float to the surface and I can name them:

Am I enough?

Cool enough?

Smart enough?

Pretty enough?

Social enough?

Emotionally healthy enough? 

I sit in this muck, this cud, and tell myself the truth. 

Worthiness is not determined by any action or stature or knowledge. It's determined by love- and I am loved, and I do belong. 

Yes, the stepping out is vulnerable. If I could remove every ounce of discomfort from my life, I would. Trust me, I'm an E9. Avoidance is what I do best, it's my first language. But it's exhausting to block love, it really is. It's isolating. It's not God's intention. Self-protection and facades are to building authentic community like sand is to the foundation of a house. 

Ah...but vulnerability within a relationship built on trust and love, it's the key to intimacy. It's the rock that steadies us. It's a journey worth taking, to overcome the shame and fear attached to vulnerability and allow ourselves to be fully loved. It's not what we do, but who we are: worthy. When we can begin to see ourselves as imperfect, but still worthy and good, this is when all the grace flows in. 

You are enough, and so am I.