The Path of Ease

When I find myself in a really difficult season, my frustration often gets me to the point where I’m thinking, “It shouldn’t be this effing hard!” It’s a place of feeling stuck, overwhelmed, and powerless. I am tempted to blame whatever and whoever I can find to explain the problem. I think this is such a human thing—wanting to find a reason outside of us to explain things.

There’s a part of me that knows on some level, either consciously or subconsciously, that I got myself here. That I made choices—albeit unintentional decisions—to take the hard path. There’s almost a kind of addiction to doing things the hard way. Especially when trauma is part of the equation. When hard is all you’ve known, you think it’s all you deserve. And so you keep choosing hard because to choose easy, or easier, feels selfish or lazy or some other asinine reason. Like there’s some kind of reward for doing it the hard way and proving our grit.  News flash: there isn't. 

I’ve decided to start taking the path of least resistance and making things easier on myself. And I’ve also decided to stop feeling guilt about doing this. For trauma survivors especially, I think this is how we find balance. It’s not about taking the easy way out or avoiding work. It’s about not having to prove our worth by showing how much we can suffer. We don’t have to earn our space. We already belong. And the sooner we start living life believing this, the sooner we start making choices that align with an easier way.

Yes, there are still going to be some lingering consequences to sort out, but we don’t have to keep making life any harder on ourselves than it already is. I’m going to make this my challenge and maybe even make a game of it. I’m sick of feeling overwhelmed, but yet at the same time, like I’m never doing enough.

I’m not losing my work ethic or my drive for results. What I’m losing is the compulsion to equate “doing hard things” with my value. I’m going to start looking for the grace and ease that I know is available. And I’m going to rest in it. And let the rest sort itself out.

Yours on the Journey,

Eva

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Hidden Wounds of Sexual Abuse

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The Questions That Shape Us