I had to have a couple of conversations recently I wasn’t looking forward to. They had nothing to do with each other, but they had one thing in common: me disappointing someone.
See, I like saying “yes.” Yes, I can make this possible. Yes, I’ll help. Yes, I’m in. “Yes” is more fun than “no.” It’s more interesting. It’s more likeable. It lets me make people happy.
“No” is dull. Even “I’m not sure” is. And worse, it’s scary. I suppose, if I come down to the bare bones of it… I worry that if I disappoint someone, I might become unimportant. I might not matter if I’m not useful.
Sometimes “no” is necessary. I understand this… but grudgingly. I mean, who doesn’t want to throw themselves headfirst at every opportunity to be happy and excited? I want everything to fit.
But because I hate figuring out when I can’t just say an easy “yes” – because it’s both scary and frustrating – I think I handle the decision process badly. When I realize there’s a problem, I turn inside. I think and think and overthink. If my thoughts were a piece of paper, they’d be wrinkled and torn and crumpled.
I don’t think that tortuous process makes me make better decisions. Maybe it does, sometimes. But it’s exhausting. It hurts. Even if it does help, I don’t think it’s the best way.
Which is all to explain why this Instagram below made me cry. Because I forgot this. Again. I always forget this. And it’s the only thing that ever works: Giving it up.
Not giving up on your problem. Not giving away your problem. Not giving it to whoever’s convenient.
Admitting that I need help from the right place. Giving up hiding from how broken I am and just acknowledging it. Giving up thinking I can handle it and admitting I need help. Giving up overthinking and just doing what needs doing.
Much as I might pretend otherwise, I always know the right place I need to admit my brokenness. Deep down, I always do. There are two. First is God. Second is the person who matters most to that issue.
That’s why it’s so hard and scary. Because who wants to do THAT?
I’m not a hoarder of possessions. Entirely the opposite, actually. But I hoard my problems. I’m ashamed of them. And I really, really have to stop. My whole life, there’s only been one way to feel better… telling the truth. I don’t think I’m good at it. I’m often terrible at it. But I have a feeling that it’s the only way that works in the end.