grace – Ginger Simpson White

I often think it would be nice to be the kind of writer who could write any day, every day, no matter what was going on with life or emotions.

But I’m not.

Although I’m able to paint every day, even if life is in turmoil and the anxiety is high, I can’t do that with writing. I think it’s because, for me, writing involves some part of my mind and brain and attention that’s hard for me to access if I’m not feeling a certain amount of being settled inside myself. I don’t have to feel completely calm and settled to write, but there has to be a certain level of it that simply isn’t there when the anxiety is super high.

This definitely gets in the way of writing routines and rhythms. And it can mean writing in starts-and-stops. It can even feel as though I’m taking one step forward and two steps back.

And I have to admit that it’s discouraging. But it’s something that has been true for me throughout my decades of writing.

Even though this has consistently been the case for me, though, time and again I re-visit this issue and examine it and ask myself certain questions.

Should I push myself more? Should I force myself to be more discipled? Should I find some coping technique, even if it’s unhealthy, that numbs my feelings (whether anxiety or grief) enough that I can hear the characters and stories that want to be told through my writing?

None of those feel right for me. When the anxiety is so bad, pushing through it or pushing it aside seem impossible. And ever since the end of my long slow xanax taper, I have no desire to risk more anti-anxiety meds or even alcohol to numb. Whatever calming techniques I use or try need to be things that won’t mess with my brain and central nervous more than they’ve already been messed with (and harmed by) prescription medication.

So I keep coming back to giving myself grace. Or trying to, at least.

Giving myself grace and space and time to grieve the losses in my life. Giving myself grace and forgiveness for not meeting some self-imposed ideal of what my writing or productivity should look like. And giving myself grace and permission to honor my personal rhythms… whether that’s with my writing, or dealing with life in general, or going through a day.

And giving myself grace to do it all imperfectly.

How about you? Do you need to give yourself more grace? Do you need to do more honoring of your needs and your feelings and your rhythms?

If so, I hope you’ll do just that.

♥

My art journaling page from early 2020 for my word-of-the-year – grace.

My 2020 word-of-the year is grace.

Since 2012, I’ve had a guiding word for each year, a word that sort of “comes” to me, not something I choose logically or analytically. My words have included nourish, clarity, integration, replenish, sovereign, joy… and in 2017 instead of a single word, I was given a phrase-for-the-year of “embrace grace.” Then the next year, 2018, I was guided to keep on with that same phrase.

Two years in a row of embrace grace – a phrase that continues to be hugely important in my life.

So sometime in November, when I started sensing that grace was to be my guiding word for 2020, I hesitated at first. Shouldn’t I have a different word, something new I hadn’t had before as part of my word-of-the-year journeys?

But the prompting for this word stayed and strengthened, and I stopped resisting.

Grace it is.

Already, less than a week into this new year, I’m being challenged by this word. Hard, difficult stuff is already coming up for me and my husband, and I’ve been struggling to approach it all with grace.

At the same time, though, I’m finding strength because of grace. Grace is helping me through, moment by moment.

That’s how these words-of-the-year seem to go for me (and for many others I know). They present the positive aspects of the word, as well as the challenging bits. Almost as though the word is saying: You really want me in your life, you really want to KNOW me and experience me this year? Well, here you go, I’ll SHOW you life with me, the light and the dark of me, I’ll help you learn every side of me, so hold on for the ride!

So – grace.

Again. And still.