Overdrawn, and the invitation to rest awhile…

PhotoCredit: Blake Sittler

“Overdrawn,” I thought, as I drove out of the city on the first day of vacation. “I feel like my whole life is overdrawn.” The metaphor has been slowly revealing its roots over three weeks away, gradually giving over the gifts that can come from wrestling with an uncomfortable thought. The disconcerting thing is that overdrawn is progress for me.

Our familyhas work, school, family and community commitments, just like other families. Whenwe look at each other, we see the surface of lives being lived. We see what canbe observed, what can be expressed, what has form. We cannot see how otherpeople’s lives feel. Two years ago, when my whole life was uprooted by loss, wewere broken by crisis. Overdrawn is a vast improvement, in contrast.

For so manyyears in my adult life, the idea that I was not in an ideal state barelyregistered in my awareness. It wasn’t safe to acknowledge that I needed tochange because discomfort triggered shame. My primary response to shame wasself-loathing and a destructive dose of beating myself up for not beingperfect. As such, I relied heavily on denial that protected me from myself.

I have discovered that trauma attaches itself to forgotten wounds and scar tissue. Healing is tracing its way through grief as well as older pain. Constantly doing more has been a coping mechanism for me, and overdrawn is just a variation on the same theme.

In earlyAugust, we spent a glorious week at family camp. Each afternoon, thecounsellors played with our children for an hour while the adults listened andtalked. On the first day, our speaker called the week a retreat andinvited us to “come away and rest awhile” (cf. Mark 6:31). I was thinking ofcamp as an activity, a fun way to make memories as a family, an excursion innature with meals provided, for the win. The idea of a retreat spoke to myoverdrawn heart.

Playing and visiting, snack time and campfire – these can be the stuff of retreat and rest. It looks different than days away in silence with a journal and spiritual director, but it was a retreat nonetheless – once my perspective shifted. I frequently practice resting where I am, and I am prone to forgetting. (Some lessons will take me a lifetime to learn.)

Restingawhile always shifts my perspective. From here, I remember that overdrawn isnot how I want to live, even while I see clearly and gratefully just how muchan improvement it is over shattered. I have always coped with stress by doing –more and better – in the hope of defeating life’s problems.

My sister’sdeath was a forceful crash into the reality that not all problems havesolutions. The trauma of her death settled on a well-established scar-line,tracing my lifelong and ill-advised affair with the perfect. Feeling overdrawnis such beautiful and messy growth for me, a recognition that I am neithercapable nor called to do all the things. If life is about loving rather thanachieving, then overdrawn is an invitation to love with more intention.

As summerheat is overtaken with a chill on the air and green leaves start to tingeyellow, the roots driving my choices are exposed. I want music, knitting, and unstructuredtime to be a bigger part of my life. I need movement, sleep, vegetables moreconsistently. For years I have been adding more: more kids, more commitments,more responsibility. It is time for a little less adding so I can love morefully where I am.

At thisstage, doing less is complicated. Bills and hungry kids will not pause for asabbatical. Rest looks like another attempt at a family chore chart, likeshutting off the TV to go to bed on time, and like eating for energy instead ofcomfort. I am relying on supports more readily, asking for help more often, andeven saying no.

In themiddle of my everyday life, I am choosing to say yes to resting awhile. I amfeeling the discomfort of being overdrawn and getting curious about whatactually must be done, and what can be surrendered.

Overdrawnfeels uncomfortable instead of addictive for maybe the first time in my life.Instead of criticizing how I have coped in the past, I am congratulating myselffor growing toward a better way.