"...most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of themselves, and can be secretive. But the INFJ is as genuinely warm as they are complex." (Portrait of an INFJ)
^ This is the story of 2013 for me. 2013 was a year of me being deliberate about relationship building, community involvement, and servant leadership. It was an expensive year for me in terms of personal/emotional energy spent. It was a year of bravery...looking back I shared more of what's going on inside my mind with friends this year than I have for a while. There is a part of me that is proud of me for some of the risks I took. But there is another, bigger part that is pulling me away. Telling me I need to withdraw. Telling me to protect myself. Reminding me that though I am braver for taking the risks, my emotional energy has been depleted, drained. Reminding me that I am still being depleted, drained by some lingering thoughts and feelings.
Thus, though I entered 2013 open and engaged relationally, I find myself exiting by closing my proverbial clamshell. I am shutting a piece of myself away in this season. I guess if anyone is wondering where that piece of E is you can tell them it's being reserved for events worthy of its energy expenditure. And though it seems contrary to what freedom is thought to be, closing the clamshell is just that for me in this season. This is the art of letting go for me: allowing myself to close the doors of my heart to things that I used to think were worth my emotional energy. Allowing myself to close physical doors and create a real barrier between my inner world and the outer reality. Allowing my energy to build up again so that sometime, in the future, I can shoot it out in another direction. This is a glorious, healing process for me.
This is also one of the reasons that I have not posted in a while. I wrote the above paragraphs at the end of December. Tomorrow it will be March 11.
Something very good has happened between then and now. Of course, there have been better days and worse days. That's just how life works. I had the chance to talk to several friends since who know how to make me feel better. And I do feel better. I feel like I have more perspective, too.
I do not think I have ever put this down on paper before, but I am realizing that I have an algorithm for divvying up my emotional/relational energy. Here is the order of priority:
(1) People who need my love most but may be incapable of returning love to me
(2) People who need my love and are capable of returning love to me
(3) People who do not need my love and are capable of returning love to me
(4) People who do not need my love and are incapable of returning love to me
It's a system that makes sense to me, generally speaking. In reality I guess it would be better expressed as a continuum, or graphed using 4 quadrants. Nevertheless, it reflects a piece of me that I am proud of: a heart for those on the fringe, the outsiders, the foreigners--the people that need healing and restoration before they can live and love again. In hindsight I feel like one of the reasons I felt drained entering the new year is that I spent a bit too much time on the #4 type people in my life. I feel stupid for it. I feel raw for admitting that I feel stupid about it. I feel stupid for not being able to see the truth because I just wanted to feel accepted. But the truth is the #4s do not care about me. They do not need my love and anything I have given them will not be returned. The truth is, I probably could have used some of that energy to do good in someone else's life or my own. But I just gave it away and hurt myself in the process. The truth is, I feel angry at myself. I feel a level of resentment for those #4s that took my energy and my love when they didn't need it and gave me nothing in return. The truth is that "I had wax wings and flew too close to you. Now I'm falling, remembering why I missed you."
"Suppose there is a well of fathomless trouble inside your heart, and Jesus comes and says--"Let not your heart be troubled"; and you shrug your shoulders and say, "But Lord, the well is deep; You cannot draw up quietness and comfort out of it." No, he will bring them down from above. Jesus does not bring anything up from the wells of human nature. We limit the Holy One by remembering what we have allowed Him to do for us in the past, and by saying, "Of course I cannot expect God to do this thing." When we get into difficult circumstances, we impoverish His ministry by saying--"Of course He cannot do anything," and we struggle down to the deeps and try to get the water for ourselves. Beware the satisfaction of sinking back and saying--"It can't be done"; you know it can be done if you look to Jesus. The well of your incompleteness is deep, but make the effort and look away to Him." (O. Chambers)
I have been guilty of believing the well in my own heart was much too deep to draw life-giving waters out of. Of course this is complete fallacy for we are not filled from the earth below our feet but from the grace of God above. I leak and he fills me up though I am undeserving. Amazing.
On another note, I went to a mindfulness and meditation session a while ago and wanted to share with you something interesting that happened there. Meditation is something I have been skeptical of in the past because it seems "airy fairy" or something like that. Something for strong feelers rather than over-analyzers. But I actually had an incredible experience in meditation. I was sitting there, eyes closed, following the directions of the teacher. We moved into a time of specialized, focused breathing. "Pay attention to your breath," she said. "Where is it rising? Where is it falling? What does it feel like?"
I've been breathing my whole life but there haven't been many times where I have considered what it feels like to take a breath. Breathing is a really amazing process, especially if you know some of the physiology behind it. Eyes still closed, I felt my breath linger on my top lip, dance around my philtrum, and flow into my nostrils. It felt warm and comforting--something I didn't think breath was capable of making me feel. "What is your breath telling you?" she asked. In that moment I heard a whisper inside of me say, "As close as this breath is to you, as far into you as it reaches, I will be closer to you still. I will reach farther into you and give you life." My eyes are still closed but they filled with tears. I am overwhelmed with emotion and sitting on a yoga mat. This is not a moment I will let go of anytime soon.
So--it's been a long time since the last post. But I am okay, and I am going to be okay. You will be too.
Love,
E.
