This semester has been a whirlwind full of classes with heavy workloads and extended hours spent at my two jobs. My classes have required more time and energy than I initially expected. For one class alone, I have found myself spending nearly an entire day of non-stop research and reading to finish one assignment. Let alone all the other assignments and tests for other classes. As with most semesters, I have my cute little planner filled with to-do lists and a notebook organized with notes for each of my classes. But purchasing a planner doesn’t include an antidote for feeling overwhelmed. Target doesn’t sell that.
Nobody sells that.
There was this one night early on in the semester I came home feeling so exhausted and hungry. Dinner was all I could think about. I threw open the fridge door and reached inside for something to cook. Usually, food wakes me up and gives me the energy I need to finish my last assignments. With some olive oil warming up in a pan, I chopped up the few random vegetables I found in my fridge. The smell of freshly cut bell pepper, sweet and light, mixed in with the earthy aroma of mushrooms. I tossed them into the pan. And every few minutes or so, I’d stir them. Then, right there. In the middle of my kitchen. Without warning, tears began to fall down my face. The sensation surprised me, almost as if the tears weren’t mine. I didn’t know what was happening. Why was I crying? But as I drew away from the stovetop for a brief moment to clean up my face, all of the thoughts caught up to me. Everything I had to get done. Assignments due at midnight. And nearly every night after. Hours of research outside of class. Designing a marketing campaign for an established non-profit. Setting up and tearing down recruitment tables. Attending weekly meetings. The pressure to do excellent work. Always. The fear of losing my 4.0. My future plans. All of it.
I felt like I was being robbed. School had far extended its boundaries, reaching into my life to rob me of peace. Somehow all of my work had crept its way into the comfortable parts of my mind reserved for quiet moments of rest and reflection.
Feeling overwhelmed is a merciless suffocation. And it was not benefitting my life. It was taking from me.
It took weeks for me to understand how to bring those thoughts to God because I had reasoned that in order to succeed I would have to allow those thoughts to drive me forward. Without feeling overwhelmed, how would I feel driven? Those thoughts weren’t bad anymore. They were normal parts of a chaotic and intense life of “doing.” Slowly, the Lord redefined work for me. I had to confess in complete vulnerability to God that I didn’t fully trust Him. That my overwhelming thoughts stemmed from a deep sense of worry over my future. If I don’t work hard now, I won’t get anywhere later. If I don’t isolate myself in order to complete my assignments and excel on my tests, then a stable job won’t ever be in the picture for me. It was those kinds of thoughts that pointed toward my distrust in the Lord. I believed the future depended on my control of the present. God quieted my restless mind, body, and soul. He began to speak my identity back into me.
You are loved.
You are known.
You are complete.
You are forgiven.
You are mine.
Though seemingly unrelated, my identity had been the root cause of my distrust. I had attached parts of my being, parts of my identity to my actions. I had declared myself good because of the excellent and driven work that I was producing. All of this was unnoticeable to me. Far deeper than I imagined. I mean, the tears that I had shed over my sautéing vegetables didn’t even feel like my own. I saw no reason to address what was going on. Feeling overwhelmed had become a normal reminder to try harder. Yet, that small incident was a reflection of my fractured trust in God. My body was so tired of bearing the weight of all my overwhelming thoughts.
be quiet, oh my soul let not the mind consume you swallow the worry it might burn as it goes down but i promise it won’t help to chew on it rid yourself of it see life without the madness blinding you oh my soul isn’t it freer here? where endless thoughts have ceased and breathing regains its normality
I used to think there was an art to being overwhelmed. That if I danced well enough with my overwhelming thoughts, if I simply embraced their coming and going, if I allowed them to move me, then I would be able to function in my life. In fact, without feeling overwhelmed, I didn’t think I would have enough motivation to do more and be more as a person. But God freed me from that. He detached my identity from my work and reminded me that I belong to Him and He makes me whole and complete. He is my source of motivation, and with Him, there is no lack of purpose or identity.
Comments