Keeping on

We are of God, made of different pieces that construct the beautiful unique puzzle of each of us. We are each magnificent. We are each a gift.

In uncertainty we can lose that truth. We can drop pieces of the puzzle and fumble with where they belong. Even the most gifted solver can be rendered completely confused when it comes to one’s own wonderful, peculiar and perfect, yet disorganized, pieces.

It is me. I am the sometime too deep thinker of thoughts and feeler of feelings. I sometimes say too much and with an intensity that can overshadow what is meant to be genuine openness, to be real and to learn with someone and to not be restricted by the expectation of soft disguise.

This wordiness and feelingness can overwhelm.

I sink myself.

Anxiety/panic/depression, separate, yet overlapping, difficult to hewn out as one or the other at times. The feeling. A deep dark beastly ache that muffles vision and attacks hope with an angry punch. When you have been through that, you avoid it passionately, you dread it, try to live to keep it at bay. Sleep and eat right, I must, you think. Exercise. Think carefully.

But. This me contributes to the piece that has led me to physically feel hurt for others, to appreciate small beauty in nature, to recognize the hurting places in others, to seek to help heal where I may and pray with fervor.

This me has been blessed with gratitude and with amazing opportunities when the path was unclear, and those who understand the way both joy and sadness are profound to me.

Yes, it is me. With the me that is faithful, the me that is a mother, daughter, sister, friend, lover, athlete, silly and serious, committed team member, leader, volunteer, nurturer of people and pets, stubborn, hopeful, hard worker. It is me.

I can calm and speak before a crowd with focus. I can put people at ease with my gentle humor and kind demeanor. I can socialize with new people and take on challenges both cautiously and confidently.

I appreciate silence.

Dishonesty wounds me deeply.

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The people who have appreciated and embraced the entirety of me have celebrated life with me, have enjoyed my capacity to empathize and sow hope. My desire to listen and share comfort. They have enjoyed my propensity for laughter when the moment is right, my full and real hugs of concern. They have sought my advice. They have shared their heartaches. They have known the depth of me that includes an ache that sometimes may comes when I feel I have failed by sharing.

Some have not understood.

I feel badly for the often preference for quiet, my deck over a party, even a small one. To have peace and rest. It has left some friendships confused at times.

When the pit comes, it sits at the desk with me while I work, weighing heavy in my concentration. It mows the lawn with me, on my back. It parents with me and pushes against me while I try to sleep. It is exhausting.

Does my willingness to admit to weakness make me naive?

When I can, I run, I bike, I hold onto something that allows me to move forward, to let go. I carry intentions with me, tied around my ankle, declaring future forward.

I am the “over-thinker,” with the gains and losses that come with that. I will continue to stop to admire the shadow of a broken leave on the mud, the breeze against a weed, the wisps of clouds in dancing shapes. I will sort through the questions of intentions, the uncertainties and purposes of paths. I will wake up at 3am and scribble down words that push into my head with an insistence, whether creativity or escape. I will stop and watch the deer out the window, the farms’ crops rise and fall, the angles and lights on city buildings, and hear the hum.

I am that person. Deb. Debbie. Deborah Jean. Sensitive or strong or both. Teetering on the uneasiness of too much transparency, not for pity, but for a longing to be real. For the broken, struggling me to be seen in the black and white image of me on the first place podium. It was a medal I was given there, not an identity. I want the compliments on my resilience to not be misplaced. I want my failures and shortcomings, my not good choices, my fragility and confusion to be collaged with the pictures and quotes that seem to show only victory.

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