This is an edited journal entry from early April, late March documenting how I was feeling after a long, demanding, and stressful winter, mostly as a result of changes at my job as a federal employee.
Well, I'm not at the bottom of it either. But perhaps what I'm experiencing is the reality that I am not immune to the stressors of this world, no matter how much I want to be. I strive to be so resilient, not letting anything break my stride, but the reality is that that's not feasible, sustainable, or healthy.
I'm trying to practice grace these days. Trying my best each day, but recognizing that my best is different than it used to be. I'll admit that I've been feeling a little guilt there. I sometimes feel frustrated that my 100% in Q1 2025 wasn’t nearly what my 100% was this time last year or the year before. But my prayer is that the overachieving part of me that's rejecting the reality of this season is hushed and gently put to rest. Because the reality is that just because my stride changes doesn't mean it's broken.
So much has gone on in my life in the last several months and, I'll admit, I've been off my game. Things I usually excel at, I'm doing just fine in. Things I usually do just fine in, I'm slacking considerably. And the people in my life – from my coworkers to my friends to my neighbors – have been so understanding. But it is me, and only me, that seems to take issue with how I'm responding to things.
Who am I to dictate what the "right" response to stress is? Who am I to say that something should affect me more or less. The reality is that, in the span of just over 2 months, I experienced my first presidential transition as a federal employee, got told I was going to be fired as a result of this new presidential administration, moved into my first apartment, celebrated my birthday, and started a new government contract job. All in 70 days.
And while I was pushing myself to not lose sleep over things beyond my control, I was actually just losing steam. Not just motivation, but the literal energy I needed to keep up with everything was running out faster than normal and that frustrated me.
I’ve been in what I consider an emotional homeostasis. I think of it similar to how in extreme weather my body would shut down non-vital body systems just to focus on maintaining its temperature and keeping me alive. As I navigate extreme circumstances in my life, I see emotional homeostasis as shutting down the non-vital parts of my daily life so I can focus on maintaining a baseline sense of wellbeing. Whether it's physical or emotional, homeostasis requires energy. Energy that the body has to redirect from other places.
What has that looked like for me? I procrastinated for a month on a freelance piece. My text response time has plummeted. My attention to detail has suffered and my desire to create is more unpredictable. My focus was a little harder to maintain and I didn’t finish a book all of Q1. And My Q1 bingo card? No bingo for me. I wrote three pieces for my (weekly) blog in the span of three months and skipped more newsletters than I ever would've thought. I wasn’t as perceptive and calculating about problems as usual for a few months. Some of my friends haven’t heard from me in weeks, months in some cases.
Not to say I've been wasting away, but I've just been using the energy I have and redirecting it to where it feels most important: Showing up in my community, supporting my friends, loving and appreciating people in real time, baking, making salads, hanging art on my walls, going on hikes and runs, doing independent bible studies, serving at my church, going to dinner, designing invitations for future dinners.
I've also been wrangling with the possibility that there may be consequences for maintaining that homeostasis. What happens when I'm not at 100%? What suffers? What is lost? What slips through the cracks? What if the people in my life can’t be forgiving or understanding? What do I miss out on?
But perhaps those are the wrong questions. Perhaps giving myself grace in this moment can look like focusing on what’s going well, what I’m able to achieve, and how I’m able to love God, myself, and others right now, today.
I hate to admit that I felt disappointed in myself that I allowed my circumstances to reduce my capacity. But now I feel grateful to have made it through those circumstances at all. I can look back on Q1 2025 and think about all the things I didn't accomplish, but oh how silly I'd be to look past all the joy and things I did accomplish and the miracles and the ways God provided for me. I'm not a machine. I do not exist to perform or produce for anyone – including myself.
I think it is perfectly alright that I'm not at the top of my game right now. Trouble don't last always. And who's watching anyway?
