Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Eleven.

Lesson Eleven: Going All In

This City Girl's inner monologue often sounds like Zach Braff's character from Scrubs and usually leads into a far-fetched daydream that ends with a choir singing out the days thoughts. (Oh, how I wish I was kidding.) However, earlier this week there was a plain and simple conversation in this Girl's head that looked a lot like this:

Lesson Nine*...know your season. Hmph. I'm clearly still in the same process I was when I posted that lesson back in January. JANUARY!!!...I guess I can see it's definitely been a process. I feel like a totally different person from the girl who wrote that post months ago and I know I'm definitely NOT still at the starting line, but seriously....when is this time going to be over?? This feels like waterboarding. (insert whiny noises and groaning) There's gotta be a way to make this go faster...Can I truly say that I've been in this, like, really in this? Hmm....why do I get the feeling there's more I could be doing here? (insert additional groans)

So, Lesson Eleven readers, I say this with as much bravery as I can muster: This City Girl has decided to push all her chips to the middle. Into the innermost depths of a difficult time. Into the very hardest of all situations, bearing down and leaning in. All in hopes that it will make this time, this season of learning, somehow go faster. This City Girl will let the lungs of her heart take in as much of the ethereal water as they can hold in hopes that she will come out on the other side of this season a better Girl. A stronger Girl. A Girl with answers. A Girl with greater hope.

Today I am going all in.

* The answer is yes. My thought process does include url links. (wink)

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Nine.

Lesson Nine: Know your seasons.

I moved to The Beach a couple weeks ago. And I know I always say that I live at The Beach. But this time I moved, quite literally, to the ocean's doorstep. As in, I walk outside, cross the street, and I'm there. Toes in the sand. Salt air in my face. Sunshine and fog all around.

A few months before this fabulous decision to move, I had a sad break-up. A break-up that I saw coming down the pike that wasn't so sad because of the person about to leave, but because I knew the next season of self-growth that I had been skillfully avoiding was knocking at my door. And I didn't like the haunting feeling that I was about to hurt in yet another way. Felt like Scrooge anticipating the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. But I knew that it was time to leave my season of heartbreak and bravely submit myself to a season of healing.

It took the entire four months, one-third of 2011, for my little heart to heal. A time for all those shattered pieces to be gently gathered up, connected together, and for my heart to feel like it could truly beat on its own. And while four months doesn't sound like a long time, it was tough for this City Girl to be all alone. In fact, it was the first time I was decidedly alone in about 2 years. I had turned down dates, set-ups, any prospective males of any kind in hopes that my time alone would reveal some great truth about life or love. Instead, those four months were used to get me back on my feet and able to stand up tall against the corrupt winds of charm, possessed by the everyday douche bag, that seem to whisk toward me on a weekly basis. Those four months were an emotional bootcamp, of sorts, that prepared me to raise my bar when it comes to all things love related.

And now I live at The Beach. Which to anyone else may not mean a whole lot. But to this City Girl it means a new season. Being a solid 15 minutes outside of The City, this part of The Beach is sleepy, quiet and completely unassuming. This place is peaceful. And I can now say, without doubt in my mind, this new season will be one of restoration.

Stay tuned...