When I quit my full-time job, I thought I would suddenly have 40-50 hours of time to fill with loads of other things. I created a Passion Board on a giant 24x36" white board (Thank you, Costco, for giant everything!) and outlined where those hours would go. Side Hustle 1, Side Hustle 2, bikini competition, homeschool, house projects, and development of myself and my marriage were all given slots with time and resource allocation projections. In the week since I quit, however, I've found myself wanting only to do a few of these things, and loathing the notion of feeling tied to the others.
Because life requires us to do things we don't enjoy (case in point: just finished my taxes), do I force myself to continue with the things that I foresee bringing me no pleasure? Or are the potential benefits of doing them, and maybe gaining new skills -- and dare I hope, even enjoyment in the mastery? -- worth forcing myself to do them? Paul spoke of beating his body to master it and finish the race well. My baser instincts shouldn't dictate actions that ought to be governed by my higher functions of reason, ethics, and empathy.
As an athlete, specifically a basketball player on my high school team, I had to learn to play through a certain type of pain. The pain of fatigue, as lactic acid built up in my muscles from wall-sits and sprints, couldn't keep me from doing suicides fast enough to avoid the punishment of still more suicides. However, I also had to learn to stop playing when I felt the kind of pain that meant my ankle sprain was acting up, or my knee strain was giving me trouble. With my physical body, making these distinctions has been fairly straightforward for me. With taxing my mind, I have to consider and determine, is it the kind of stress that makes me stronger or causes damage?
When you have lower back or knee joint issues, doctors and therapists recommend low-impact exercise like swimming or cycling. But impact is not always problematic: it improves bone density, strengthening the body through the stress. This is why astronauts and their deprivation from gravity can lead to bone density loss on prolonged missions. If I go through periods in my life where I slough certain types of stress, am I subjecting myself to conditions that will lead to decreased resiliency? Or am I making healthy life choices that enable me to get rid of the wrong kinds of stress and improve my resiliency through prolonged exposure to rest, wellness, and happiness?
Perhaps I'm considering the question from the wrong angle. If the purpose of my life is to glorify God, which I steadfastly believe that it is, then do I consider myself better equipped to bring him glory through a fire-tested strength, or something else? Could this potentially be a scenario in which there is no "right answer" (admittedly, my least favorite type of scenario because I can't easily parse if I'm in the dreaded "wrong"). Capt. Kathryn Janeway of Star Trek: Voyager is a character to whom I wholeheartedly relate on this front. Clarity in black and white convictions is a comfortable place to be, but this world seems seldom to afford me this comfort.
Because life requires us to do things we don't enjoy (case in point: just finished my taxes), do I force myself to continue with the things that I foresee bringing me no pleasure? Or are the potential benefits of doing them, and maybe gaining new skills -- and dare I hope, even enjoyment in the mastery? -- worth forcing myself to do them? Paul spoke of beating his body to master it and finish the race well. My baser instincts shouldn't dictate actions that ought to be governed by my higher functions of reason, ethics, and empathy.
As an athlete, specifically a basketball player on my high school team, I had to learn to play through a certain type of pain. The pain of fatigue, as lactic acid built up in my muscles from wall-sits and sprints, couldn't keep me from doing suicides fast enough to avoid the punishment of still more suicides. However, I also had to learn to stop playing when I felt the kind of pain that meant my ankle sprain was acting up, or my knee strain was giving me trouble. With my physical body, making these distinctions has been fairly straightforward for me. With taxing my mind, I have to consider and determine, is it the kind of stress that makes me stronger or causes damage?
When you have lower back or knee joint issues, doctors and therapists recommend low-impact exercise like swimming or cycling. But impact is not always problematic: it improves bone density, strengthening the body through the stress. This is why astronauts and their deprivation from gravity can lead to bone density loss on prolonged missions. If I go through periods in my life where I slough certain types of stress, am I subjecting myself to conditions that will lead to decreased resiliency? Or am I making healthy life choices that enable me to get rid of the wrong kinds of stress and improve my resiliency through prolonged exposure to rest, wellness, and happiness?
Perhaps I'm considering the question from the wrong angle. If the purpose of my life is to glorify God, which I steadfastly believe that it is, then do I consider myself better equipped to bring him glory through a fire-tested strength, or something else? Could this potentially be a scenario in which there is no "right answer" (admittedly, my least favorite type of scenario because I can't easily parse if I'm in the dreaded "wrong"). Capt. Kathryn Janeway of Star Trek: Voyager is a character to whom I wholeheartedly relate on this front. Clarity in black and white convictions is a comfortable place to be, but this world seems seldom to afford me this comfort.
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