The last week and a half have been refreshingly normal. More than that, the word defining the past week and a half would have to be… humble.
Humility was a word that came up for me at 2 meetings this week, within 2 days of each other. It’s not a topic I hear much, and oddly, it was just what the Doctor ordered.
(Side note: wouldn’t it be cool if Dr. Who was my HP? Not like in the traveling companion sense, that doesn’t work for my love addiction, but in the Time Lord sense. That would be kind of awesome)
There have been many times in my life where I get to a place of overwhelm and forget humility. I continue on, pushing ahead, trying to manage on my own. My mantra?
“IF GOD DOESN’T DO IT I’LL JUST HAVE TO DO IT MYSELF!!!” *huff puff gripe whine collapse*
This past week or so, since my ah-ha that no one can fulfill my needs and that I can’t get over my defect of control all by my lonesome, humility has brought me down again and again. At least once a day I’ve stopped, rolled my eyes upward (sometimes with a little annoyance) and said, “Okay. Help. I give up.”
You know what is funny? Once you get a little humility… help always comes. Sometimes it’s as simple as dropping off to sleep. Other times, it’s getting a call from someone else who needs experience, strength, and hope. But it always appears.
I honestly think that if I hadn’t discovered the key of humility, I would have gone out sooner or later. I’m a supreme white knuckler. As a perfectionist, if I’m told I shouldn’t do something, I can buckle under and not do it. But sooner or later I will explode, unless I have help from something bigger. I know I was heading to the area of explosion because my resentment about having to follow all the rules was growing steadily.
But now, instead of exploding, I find space. I stop. Most of all, I open my lips and push out the worst four letter word in the world: HELP.