In lieu of making a commitment to give up my favorite cancer syrup diet coke or halfheartedly announcing plans to stop eating like a toddler who was raised on Captain Crunch and grape soda, I chose an inspirational phrase to try to live more like. My friends chose things like “show up” and “fearless,” they wouldn’t let me get away with choosing “wino” or “black out drunk.”
So I chose “be still,” mostly because that could also be interpreted to mean “take more naps.” And that’s something I could definitely get behind. Also, being still is pretty much the antithesis for exercise and getting gross and sweaty. I can be still and drink this box of wine while binge watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix, like the classy lady I am.
“Be still” is supposed to mean for me to take my time and enjoy life and feel things, even the dark parts, completely instead of busying myself as a distraction. That’s tough… and a little bit scary. I never realized how addicted I had become to being busy until I didn’t have a choice. Being still means acknowledging and sitting with the pain, hopelessness, feelings of worthlessness, guilt, shame, sadness, and depression. It means take a deep breathe and letting the scenery refocus, instead of hurrying to the next thing to fill your time and thoughts like an empty shell of yourself.
Being still also means enjoying the blessings that are in your life right now. Like takeout sushi, warm days in February, the adorable way your child holds a tiny package of fruit snacks, or how incredible a father your husband is to your children. Being still is good. And I know I can’t let myself forget this when I feel tempted to run from the hard things.
Instead, be still, and drink wine instead. Or something.