These days, on ideal mornings, I wake up with Chris when it's still dark and our street is sleepy. We do our quiet time in the big, comfy chairs at the front of our house, keeping all of the lights off except a dim lamp in the sunroom. It's warm and slow and happy as I journal and think about how much coffee I'm going to drink.
After that, I start writing. Lately, I've been working on a book I hope to publish (<-SCARY feeling, vulnerable admission), I submitted an article to Relevant (<-SCARY, vulnerable feeling, again) and have been trying to free write as much as I can. I am getting back to an old feeling, a feeling I felt for years and pushed down as my schedule got too busy and the paycheck got too comfortable. It's the feeling of: I have to write, I have to get this out of my head right now.
The mornings feel sacred when I go about them this way. They feel protected, creative and precious, as I know that someday slow mornings won't be within reach. They haven't been for the last six years and I'm savoring them right now, knowing this chapter is finite.
After my third cup of coffee and every thought has been put somewhere on paper, I start on tasks: coaching, monetizing my blog, networking, tracking my goals, etc.
Yes. That is the ideal morning.
However, sometimes, I get derailed. That moment is when, right after my precious quiet time, I allow myself to blog stalk. Because, in that moment, I start comparing. I realize other people are doing more things, being more creative, have better images, better recipes, better words, better ideas...
Before I know it, I am convinced everyone has better everything and I made a huge mistake quitting my job and should probably start looking for a new one ASAP.
Comparison is the thief of joy, yes. It is also the thief of creativity.
Comparison gets its strength from its evil cousin, scarcity. They work hand in hand to taunt us, haunt us and convince us that there isn't enough in the world to go around; that we're in competition instead of collaboration.
It's the little voice in your head that makes you mad, not happy for a friend who gets engaged.
It's the pit in your stomach when your friend tells you she's pregnant and you've been trying so, so hard to get there.
It's the annoyance you feel when a friend loses (healthy) weight when you just can't seem to do it.
It's the anger you feel when your coworker gets promoted and you've been working just.as.hard.
It's the belief that this world is running out of happiness and someone else getting theirs means it might be too late for you.
For my birthday, I asked for a cuff that says "enough". I wanted it to serve as a reminder to me: I am enough. My writing is enough. This season is enough. There is enough in the world to go around.
When I'm typing and it catches my eye, I'm reminded of all of these things.
In a comical twist, both my parents and sister got me the bracelet, so I have two. I literally received more enough cuffs than I needed. More than enough!
So, I'm wearing them both. They speak truth into my heart and remind me: there is more than enough to go around. Enough men, enough babies, enough promotions, enough weight loss.