My discontent began growing in my junior year in high school. Up until that point I had lived my life in blissful satisfaction, but once I began to face the limitless and terrifying question of “What’s next?” I began to melt down. What followed was several years of endless questioning, crippling second-guessing, and firm indecision. I clutched discontentment close to my breast as a sort of talisman that represented everything I hoped for. I believed deep down in my soul disappointment in my current situation would be the fuel in the gas tank of the vehicle which would eventually transport me to the land of happiness.
All I could see in front of me was the absolute terrifying nature of the uncertainty of life. I was grasping at ocean waves, in the hopes of trying to keep them from leaving the shore. I was trying to bottle up the light of the moon before the sun crested the ridge. I was stamping my feet firmly on a calendar date in the hopes of, by my sheer determination, keeping the next page from turning. And all the while I was desperately clinging to discontentment as a shield from what I feared most of all: settling for what wasn’t perfect.
I was very proud of my discontent. I saw these turbulent feelings as a sign that I was not settling for less. That I was actively seeking God’s will. That I was refusing to choose the second best. I figured being content in sub-par situations would be even worse than being discontent, right? I might give in to complacency instead of pursuing my dreams! I had firm pride in my own self-imposed misery. I might have been sad, but I was sad because I was holding out for perfection! So there. And discontentment grew stronger, and began to take root in my habits.
Snub-nosed Discontentment linked arms with Rosy-cheeked Perfectionism and these two devilish pals bullied me mercilessly for three years.
I look back on those years, and that miserable growing up process, and I just wish I could reach back a warm hand to the old me, and grasp her nervousness and tell her to embrace contentment as a bosom friend. I would tell her not to see contentment as an enemy of a perfect life, but as a loving companion to shepherd her into the next phase of life. I would tell her contentment would not steal anything from her, but would nourish her in her discovery process.
[Tweet “Discontentment won’t foster the life you long for, but it will ruin the life you are living. “]
Contentment is a friend worth having, don’t you think?
Part of the Peony Project linkup this month.
Nice! That is a great deal! 🙂 It is true, building a blog does not happen overnight!
By the way, I like the new blog format! I looked into buying one too, but then I discovered that for a tad less I could buy a bunch of add-ons to customize my existing template. I am trying that for awhile to see if I like it better. I still need to play around with font, colors, etc. 🙂
Thank you, Nathana! I LOVE the way your blog looks right now! So pretty. I actually didn’t end up buying a new theme. This one came as part of a package of blogging resources I bought for $3. It will keep me happy for now, until I decide the time has come for the next step. Baby steps. That is what blogging is about. 🙂
Powerful post on a subject I think most everyone struggles with, at least at different points in their life! I know I have battled it. For me it happens most when I compare my accomplishments or progress to others. Comparison is such a nasty habit. It either leaves me feeling prideful and superior or miserable and discontent.
Oh, comparison is such a vicious habit, isn’t it? Comparing myself to others is something I constantly have to fight. You are so wise in saying it never leads to anything good.
Thank you for sharing. I struggle with discontentment myself and I often find myself clutching at ‘what could be’ and miss what is already there.
I think struggling with discontentment is part of the nature of humans, but we can choose to be content. Glad you joined the conversation, David!
I’m all for appreciating what I have–for being content. It does no good to think the other way.
So true, Francene. One of my professors called negative thoughts “stinkin’ thinkin'”. Ha! It has always stuck with me.
Beautiful words and so true. Thanks for sharing with The Peony Project!
Thank you, Lecy! Nice to meet a fellow Peony!
Thank you, Bethany, for the ‘warm hand’ you have been for us. You are a gift.
And thank you for the sweet spirit you have always blessed me with. You and your family are such a blessing in my life.