I'm learning that I can't tell everyone everything. For a long time, my habit has been to gather opinions from everyone around me when I'm making a decision or going through a difficult time and need some guidance.
All the voices of these women in my head sent me home more anxious than I had been on my way to work that morning.
That was the day I began to wonder if I should be more careful about who I share important information with and who I seek wisdom from. What to share, with whom, and when.
It is such a delicate balance. It is taking seriously the pearls to swine metaphor. And it often takes the negative and hurtful responses to teach us this.
If you are really honest with yourself, you probably know who your safe people are. You know the friends and family who are wise and caring with the secrets and stories you tell them, and you know the friends and family who are not so wise and caring and who have wounded you. Those people are still an important part of our lives. You probably enjoy them and like them and don't want to stop telling them things altogether, but can you trust them with your pearls–the secret fears and dreams–when you know they're more likely to manhandle the information than they are to hold it lightly and talk it through with you? Probably not.
In my current life phase, I'm excited about pursuing new dreams but I'm protecting what I say to whom and when. It's not being guarded as much as it is being careful.
It's hard for me to not blurt out every idea and struggle, poll my entire office building and send out mass texts to different friend groups. I want people to give me feedback and tell me what to do, but I also know that I can make decisions and progress without hearing from numerous people in my life first, and that in the end, there are only a handful of voices I should be listening to anyways, starting with the one that's inside.
"At issue here is the question: "To whom do I belong? God or to the world?" Many of my daily preoccupations suggest that I belong more to the world than to God. A little criticism makes me angry, and a little rejection makes me depressed. A little praise raises my spirits, and a little success excites me. It takes very little to raise me up or thrust me down. Often I am like a small boat on the ocean, completely at the mercy of its waves. All the time and energy I spend in keeping some kind of balance and preventing myself from being tipped over and drowning shows that my life is mostly a struggle for survival: not a holy struggle, but an anxious struggle resulting from the mistaken idea that it is the world that defines me.
I sit on God's lap a lot – my feelings get hurt easily so I lay everything on HIM. HE understands everything so I have a tendency to stay in my shell. That is not always good but tender feelings are protected.
I have been blessed to have friends at all stages who encourage my dreams, often pushing me out of my comfort zone when the voice of doubt is my own. Even people I hardly know, but who have read my writing, encourage me. My family? Not so much. Most of them are of the idea that 'work' means going to an office for eight hours every day, until you retire at 65. They don't understand my aversion to that life, and my desire to make something of my writing talent. Therefore, I never take my dreams to them, ever. They would shrivel up and die under the weight of their worry and questions.
I would encourage everyone to write down your dreams, concerns or whatever you'd ask people's opinions on and pray about it. There's always at least one person you can talk to, so if you need some help figuring it out, go that one person. Fight the impulse to poll people, as it will only make you crazy trying to sift through all the different opinions. People respond based on their experiences and fears and concerns. Don't take on those burdens.