It's all about details

It hit me. Just like, that it was there.

I'm a thinker. I am every word, every stereotype, every definition of a thinker. I will beat a thought in my head until it is black, purple, and blue. I think to the point of over thinking most of the time.

It's a gift and a curse to think this much. It's good in the sense that I am capable to really think situations through. When it comes to my job and having to analyze problems, my mind is fantastic. It works like a charm, but then when it comes to the simpler things in life, the small things, I struggle with. Running is a great example of my thinking getting in the way. I'll find myself over analyzing my body, over thinking to the point that I don't think I can run longer, or faster. Instead of just trusting my body to do what it's been doing since high school, I think about it, bringing doubt and fear into play.

Doubt and fear. 

That's what comes stumbling in with my thoughts, when I over think. They're like partners in crime with over thinking. As soon as overthinking takes over, along comes fear and doubt. I start questioning everything, thinking of everything that could happen.

I can actually feel when my mind has reached this point. Everything is moving so fast in my mind, I can see the rubber burning. I smell the stench of confusion, I feel the exhaustion that follows with an over thinking spell. It's really not good for me.

When it hit, when the epiphany hit me, it was when I wasn't conciuosuly thinking, I was actually reading.


I was reading a blog, sinking into the smooth poetic words of this particular writer. She was talking in descriptive detail. I noticed the detail as I was reading. It triggered the memory of my drive into work this morning. Since moving out into the boonies of Ringgold, I take the back way into Dalton, driving over the ridge. As I was driving it the morning, I couldn't help but notice the way the tree limbs grow over the road, the way the sun lays ontop of the leaves, creatings it's own color of yellow and green.

"It's these moments," I thought as I was reading," it's these small detailed moments that I have been missing."

You see, I had been running and I had been running hard with life. I took on every opportunity it laid before me. I took on each task, whether it was hard, easy, rewarding, etc. I took it on with all the strength I had in me. I was going places, I was going to a million different places yet the hole in my
chest kept getting bigger. I would look, trying to find the hole, but could never find it. But I felt it, oh I felt its aches, moans, and groans. I FELT IT ALL.

"Why isn't anything working God?, why aren't you working? I'm trying, I'm really trying, yet I still feel holes. THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!"

I was right, there were holes, but they were pin prick size holes. You couldn't see them without a magnifying glass. Even though they were small, they still hurt as if I had one massive hole in my chest.

"Small things." The sweet gentle voice said. "Small things will fill those small holes."

I need those small details and I need to give them the time they deserve. God didn't make us simple,
 he didn't make us JUST out of big pieces, he included little pieces too.


As I begin the process of slowing down, slowing my mind down, I'm finding the art of taking in each minute as it comes. Drinking in the small moments of my day, no matter how little they may seem.

I'm beginning to feel less empty, the holes are finally disappearing.