What Happens When You Stop Running?

I had lunch with my friend Chase not long ago. It was a sobering lunch. Chase, who would die for me and who I would die for, let me know that it has been painful for him to watch me live over the last six months. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, honestly. While I've gone through a bit of a personal hell over the last season, I've maintained productivity, kept my chin up, havent given in to depression and so on and so on.

"I know." Chase said. "That's my point. You're running. It's been hard to watch. You're normally reflective and thoughtful, but you haven't even taken the time to sit with your thoughts or with yourself. You're either having tons of people over to the house, out at a restaurant, getting on a plane or calling somebody on the phone. It's not you."

Chase was right. And I knew it. The day before I met with Chase it all came crashing down. I was at yet another party at my office and I could feel it rising up. I said goodbye to my friends and excused myself and went out to the car and fell apart. I cried so hard the edges of my mouth hurt. Why? Because I'd hurt some people. And I'd known it but there was nothing I could do about it. I mean I could say I was sorry, but how do you just say your sorry to wrecking somebody's hopes and dreams?

The truth is after I met with Chase I kept running. It's the holidays, you know, so there's plenty going on. There's plenty of wine and plenty of sugar and no shortage of people hanging out. It wasn't until very recently that I found myself here in the house, scrolling through the phone, looking for somebody to call that I realized I was deathly afraid of facing myself.

I put the phone down and just prayed. And felt. And feared. And a few hours later, for the first time in a long time I started to wonder if everything was going to be okay.

I don't really know, to be honest with you. Maybe. Maybe not. But I do know that whole time I was running, that whole time I was afraid to stop and deal with reality I was secretly miserable.

What happens when you stop running? For me, it's just a time to survey the damage. To say I'm sorry to the people I need to say I'm sorry to. To not distract myself or numb myself with a plan of attack, but rather to pick up the first little pile of ash, the first shards of broken glass and try to clean up a little of the mess I've made.

What happens when you stop running? You start healing. At least that's my hope.

What Happens When You Stop Running? is a post from: Donald Miller's Blog