Knowing your Limits: Confessions of a Recovering "Do-it-All"

Limits

There was one day of volleyball tryouts that I dreaded more than any others.  The thought of that day gave me anxiety, caused me to lose sleep, and was almost enough to make me forego playing volleyball in high school.

The 2 mile run.

I loathed running in middle school, high school, and, honestly, throughout the first 37 years of my life.  Running represented all of my weaknesses and limitations. I was never a skinny girl. In fact, throughout my late elementary years, I was a bit on the round side.  I hit puberty between 5th and 6th grade and shot up, but I still didn’t “thin out.” And, I don’t know if you ever really get over being the “fat kid” in elementary school.  So, when I was forced to do a timed run for volleyball tryouts, every insecurity and all of my limits dominated my thoughts.

We had 20 minutes to run 2 miles.  The reality of this was that I never had a problem actually making my 2 miles in 20 minutes, but the fear that I wouldn’t was almost paralyzing to me.  One of my best friends throughout high school was this super skinny, ultra athletic, superstar volleyball player, and I always thought I would try to at least start the run with her.  My short legs could never compete with her legs that seemed almost the same length as my entire body. So, I would always fall back and maintain my place in the middle of the pack, praying that I would beat the 20 minutes on the clock and not be dead last.  

I made it.

Every time.

It pushed me to my limits.

It stretched me mentally.

It caused me fear.

But I made it.

I wouldn’t have made it if the time limit was less, though.  Maybe I would have made it if the time was dropped to 19 minutes or maybe even 18 minutes, but anything less than that?  No way.

Because I have limits.

Because there are things I physically cannot do.

And running that quickly at that time in my life was beyond my limits.

Pushing the Limits

I’ve always understood my physical limits.  I’ve been able to read my body and know what it could take and what it couldn’t take.  

It’s the mental and emotional limits I have always struggled with.  I have spent the majority of my life unable to utter the word “no.” Anyone with me here?  I have this idea that if someone asks me to do something, and I don’t do it, the world might actually, quite literally end.  

We need someone to plan prom…

I hate school dances, but okay.

We need someone to run the concession stand every Saturday and Sunday for 6 weeks straight.

That sounds like hell, but okay.

We need someone to teach two classes simultaneously.

That seems awful, but okay.

We need someone to take over homecoming.

I’m already doing prom and don’t really want to, but okay.

We need someone to make all of the food for a once a month concert series.

I work full time, but okay.

That was my life.

Until it wasn’t.

Breaking Point.

Each of us has a breaking point, and they are all different.  And you know what? That’s okay. It’s okay that your breaking point is different than your husband’s.  It’s okay that your breaking point is different than your coworker’s. It’s okay that your breaking point is different than your roommate’s.  But, you, you have to know what your breaking point is, and you have to guard yourself from ever getting close to that breaking point.

I didn’t.

I thought I could do it all.

There was a point earlier this year where I was well beyond my breaking point and in a whirlwind of a downward spiral.  I was doing everything and doing nothing well. I had lost sight of reality because I was so far down the rabbit hole of chaos, exhaustion, and numbness.  And, you know what happened?

I crashed.

Hard.

Recovery

My name is Kristen, and I am a “do-it-all.”  Well, a recovering “do-it-all.”

God told me to go.  You know those moments when you hear God’s voice and you know you have to listen?  This was one of those moments where God knew if I was going to survive, I had to go.  He led me away for six weeks, and he placed me in the company of my parents who are absolute professionals at holding space.  

And he healed me there in the quiet, the sunshine, and the peace.

He healed me physically, mentally, and spiritually.

He healed my relationships with my daughter and my parents.

He saw my brokenness; he chased me down, and he healed me.

Sometimes drastic times call for drastic measures.

Boundaries and Limits

I came home a different person, but a more real and authentic person.  For the first time in my life, I understood the need for boundaries and limits.  I understood my emotional needs, my mental needs, and my spiritual needs. Most importantly, though, I understood the necessity of setting boundaries and doing my best to have my needs met.

And it wasn’t pretty.

When it comes to physical limits and boundaries, we tend to respect them.  We can’t physically push our bodies beyond their limits. It doesn’t work. But, emotional limits are completely different.  You can’t see the physical warning signs of pushing emotional limits like you can when you push your body. There aren’t outward signs that you are reaching your emotional limits.  And, I think that is what it makes it so difficult for us to both respect our own emotional limits and those of others. I tried, though. And here’s what happened:

I found myself repeatedly saying no and saying “I can’t do that” for the first time in my life.  

I found myself setting emotional boundaries and attempting to maintain them for the first time in my life.

I found myself struggling with the temptation to fall back into my old habits because those seemed easier than disappointing anyone.

And it was hard.  

Growing Pains

I believe God wants us to respect our limits and cry out to him when we get too close to our breaking points because that’s the constant example He’s given us.  In Psalms, David writes:

Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in the miry depths,
where there is no foothold.

I have come into the deep waters;
the floods engulf me.

I am worn out calling for help;
my throat is parched.

My eyes fail,
looking for my God.  (69:1-4)

Have you been there?  If you’re like me, you know this place well, the place where you feel like the water is just about to drown you, where you are sinking so deeply in the muck that you don’t think you can ever get out, where  you are struggling in the depths with no foothold, where the flood waters are about to engulf you, where you are worn out and hoarse from crying out for help and seeking God’s face.

The place where you are empty, you are beyond your limits, and you are broken.

That’s David was when he wrote this but he doesn’t stop there.  This isn’t the place where he drowns. It isn’t the place where he gives up.  Instead, he says this:

But I pray to you, O LORD,
in the time of your favor;
in your great love, O God,
answer me with your sure salvation.

Rescue me from the mire,
do not let me sink;
deliver me from those who hate me,
from the deep waters.

Do not let the floodwaters engulf me
or the depths swallow me up
or the pit close its mouth over me.

Answer me, O LORD, out of the goodness of your love;
in your great mercy turn to me.

Do not hide your face from your servant;
answer me quickly, for I am in trouble.

Come near and rescue me;
redeem me because of my foes." (69:13-18)

The story doesn’t end at the breaking point.  Instead, it moves forward. David recognizes his limits, he acknowledges his breaking point, and he says “enough is enough.”  He recognizes his inability to fix his situation on his own, and he cries out to God for salvation and rescue from the mire, from the deep waters, and from the pit.  He acknowledges his trouble, and asks for deliverance and mercy.

It took the psalmist understanding his limits, though, before any of this was possible.  It took the psalmist acknowledging his emptiness and his trouble before he could plead with God to be filled, saved, and rescued.

And, I believe that is exactly what God wants from us.  

He wants us to know who we are and understand our limits and breaking points.

He wants us to see each other and understand all of our limits and breaking points are different.

He wants us to respect our limits and the limits and breaking points of others.

And, he desperately wants us to cry out to him and acknowledge that we need Him to save and rescue us.

Just like David in this psalm.

Who you are and Whose you are

Friend, knowing your limits and boundaries does not make you weak.  It does not make you less than. It does not make you selfish. Knowing what you can and cannot do shows, instead, that you know who you are.  

Crying out to God when you get close to your limits and breaking point does not make you weak.  It does not make you less than. It does not make you selfish. Crying out to God shows, instead, that you know whose you are.

And knowing who you are and whose you are are two of the only absolutes in this chaotic world, my friend.  

Good luck on your journey.  Until next time...

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