I looked in the mirror, and the realization hit me again as it seems to do so often these days. Forty looms closer and closer…a mere two and half years away.

Up until the past year, I’ve felt like little more than a teenager…maybe even little more than a small child. Really, I think I’ve been stuck at seven years old.

I’ve cruised through life emotionally numb in survival mode. I survived, but never learned how to thrive, or how to make choices based solely on what I wanted or believed to be best for me. As an adult, this has resulted in simply surviving day-to-day activities and functions. Suddenly, I’m a few months away from turning 38, and my life seems like a blur of going through the motions.

The past year has been beautiful and difficult as I’ve had to do some soul searching in order to pursue my God-given dreams and passions. My beliefs and even core values have changed. In the process, I’ve done some growing up. I think I’ve spent the past year trying to cram in thirty years of growing, living, exploring, questioning and feeling.

Now I look in the mirror and feel the weight of the past year. It’s like I’ve aged thirty years in the span of one year…from 7 to 37 in a mere twelve months. Suddenly, forty is threateningly close, and I can’t get enough of life. I’m suddenly terrified of looking back one day and regretting that I didn’t truly live.

I want to make choices based on what’s best for me, and on what God intends for my life. I want to feel a full range of emotions. I want to abandon fear, and live courageously.

The truth is, though, I’m not quite sure how to actively live like that. I see where I am, and I see where I want to be. I just don’t know how to get from here to there.

My counselor has said numerous times to let Jesus heal the wounds. I really, really want Him to and have asked Him to, but I’m still waiting. I’ve read books and blogs that say to live in the truth of myself. I don’t even know what that is. I suppose it’s believing what God says is true about me, but I can repeat those things to myself daily, and I’ll still feel the same feelings I felt at seven years old. If there’s a way to move past the feelings, well…I just don’t know how.

I’d really like to hear from you: Have you ever been in survival mode? If so, how did you move into actively living?

Linking with Emily for Imperfect Prose: redemption