There comes a point in time, and I believe this is always just a point in time, when the weight of any identity becomes simply too heavy to hold. The fact of it being an identity, something that we are not, a role that we play, means that at some point it will require more maintenance and effort to sustain and keep running than one really has to give.

On the surface this might look like we are slipping and regressing in our evolution. This is especially so if we have been living one of those identities that do "really good" things. The humble, helpful, service oriented ones. The spiritual, wise, trustworthy and safe ones. The attractive, inspirational, successful and confident ones. No matter the kind of identity, the humility was never entirely sincere. The helpfulness had its limits and irritations. The service was not without some exhaustion. The spiritual and wise was not without a hidden and isolating self-doubt. The trustworthiness was not without exhaustion. The attractiveness, inspiration and success were not without attachment to external validation and recognition.

Even a good looking, well functioning, well put-together ego structure is still an ego structure. Every ego structure, no matter what it is, has it's fallacies, it's unsolvable weak spots, it's consistently predictable defensiveness. All egos need ongoing effort and protection in order to persist, even the most developed, successful and "helpful" one's out there.

Keeping up just becomes harder because of how much effort is required to maintain and keep "healthy" our sense of self. All of the fallacies of ego begin to take more energy than what we otherwise thought we were gaining. We depend upon and require so much more effort to keep it going, and it just doesn't seem to be working anymore; it's not as real for us.

From society's standards, this is generally a thing to fix; an issue to somehow overcome.

But what if the next step isn't about fixing the inadequacies of your identity? What if it's just time to let it go?

This is perhaps some grief in this. It's like ending a relationship that did so many wonderful things, but couldn't truly stand on its own without someone holding it up. What happens when you let go? What is next when the effort to be someone is relinquished?

Our identities in this world never stand on their own, they require our holding it up; and at a certain point the value and gain of such holding-up is no longer worth the effort of said holding. It's too tiring.

I don't think we really can let go until this exhaustion begins to set it. Until then, the "being someone" is attractive. We want it, we value it. It has to become more burdensome than the value we think we are deriving from it. This happens when it happens.

But it's not bad. It just is. It's natural and needs to happen.

May we recognize when this time has come. And in this recognition, may we have the courage and faith to trust the process, to trust the inevitable. Thankful we are that in the end nothing will stand in the way between us and God. Nothing - and we wouldn't want it any other way.

​