Type A or B? Finding my peaceful pace

Hurriedness is like an epidemic.  The American culture esteems faster, impulsive, and driven.

I’m admittedly somewhere between types A and B. I can never keep up with the movers and shakers, yet I don’t find myself quite as chill as the average hippy. I basically like to take my time.  Decisions especially. I weigh out the options in all things. What groceries and couch cover to buy? Should I join e-harmony? (I have friends eager to pay for my membership if I would just give them the green light.)

Punctual for the most part.  A  commitment keeper, highly loyal, and my yes is yes.  I’m just not quick to say yes, that’s all.

So don’t rush me. I should probably apologize for the times I have at times pushed others into decisions –yet would probably bite back if the pressure was reciprocated.

Oh, for the happy medium between the two extremes. The longer I live, I realize my inner pace waivers between the expectations within myself and the expectations I imagine (keyword: imagine) others have placed on me . A no-win dilemma, because it’s impossible to please everybody all the time.

My personal wiring isn’t programmed to climb the ever elusive ladder. Yet,  the opposing Type B may judge me to be not free flowing enough to hang on the beach with the other B’s.

The irony is that when my outer pace is congruent with the inner one, I’m most productive. Not productive in a mechanical sense, but in the “me” sense. I’m most alive, creative, engaging—when my heart isn’t pressured, intimidated, or shamed into doing or being something that isn’t really aligned with my natural God-given rhythm.


This is not a cop out for living, merely permission to remain in the rest that is possible for the children of God. Permission is my compass. Am I giving myself the freedom to run my race at a speed where I can enjoy the view around me, or am I running so fast that I forget why I’m running in the first place?  Ok, I hate running, so drinking coffee would be a better analogy. Am I downing the coffee while hurrying out the door? Or am I enjoying each sip?

Pressure and hurriedness can produce results for some. For me it produces stress, anxiety and gas in my colon (not to mention adrenal fatigue).

What it comes down to is that no one cares how fast I’m going or if I’m going in the right direction. We are all too preoccupied with stopping to capture the perfect “selfie” (with the perfect filter) to notice each other anyway.

So, what was it I was so pressured about again?