Some Days

Some days life is good. Things go smoothly. Work is easy. My oldest daughter is at peace with herself and the world. My husband and I connect and compromise. My house stays relatively clean. I have a good conversation with a close friend. Life is good.

Some days life is amazing. I laugh and play with my daughters. A student at school masters a new skill and strikes out to do something new and amazing. I share my heart with a friend and she shares back. I laugh and I live and I love. Life is amazing.

Some days life just is. Events are neither good nor bad. Neither easy nor hard. I just exist through the day - no noticeable happiness, but no struggles either. This may sound boring. This may sound like a negative thing. But it's not. If I can't find happiness on any day, I long for the mundane bland days. I like when life just is.

Some days life is hard. From the moment my feet hit the floor, it's one struggle after another. My daughters struggle through our morning routine. Their tears feel like an outward expression of my heart in those moments. I wish I could lay down on the floor and cry too. My students at work are out of sorts. Their entire school day is a struggle to get from point A to point B, and we never quite connect and figure it out. My husband and I struggle to compromise and see each other's perspective. My day feels full and I feel that I never stop. Life is hard.

And some days life is unbearable. Usually these days follow right behind the hard days. If life is hard for enough days, even if the hard moments are all small and inconsequential, then life becomes unbearable. My demons start to whisper to me. Remind me of the pain in my heart right now. I yelled at my oldest daughter. I spent an extra fifteen minutes outside at recess but I couldn't get my students centered enough to do small groups. Supper involved macaroni and cheese. My living room floor is a landmine. My laundry is nowhere close to being caught up. And my demons whisper - "You couldn't make it through this day without falling apart. No wonder no one seems to care about your presence or absence. No wonder you and your husband fight. You are not enough for anyone." Life is unbearable.

Right now, there are a lot of unbearable days. There are a lot of good and just is days, but there are an equal number of unbearable days. I haven't been in this place for many years. Where the effort to throw my blankets off of me and get out of bed in the morning feels like too much. Where I cannot, cannot, cannot see what God sees in me. Where I cannot see anything but pain and ugliness. I'm not so low that I don't feel God. I can feel Him holding me. But I cannot take his presence as the hope I need to crawl out from this darkness and go on. I see Him, but right behind him I see all the pain, all the hurt, all the ways I am broken and not enough.

So I keep praying. Begging. Lord, make the darkness go. Because right now, He is the only One who can. I know hope is here. I can see it. I just can't quite touch it. But as long as I have the will to try to reach my hand towards it every day, I am not so far gone. Life can just be again. And then someday, life can be good and amazing again.

Enough

Enough.

The concept of enough has been something that has been on my mind a lot for the last month. Or actually, the concept of not enough.

Here's the thing about depression. It starts out as a whisper. A little whisper pointing out your fears. Your insecurities. And then the whisper gets louder. Until it becomes a shout that drowns out anything good that anyone else might say about you. Or anything good you might say about yourself. All you can hear is that voice shouting. And you think, well if all I can hear is that voice, then surely that's all anyone else can hear either. That voice, yelling out all your faults, becomes your reality.

I had this friend. Who became what I thought would be a forever friend. Who I thought saw my flaws and accepted them and embraced me for me. I was enough. Then, one day, I wasn't. We had a disagreement, and that was the end of the friendship. No talking about it. No finality to it. She turned her back on me and that was the end of that. The whispering voice of my depression, the one I hadn't heard for years, popped its head up and starting telling me all the ways in which I wasn't enough.

If someone who said they were your best friend can drop you overnight, then why would anybody want to keep you in their life? If this person who claimed to love you and embraced you in spite of your flas decided you weren't worth talking through a disagreement, then why would anybody put any effort into a relationship with you? You weren't enough for her to want to try to work things out.

And on, and on and on. And then came the thought that almost broke me:

If this friend decides you aren't enough, what's to keep the other friend from deciding the same?

I finally texted that friend and told her that I am convinced that one day she will wake up and realize the other friend was right. That I am a bad friend. That I'm not worth hanging around for. That all my faults are too much. We talked and she assured me that she cares about me and she wants my friendship. But that hateful voice continues to tell me that someday she will realize that I'm not worth it. I'm not enough.

Almost daily for the last month I have cried out to Jesus and reminded myself that to Him, I am enough. What does it matter how a single person feels about me? Jesus has accepted me for who I am. All of my sins, all of my flaws, and I am still enough to Him. One person's view of me is not how God sees me. It is a hard shift for me to make. For years I went without close friends. I was content with superficial acquaintances and a few friends, but not friends that I let all the way in. Then I met these two ladies, and I found the friendship I have always envied others for having. I thought I had friends to grow old with, to have inside, lifelong jokes with. I didn't realize it at the time, but I wrapped up too much of my self-worth in fallible human beings. And when one hurt me, I let it define my whole self. So now that I am laid flat, I am begging God to remind me daily, hourly, that the only one I need to be enough for is Him.

I am enough.

Isaiah 66:9

 

 

One of the verses that I have clung to in the last few months is Isaiah 66:9 - "I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born, says the Lord." I've whispered it to myself every day. I've written it in my journal. I've pinned and repinned it and put it on my Instagram. I have held it as my mantra.

 

As time has gone on, I have been able to see where God has allowed something new to be born. I have watched my oldest learn how to stand on her own two feet. She was so wrapped up in her best friend that she wasn't her own person, she was starting to see herself as her-plus-best-friend. I see her branching out now - going to dance every week on her own, trying something new (Girl Scouts) without the safety net of that best friend. I've talked to her about how important friends are, but how it is equally important for her to rely on herself and God for everything.

 

I've regained a relationship with my mom that I have been wanting for the last year. I have my mom, and I am so blessed by her presence.

 

My relationship with God has changed and deepened. When I had my tribe at my beck and call, I tended to fall back on them a lot more than I did on God. Sometimes it is easier to rely on people who you can see and touch rather than God, and I definitely fell into that trap. In all of these ways, I have seen God allow something new to be reborn. How can I doubt His wisdom and unfailing love for me, when I can see his blessings in my life over and over and over? Daily I see evidence that He is with me and he is preparing a path before me.

 

And then today. I'm a big fan of signs. I believe that the white overexposed spots on photos are a little hug from our loved ones who have passed. I believe that when I have had a rough night and a sad morning, that the extra bit of red and pink in the sunrise is God telling me life is beautiful. I believe that a random message from a friend wasn't random, but God putting some encouragement in my path at the moment I needed it most. 

 

Today I looked out my back window and saw a few flowers blooming in a pot that I had let die almost three months ago. And I believe that it is God saying to me, "Here. Let me physically show you that I always allow something new to be born."

 

God's hand is in my life. It always has been, but now my eyes are open and I'm looking for all of His blessings. When the sadness comes, I will look at this picture on my phone and remember that God is right here. He will hold me through it all. 

Blessings Can Come From Pain

 

 

 

 

Last weekend was hard. I thought I was fine. I had talked with my pastor. I had clarity. I had a plan. I was praying every single day - for myself. For my happiness. For my former friend's happiness. It was an insanely busy week at work, which was keeping my mind off things. I was fine.

 

Friday evening I had to go to a church event that involved the former friend. And it was fine. I was fine. We rotated around the room and didn't interact and it was fine. I went home and my husband was sick. Like, couldn't move, couldn't function sick. Saturday morning, when I was supposed to get to sleep in, I was up at 6:00 with my youngest. And as the morning wore on, it became apparent that my husband's non-functioning state was going to continue. The realization that I was going to be navigating Halloween and a full weekend of facing my former friend alone hit me like a ton of bricks. And I was not fine. Not at all.

 

I spent the better part of an hour that afternoon in a panic attack. Sobbing. Feeling like I had hit a wall and I couldn't do this for one moment longer. The thought of holding it together alone and facing my friend over and over and over all weekend just made me feel sick. So I called my mom. I asked her to come trick or treat with us at the church and to basically hold my hand.

 

I fell apart, and my mom showed up and picked up all my pieces and put me back together. She didn't literally hold my hand, but I swear I could almost feel her hand in mine the entire time we were at my church. She took my younger daughter and kept her entertained so that I could do the activities with my older daughter. She checked in with me three or four times and asked if I was okay. She kept saying, "You got this. You got this baby."

 

And I did. About ten minutes in, I got my strength back. The certainty that I had been feeling, that I could survive this, that ending this friendship was the right thing for both of us, returned. And the last time that my mom touched my back and whispered, "You got this" to me, I said, "I know. I've got this."

 

So here's the blessing in all this pain. I got my mama back. For the last several years, she hadn't been nearly as present in my life, or my daughters' lives. Her job was so stressful to her that she couldn't function outside of it, because it was taking all of her energy to get through each day. Her stress was so high that her health was a mess. This last summer she quit her job and we started to see her more and more. Then this school year when everything fell apart with my friend, my mom was there to take over on taking my oldest daughter to school (something my friend has been doing before). And in the last two weeks, my mom has been there for me. Sending me encouraging messages. Bringing me a coffee cup and Halloween towels. And holding me up and getting me through an evening that I thought I couldn't bear. I am blessed beyond measure. And if all of this pain means I have my mama back, then so be it. My oldest daughter is so much more at peace. She is so much calmer with my mom taking her to school. That extra attention my mom can give her one on one after I walk out the door in the morning has helped my daughter blossom and flourish. Her anxiety has gone down so much in the last two weeks.

 

My mom pieced me back together so well that I was able to face three more social interactions with my former friend. And even enjoy myself. I went to church and Sunday School and lunch and enjoyed myself. It is different now. But different doesn't always have to be bad. So I will continue to focus on the blessings that have come from my pain. I will continue to pray every day. For myself. For my friend. For our peace, separate from each other. For our futures, separate from each other. It is okay. It will continue to be okay. God has a purpose for this. His Hand is in it. I can see the good. I may still not be seeing the full picture, the entire story. But I know there is a reason for all of this. I know that God can take something miserable and turn it into something beneficial and beautiful.

 

So I'm here God. Waiting. Watching. Sure in the knowledge that You are here. That something new will be born from this. Take it all Lord. It's Yours. 

Tribe

 

 

 

I've been hurt many times in my life. That's living though. We hurt and we hurt others. It's part of our sin nature. Over the years, I've learned that being hurt is just a part of life. but that Jesus can hold us through our pain.

 

I've always been more of a loner. Group gatherings and social events stress me out. I want to be with people, but more one on one. I've never had a lot of friends, but I've had a few good ones over the years. But mostly I've kept to myself. When Raegan and I started going to our church five years ago, I sat alone. I shook hands with people. I made super brief small talk, if I had to. I declined invites to Sunday School. And all of that was fine by me. I went, I worshipped, I left. My soul was recharged, my heart was content.

 

And then I met two ladies my age. We started to talk. Our children were friends, we had things in common. So we started to hang out. And I started to go to Sunday School. I started to go to the young adult group get-togethers. At first, hesitantly. At first, I can't say that I loved it. But I really enjoyed the company of my two friends, so I kept going. And then I started to enjoy it. Then I started to speak in Sunday School. Then I healed.

 

I walked away from the church for many years, because of how I was treated in the church in high school and college. In the folly of my youth, I looked to people instead of Jesus, and I turned my back on the One Thing that would have healed my pain. So to regularly go to church again, to enjoy church - this was something my soul needed. At some point over the last year and a half, I forgave the kids that hurt me in my high school youth group. I healed. I really believe that was God's purpose for me finding these two friends.

 

We all three talked about the concept of tribe. Sometimes family fails you. But you can make your own family. You can make your tribe - the people that choose to love you, that choose to be in your life. I thought I had found forever friends. The friendships I had seen others have - now I had it too.

 

Then something changed. Somewhere, somehow, something changed and something broke between me and one of my friends. I don't know how, I don't know what. It doesn't matter whose fault it was. Maybe it was nobody's fault. Now, in hindsight, I look back and I think it happened over the summer. But when you are in the moments, you don't always see the subtle signs that something is off. Wrong. So life went on, and everything looked the same. But then everything wasn't the same, and everything fell apart. And I found myself floundering without one of my friends. So I shut down and shut out and tucked tail, just like I always do when I'm hurting. Through my pastor and the other friend, my friend and I talked. I thought we moved past it, but I think we just slapped a bandage on the wound. Whatever broke was still there. For four weeks life went back seemingly to normal.

 

We promised we would all three talk if there was a problem. Work out issues and not let them fester like the first blow up. So one night I found myself hurt by them, and I shared with them. One friend accepted my pain. The other shut me out. We have not spoken about anything of consequence in the two weeks since that moment. There has been an undercurrent of my feelings not being okay for awhile now. Some things that were said about real problems, some things that were not said when I shared problems. But my feelings are real and valid, and my problems hurt me. I cannot and will not hide my true self from someone who is supposed to be my tribe. Maybe we would have come back from this. I don't know. But this time, I felt strongly in my heart that this was enough. We kept hurting each other, and it was no longer a healthy relationship. So I ended it. I told her that I hoped some day we could be there for each other again, but for now we needed to stop hurting each other.

 

I never got a response. So for a few days, I wallowed. I was so little to her that I didn't even deserve a response? My pastor told me I didn't really want that response. It would have wounded me more than I already am. My immediate reaction is to tuck tail and run. I have never been hurt more than I have been by other Christians, and I immediately want to curl up and protect my heart. When I was hurt in high school and college, they were nobodies. People who were unimportant to me. This was my best friend. So I told my pastor to hold me accountable. Make sure I'm at church. Make sure I'm not hiding and crying. He told me, "Hold your head high, come to church, and raise your girls." I whisper it to myself every morning. I've licked my wounds and begged Jesus to hold me through this. Every day it hurts, but every day He is there to wipe my tears and hold me.

 

Tribe does not mean what I thought it did. But I will not be bitter. I will not let this harden me or change me.

 

I am enough. I am made in God's image, and no matter what anyone thinks of me, I am enough to Him. I will write it on my heart every hour of every day until I believe it.

 

I am enough.

Beginning



In junior high and high school, I wrote in a journal. The happy times, the sad times, especially the sad times - it all went into my spiral bound notebooks. Writing has always been a way for me to cope with pain. It's my therapy. College came, and two jobs plus full class loads every semester meant no more journals. After college, I started blogging online to cope with my new role as a stepmother. And through that, I met some amazing women. Women that I consider to be forever friends. Ten years later, we still are there for each other. I have these friendships with women I have never met, but I consider to be among my greatest blessings.

When I had Raegan that blog ended, and I started one as a way to chronicle her milestones. It was mostly for my mama, but it also served as a digital baby book of sorts. Occasionally I shared my thoughts on parenting topics, but journaling for me took a back seat to my role as a mother. When Ava came along, I mostly abandoned the blog in favor of Facebook. Facebook became my digital baby book for Ava, which is why I can never delete it permanently.

So here I am, back to BlogSpot again. I have a paper journal that I have been writing in for the last two months as everything has fallen apart, but typing is so much quicker and easier.

Things are rough right now. This may not always be eloquent. I know my cries to God are jumbled and messy, but He hears them and holds me through my pain. I just want all of this out, in writing. I want to learn from all the crap. I want to grow in my relationship with Christ. I want to look back on this all someday and see the lessons I've learned, see how I've come out of the fire stronger. So here I am, splitting myself open.