Life on Lexapro

I am about 48 hours into taking Lexapro for anxiety.  I started trying it out at night and ended up only sleeping for 3 hours before waking up and being "jazzed" for the rest of the day.  I, initially, was thinking, "great, this was a waste, I knew it wouldn't be helpful", but then as the day went on I started to feel pretty good.  I had a lot of energy, felt less compulsions to clean, and while my thoughts were still moving and bouncing from topic to topic, I didn't have the gut sinking feeling that I was going to be sick or that something was wrong.  It was one day, and the full effects and the decrease in side effects don't occur for the first week or two.  The best effects come after about a month, so it's too soon to know if this even will make a difference in my life.  I decided to take it in the morning and see if the burst of energy like I had at 2:30 in the morning could instead be around or after lunch.  We will see.

This is a big step for me.  Usually, I try my best to "do it all by myself" without any help.  I am a pull yourself up by your own bootstraps kind of girl, and often I end up tired, frustrated, and depressed when the cost of doing it alone is higher than the benefit of doing it at all.  I had to start wearing glasses in second grade.  I hated them, but I needed them to see the board from my seat.  For four years (until I got contacts), I would try to wing it, "forgetting" my glasses on my nightstand like I didn't need them.  I would get to school, and totally feel like an idiot as I strained and tried to see but couldn't.  I would copy off my friends notes and said it was just easier to them.  Natural consequences to my own stubborn nature.  I also have seasonal allergies.  I have had allergy medication since middle school.  You would think since I have indoor and outdoor allergies that I would have started taking them daily, but I still find myself thinking, "oh they don't really help that much" and I don't take it, and then find myself sniffing, blowing, and being snotty the next day.  

What is it about me and so many others I work with that we don't want to admit we are broken?  Our bodies are broken, our spirits, our hearts.  Whether we are moms, teachers, counselors, friends, or just us, it doesn't matter the role, there is usually a dysfunction in there somewhere. 

After my grandmother died, a cousin of mine told me after the funeral my grandmother had confided in her that she was depressed and had anxiety most of her life.  While I think most people knew she was anxious because she wouldn't drive on the highway or do much outside of the house, I don't think anyone really examined how much this affected her every day life.  Looking back on how I knew my grandmother, I see the ways that depression and anxiety played a role from her willing to try new things, her rigidity on how she wanted things to be, her neediness and never feeling loved, her poor self image and always feeling unlovable, her depressive conversations about how everything was bad or lonely, etc.  We found out she started drinking vodka and hiding it, she smoked cigarettes all day, and she drank only caffeine.  And I started to ask myself lately, how are all of my emotions effecting me?  My life?  My relationships? and especially my self concept?

Outside of thinking I am never good enough and putting myself through an anxiety gerbil wheel of performance to feel better, I see where my body has often felt like it's always running on "E".  Times in college where I took diet pills so I didn't fall asleep in class even after getting 9 hours of sleep were one of the first times in my life I wondered why I was struggling when others weren't.  This had happened in high school, too, but it continued to get worse and worse.  There were times I didn't go out with friends because I just didn't have the energy to get ready and be out, but then I felt lonely and depressed sitting at the house alone.  Days when I procrastinated work, had trouble even reading a few paragraphs of a book because my mind drifted.  There were seasons where I was motivated to succeed in dieting and working out, but after a few weeks, I went back to feeling lethargic and worthless in my efforts.  I have struggled with stomach issues and feeling like maybe my thyroid or my hormones were off.  Test after test, I was in perfect health, so why didn't I feel good?  Why didn't I have the energy my friends did without a taken a Hydroxycut or drinking 2 large caffeine drinks a day?  During finals, I resorted to even lower means to try and focus.  I remember two years in particular where I took a friends Adderol on two occasions because I just couldn't retain what I was reading.  It helped, but I felt like I was cheating.  I felt like I was stupid.  I have always felt like there was something off, but "maybe I was just being too sensitive" or a hypochondriac...

My hope for this medication and for my life is that I can find a place where my insides stop shaking for every new experience even positive ones, my head can by clear and my vision of myself is positive most of the time.  I want my daughter to grow up seeing a mother who is energetic, funny, courageous, confident, loving, and giving.  I don't want her to head all those negative tapes in my head about my fat thighs, not being good enough, not being pretty enough, not having a clean enough house and my ugly body shape.  I don't want her to know the compulsive me who can't stop organizing or cleaning because I just "need to do one more thing" before I can play with her with my full attention.  I don't want to be irritable and snap on her because that day I just feel "moody".  I want to be consistent and I want the peace of God with me as I go throughout my day.

I have a friend also named Carrie I went to college with.  She is so energetic, confident, open, and willing to try anything.  She never seems to care what others think of her, and she never gets caught up in drama.  She has loads of friends, success at work, and is such a dependable person.  I always admired her for how she takes on the world and never seems to need help or be needy.  I know she comes from a good family, was raised in the church, and has good social support.  She is healthy, has good balance in her life, and while I know she's not perfect, she is such a model to me that you can live your life, treat people well, and not spend so much time caring about everyone else's opinion.  She carries herself in a way that it feels like she never worries, doesn't stay angry too long, and is always able to handle any situation. 

I have spent a lot of the last year and a half trying to find more of myself and who I want to be.  This taking an anti-depressant isn't a sign of weakness, because I don't trust God, or because I am trying to take a band-aid.  It's because I need to be able to better deal with my emotions so I can be someone in the world who doesn't project their sh*t on to everyone else.  I need to be someone who has feelings and opinions but doesn't fall apart if the world doesn't go by way.  Maybe I am too sensitive, not motivated enough, and easily angered, but why?  Is there more to that?  Does my glass ceiling have to stop at mediocre for emotional regulation?

So, this is an opportunity.  This is not a setback.  This is not some sad defeat where I have to admit that I need a prescription pill to feel good about myself.  This is an opportunity to see if the Serotonin levels in my brain are low enough that I have some mild emotional, cognitive and behavioral interference to being the best me I can be.  Guess I will keep you posted if Life on Lexapro is really all that different...

Refuge in the Storm...

There is something magical about sitting in silence listening to a thunderstorm.  Birds tweeting in their morning shower, thunder rolling in and out.  The rain beating on the roof, the side walk, the windows... There is no baby monitor on since baby went to daycare with daddy and I have a little time to stop and reflect before I need to get ready for my Real Moms group.  I don't get many moments like this and usually when I have them I clean, do some laundry, or start getting ready for work.  But there's something so peaceful to me about a thunderstorm, and man, is it coming down...

It's dark out because of the storm and I kept the lights low.  I think about how at peace I feel this morning which is such a change of pace.  I want to stay in this nook for awhile to recenter.  Usually, by Thursday morning I have clients lined up back to back, but with spring break decreases my load last week and this week, it's been good to see how just a few extra appointments a week can overload me. 

My anxiety has been a raging war since I had baby K, and while I manage and function, I have come to admit to myself that it's more than just the "adjustment to being a mom".  If a person came in and told me how I feel, I'd refer them to a doctor after some initial therapy.  So, I finally opened up and talked to my doctor about it.  I have medication at the pharmacy waiting...  I am contemplative about if I want to take this step.  I've been living stressed out, tired, unable to sleep, and struggling to be calm most days since she was born.  I have tried my therapy techniques, tried lowering stress, but unless I was on a beach with drink in hand and away from everyone, I think the knot in my stomach is there to stay.  I am not in the depths of depression like some women unfortunately face.  But I am not who I used to be.  I am much more internally agitated.  I am much more easily fatigued.  And even when I eat right, exercise, meditate, and have what feels like an easy load, I still find myself getting waves of intense panic, worry, feeling like I am missing something or doing it wrong, insecurity, racing thoughts...  That's why this blog has become my safe place to dump out all of the feelings and thoughts going on into my brain. 

I am so happy with my life and don't see why I should feel worried all the time.  Yesterday, I was just folding laundry and I got hit by this wave of uncertainty.  About nothing.  Instantly, my mind was racing and then the next thing I knew, I was feeling queasy again.  I get mad at myself like some how I should be smart enough to outsmart my feelings.  I try counting, deep breathing, thinking of a "safe place".  I try praying, listening to worship music, getting a drink.  At some point, life beckons, and I have to move on.  Still on edge, I find if I am doing a few different things all at once, I start to overload my anxiety with managing life, but in the end I just end up tired.  It's not about one area, and I can pinpoint one thought.  I just know I feel this intense, irrational twinge now and then that I am powerless to stop.  Sometimes just a day or two a week, sometimes for a few days all day long.  It just doesn't feel right...

Most of my therapist friends are on something... Zoloft, Prozac, Adderol, Lexapro....  Secondary trauma maybe to hearing and taking on so many people's brokenness and sharing in the broken places with people.  I always wondered how people do it for 30 years, full time.  Are they numb?  Are they crazy, too?  Until I started to share about my anxiety, I had no idea other therapists felt the same way at times.  I think the hormones of having a kid maybe just threw it all over the top for me.  And while I don't feel like I am in the wrong profession or overloaded, I do think I will have to practice a lot of self-care, which I suck at. 

I wish all moments felt this peaceful.  I wish time stopped for me more often so I could catch my breath, but the reality of our world is that brokenness doesn't stop.  Time doesn't stop.  Needs don't stop.  And we can neglect things and put them aside to rest here and there, but we always have to come back to it.  I am using this morning to mindfully refuel my own gas tank.  I pray anxiety leaves, and energy returns.  I pray peace is restored in my soul.  All afternoon I will be surrounded by the stories of people who need someone to intentionally listen and reflect to them, and I want to be a clinician who doesn't just show up.  I want to be a clinician that is present.  Someone who can feel and reflect and support my clients the way Jesus would support those who came to Him. 

I suppose even Jesus stopped, went away from the noise, and was just recentered in to a peaceful place, away from the anxiety and depression and brokenness of this world, and prayed to God to give Him strength to walk the journey ahead.  EVERY DAY... sometimes multiples time IN ONE DAY.  Jesus also didn't have a toddler :)

Psalm 34:18, 19 – The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (19) A righteous man may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all.

Toddlerhood... Beware!

I am starting to realize I am no longer the mother of a baby.  I realize she is growing older every day and I have had a hard time believing so much actually changes in a year.  There is something magical about that first year of life and all of that magic changes after they become independent toddlers.  All of the sudden, I am having to think harder about how I parent.  It's not as instinctual as it was before when it was all about feed, change, sleep, cuddle.  Now I am trying to teach things, listen, follow along, protect, and still feed, change, sleep.  Now days we cry just because we can't have what we want even if it is an electric cord going into the wall.  We cry when we are out of routine.  We cry in the stroller.  We cry getting our diaper changed.  We cry getting our face washed.  I know she's communicating... "No stop... I hate this stupid cars eat" and "I don't want to take my hands off the toilet" and "I want to throw my lunch on the floor for Macy"...  I just know she doesn't understand why she can't have it her way, and she's just expressing that frustration...

Toddlerhood is a different beast than infancy.  It causes me to think about my response and causes me to be mindful that while she's smarter and she can feel like she's trying to get to me, she's not yet that manipulative and she is still somewhat a baby. 

I think this period of transition from baby to child is so interesting and yet so messy.  It's hard to discern as a parant what is the right choice.  It's hard to weigh out, "not teaching her a bad habit" and "being sensitive to her needs".  Of course we, as parents, have a long laundry list of do's and don'ts during toddlerhood, but it feels more gray than "you should breastfeed" because it's better for your baby.  Now there  discipline techniques, sleep techniques, how to feed, how to toilet train, when to transition to a toddler bed, and what toddler shoes have been foot support.  I could read a 1000 books and end up just as confused but with more information.

Being a toddler is frustrating for both of us.  She can't talk in words I understand, and I am sure all of my words don't help explain away her frustration.  We try baby sign language all the time, but sometimes I am not sure we are communicating or just playing "copy me".  Following your gut to teach and love is much harder than it is when you have that tiny, spongy infant.  Some days I feel like we are doing great, and other days we just can't seem to get it right.  It's a messy dance of control and need and routine and love.  It's time consuming and energy draining.  It's love and hate and everything in between. 

We have had some challenging weeks, days, evenings, nights, mornings, and meal times.  We have how blown out diapers, hands in dog bowls, pee in car seats, poop all over, throw up all over, boogers that she refuses to be removed.  We have had styes in eyes and hair bows pulled out.  We have had food on the floor, spit on everything.  We have had spills, thrills, and the chills at one point. 

Being a parent changes everything.  Our leisurely weekends are now filled with swim lessons, park outings, zoo trips, and library runs.  We are trying to avoid television but are drawn to it.  We want to nap but can't seem to get rested.  We want to be healthy but crave eating crap.  Some days are magical, awesome, and so much fun.  It's like life on steroids.  It's always changing.  Just like her up and down moods, we are hanging on to the rollercoaster, and never know what's around the bend. 

I guess all we can do is cling on and pray or let go and enjoy the ride.  We can choose to laugh about the poop, throw up and pee... and spit and spit up and other bodily fluids or we can be upset.  We can encourage one another to keep going or allow misery to enjoy company.  Most days I think we do well letting God be in control and enjoying all parenthood has to offer.  But it's a ride, and it's an intentional choice to enjoy toddlerhood.  In those moments in the quiet restaurant where she screams bloody murder because she wants more of something we are out of or is just mad to sit in her high chair.  Those are those moments where my anxiety climbs into my throat and I have had to ask God to hold me while I hold her. Sometimes I get it under control and we all settle.  Sometimes I pay quickly and walkout flushed, tired, and on edge.  As she's learning, so am I.  I am learning with a Bachelor's in Child Development and a Master's Degree and Marriage and Family Therapy, even I am broken, messy, sinful and selfish at times as a parent.  Even I give ice cream just to sooth our pain.  Even I give in and give up at times.  We all try our best.  I have new respect for all parents because it's hard and some days it's survival.  I have to remind myself, I just have one child who no major issues.  I can't imagine what others go through...

To all those new mommys out there.... enjoy those quiet, sleepy afternoons.  Enjoy bottle or breast feeding quietly in the corner of the public place you are in.  Toddlerhood will soon arrive and all you can do is sit back, smile and enjoy the ride.  It's nap time again and I think I will take a moment to take care of me.  Never know when the ride will start up again :)

Welcome to Toddlerhood

She's up.  It's after 8, so I've had my coffee, but she's in her crib playing quietly to herself.  Occasionally, she lays back down and watches the fish swim in her ocean crib sound machine.  The busy day is about to begin.  I have last week's progress notes to write, a house to vacuum, daycare backpack to  pack for tomorrow, dinner to cook, three loads of laundry left from the weekend, and now, A TODDLER to wrangle.  When did she get so big?  Yesterday, she started to say "thank you" when we gave her things.  She says, "dog" when she see's a dog.  She's answering yes and no questions and saying, "all done" when she's finished with lunch (after she throws her food on the floor)....

My baby isn't really a baby anymore.  She looks like a baby when we go out and I see other toddlers.  But she's not a tiny, cuddly, needy infant anymore.  She screams in defiance when we change her diaper, she screams in delight on the swings.  She's walking around and getting into every item 3 feet and lower on a shelf.  We have 2-3 baby gates up all the time.  She's a woman on the move.



A few of my friends have just had babies in the last month or so.  They are so tiny.  So little.  So quiet and defenseless.  That phase is just so precious and so short.  While I'm happy I get to cook a meal, enjoy a cup of coffee, let the dog out without someone in my arms, I miss when K was so tiny that I just stared at her tiny little features as she slept.  I look at old pictures from last year where she had no hair and just those big baby blue eyes, and now... she's like a mini person...

I am not ready to get pregnant again.  I don't want to just get a "baby fix" by making more.  I love all of these news parts and features she can do.  I look forward to the zoo and the parks this year.  We are building a tiny relationship of baby babble and sometimes real words she has no idea she is saying.  But sometimes, I just want to wrap her up, like we used to... snuggle the afternoon away.  I miss watching her sleep in her swing.  Now, she's just always on the move.  Woman on a mission.

Ugh, I am so glad I was home for all of it.  I am so glad our little lives have changed so much.  I have had so many moments and memories.  Each day is another page of the book.  I have to take time to stop and watch her.   I want to soak her in.  She is my special lady and I love every moment... (except those few times of sickness, teething, gasiness, monster blow outs, screaming tantrums in public, and pulling my hair/earrings, etc).  It's amazing how fast toddlers learn and grow.  One day they are laying on the floor eating dog fur and carpet fibers, and the next day they seem to have a 30 word vocabulary and watch television shows and laugh at funny parts.  How does it all happen so fast?  Why can't this phase just last a little longer? 

She's a big girl.  I am a big girl now, too.  She's made me grow up.  She's made me realize what matters.  I no longer care that every hair on my head has been straightened, or if I got to work out, or if I finished everything on my to do list.  She's taught me to let go.  She's taught me to be messy.  She's taught me sometimes, it's not worth it.  She's taught me to ask for help.  She's becoming my favorite shopping partner.  She's been my walking buddy.  She's no longer this "baby", she's my daughter.  She is such a gift.  God has been so good to me.  I just can't believe how fast cells are divided and made.  I wish time slowed down.

Well K, here's to toddlerhood.  All that comes with it.   I know I am in for a ride.  We have just mastered walking independently... we still have running away, toilet training, eating with utensils, learning to take our diaper off, hair pulling, biting, and all the other fun things that are associated with toddlers.  But you're still pretty sweet.  You wave when I get your out of your crib in the morning.  You pet Macy so softly.  You lay your head down on your blanket on the floor when you're tired.  You sip through straws and scream, "YEAH!" when I ask if you love your daddy.  Just like the early days, there are high highs and those occasional moments where God is just checking for sure if I can let go and not be in control.   I am sure time will fly and I'll look back at these moments and remember how sweet they were.  Just please be kind K, and have short tantrums.  You have my permission to be your own little person just as long as I get to pick your outfits, you leave your bow in your hair, and you stop scratching me with the razor claws that keep growing back every 36 hours.  You've decided to go back to sleep.  A wise choice for someone who is about to take on the world.  It's another Monday, but you just keep getting older...

I AM

In the course of my life I have been called many things: fat, annoying, pretty, nice, caring, abrasive, loud, hard-working, risk-taking, anxious, confident, judgmental, structured, unstructured, a leader, sensitive, a good listener, encouraging, critical... etc. etc.  While I know I have grown up a lot, I have a hard time believing or even logically accepting that I AM all of these things.  I show these traits at times, but I AM Kerrie. 

The negative parts of myself I work on, I loathe, and I am self-conscious of.  I struggle to accept I can just be those things and still be ok with being me.  In the last week, I was told I was "scary" when I present myself because I am "so sure of who I am and what I want that its intimidating" and I was also told I was unstructured, "and would do better being in a place where my child can have more flexibility because I don't have a routine".  And the reality is that I think neither of those statements are who I want to be (or maybe even an accurate reflection of who I AM), and neither of those statements are who I see myself to be, but yet, that is how others saw me.

I have trouble believing I do things well.  I have trouble believing I can do things.  But I also know that I tend to go above and beyond the expectations and every goal I set, for the most part, I have made happen. 

I AM an interesting dichotomy of a person full of high and lows and gray areas in between. 
I AM stubborn, but patient...
I AM open but closed
I AM loving but honest
I AM giving but I can be self-fish
I AM loving but I can be needy
I AM smart but I AM ignorant
I AM extroverted but can feel lonely
I AM driven but also want a break
I AM passionate but can be agreeable
I AM loyal and loving but also hateful and judgemental

I AM Kerrie.  I wish I knew what parts of that had to still be filtered through and sifted through God's grace.  I wish I was always more self-aware and could just be ok with who I AM.  I am so many things that people love and love to hate.  I always wonder who I should be.  Who I should I have my daughter see.  Who should I be to my husband, my friends, and mostly my enemies.  I struggle to wrestle with selfish and selfless and I can be so forgiving and yet so vengeful. 

If I am this complicated, it confirms to me that theologically God is far past my comprehension.  If I AM such an enigma, then the God of the universe is that much more complex.  What I am trying to get to a point with is accepting that there are pieces of me that are broken and angry and hurt and pieces that are loving and fair but they are all beautiful to God and they should all be beautiful to me.  That while I should always excel to be the best that I can and make positive changes, I also have to stop and love and accept the person I am, right now, today, in this current moment. 

It is a hard thing to do.  To hold yourself in love but hate pieces of yourself enough to be motivated to change and work on them.  My greatest therapy are those moments where I realize the bigger picture.  I won't be loved by everyone, I won't always even love myself.  I won't always be liked.  But there are times I will come into someone's like and profoundly impact it for the better.  I will give people grace and love them well.  I will also fail them.  I AM not good or bad, I just AM.  And that is so hard for my black and white mind to comprehend.  That is so hard for me to accept.  I want to be white and clean and blameless.  But that is not what I AM...

Still Fat... Must Endure....

It's been almost 400 days since I had a baby.  My weight loss has plateaued since July.  I've been eating clean (for the most part) for the last 50 days and I have lost my "Christmas weight" but I am back to where I was in July before I went back to work.  I have 3 months until I go on my Turks and Caicos vacation for a friend's wedding.  All of my skinny, not yet mommy, friends will be there looking the same or better than they did in college.  Meanwhile, I am yet to find my scale returning to a normal range.  I've yet to return to my old J.Crew pants without a muffin top, and I've yet to feel like I have truly made progress.

So, again, I am stepping it up.  I started running this week.  Got my mile time down a minute and a half since I started.  I've continued to eat clean, but have replaced a meal with a veggie/fruit smootie with Chia seeds and almond milk.  I've eliminated cow's milk, beef, pork, enriched flour, processed foods, refined sugar, juice, cereal, potatoes.....  And nothing... no weight loss.

Last week I had the stomach flu for three days and I lost a pound, only to regain it after I started retaining the fluid.  I have started taking a "green coffee bean extract" twice a day to aid with metabolism. 

At this point, if I don't lose weight in the next month, I will return to my doctor and ask her to check my blood levels.  It doesn't matter how much I keep sacrificing, I just can't seem to make any progress.  I feel healthier on the inside, but I still stay flabby and fluffy around the edges.

I know I haven't done this weight loss thing perfectly.  Last weekend on my girls trip I had five bad meals in a row.  I maintained my weight. 

I prayed really hard today on the treadmill.  This isn't about being a "certain number", it's about feeling like I can regain control of my body.  It's about feeling confident in my outfits.  It's about being healthy.  With each sacrifice, I feel like a better me and that's wonderful.  It keeps me motivated to keep pressing on, but I just really wish the scale could reflect it too.  I really wish my pants from before pregnancy could contain my belly.  I wish that as the stretch marks have started to fade away that my weight would just disappear. 

I've been no my ideal weight since I was in third grade.  This isn't a new thing.  But I have 20-30 pounds the doctor feels I can lose before I'd be where I should be.  I just need to know what's wrong...  I just need to keep trying.  I just need to not give up on me. 

A daily reminder that I have so much about myself that God is still working on... inside and out.  I am growing in endurance.  Growing in patience for certain...  I am realizing that the journey is just as important as the end result.  It's making a difference in how I feed our family and what habits my child is developing.  We are active and enjoy getting to do fun things.  We just have to keep trying, keep pressing on...  I appreciate all the support I have had along the way. 

It's cool to see our American culture slowly developing a desire to be healthy and well.  My generation is getting so wise at going back to eating REAL food and being active.  Maybe part of this holding onto weight is so that this becomes our life style and we don't want to go back.  I am feeling that most days, but I'd sure love a Little Caesar's Crazy Bread about now, too.....

All part of the journey :)

Love Is...

Our assignment for my Real Mom's group has been to spend more time with the Bible and spend more time in communion with God.  I have been trying really hard to do that, but find myself busy, or making myself busy, maybe avoiding the "feelings" that usually come to the surface when I sit and reflect about myself and my life.  This week we were identifying our love languages and talking about our love tanks and I realized, maybe part of my problem is that I am so independent and stubborn that I rarely want to admit my tank is empty.

My father had this "general words of advice" about my gas tank when I got my car at 16.  He said, "DO NOT let your gas tank go under a quarter of a tank".  My dad worked 30 years in the auto industry and generally I assumed he knew what he was talking about.  I asked why, and he replied that it's better for the car not to run on the crud at the bottom of the tank and in winter a very low gas tank can freeze and cause engine problems.  I don't know how much of that is true.  I assume there is a fuel light for a reason...

Well, while I have never run out of gas, I have a lot of anxiety about my tank going under that 1/4 line.  I constantly want to know how many miles do I have left until I need to refuel.  I hate getting out in the cold and standing there for 3 minutes.  I wish it was just solar powered or plugged into the wall and didn't rely on fuel.  No such luck on our budget.

So why then, am I so blind to my own gas meter?  Why then do I forget to set boundaries with my time and energy so that I end up on "E" and then I can't love well?  I realize I have relationships in my life where I am so angry and bitter that I can't even hide my feelings.  I realize I can't just move forward with my life because I feel like I deserve justice, reconciliation, or even just a stinking apology.  I realized reading our weekly scripture that not only do I feel unloved by some people in my life, but I am also not loving well.  The Message version of 1 Cor. 13 is so honest and rich about the definition of love.  It says:

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,


Love is a lot of things that I struggle with.  I tend to want to close doors that are hard to deal with.  I get to a point in some relationships where I feel like I have loved, loved, loved and gotten nothing in return.  I spend hours thinking and being mindful and the other person does something without even considering how it affects me, and I get so put off by it that I just want to run and never deal with it again.  Yet, here I am a therapist trying to help people work through problems...  

Love doesn't force itself on others... I think sometimes I have to realize when I am feeling pushed or distressed.  Sometimes I want to say, "It's ok, I am fine" when I am really not.  I miss those opportunities to be real with people from the start because I don't want to hurt their feelings and then it all just comes out.  Almost too late most of the time do I get this sense that things are just too far gone to fix.  I should have spoke up.  I should have stopped trying to please everyone.  I should have drawn my boundaries earlier.  But I struggle to not let people force themselves and their junk on me.  I have stop feeling bad for others and letting them walk all over me...

"It isn't always me first"...  Well, lately it feels like it's NEVER me first...  It's KK first and Macy Dog first and laundry/dinner/dishes, or clients first.  Maybe me in there or Chris.  But then all the sudden I snap and I am just worn out and it becomes ALL ABOUT ME.  I give give give then when my tanks is on "E" I just stop running.  I hibernate in sweat pants.  I sleep.  I watch TV and play Candy Crush and I try not to be a slug but it's what I have allowed myself to be.  It isn't a balance.  It's all or nothing.  And then I end up being empty and shutting down.  

I think what started to make me angry was realizing "Why don't others love me this way?"  I am trying so hard to be loving but then I just snap and decide I can't do it anymore.  Why can't others love the way God loves?  And why is the balance of loving yourself versus loving others so hard?  It's not fair to anyone to be a people pleaser and then a bitter Betty because I didn't get any.  

While I appreciate God's view on love, I want to ask sometimes, "How do we love each other perfectly when we are all imperfect?"  How do we love with intentionality and unconditionally when we also have to take care of our selves?  Se,e I have no problem starting off on the right foot but then I get worn out.  I feel like I am selfish for saying no or bursting someone's bubble when they are hurting me.  I feel guilty for being real.  I don't want the tension.  But I desperately struggle to be ok with loving me enough to be honest and "flower in truth".  Flower in truth.... Flowers are beautiful, the truth is not always pretty to hear.  Doesn't God realize (or even Paul who wrote this letter) that if Love was "perfect" we wouldn't need to be reminded of how to love?  Here is my response...

Love is messy. 
It's not black and white. 
It is a balance of your needs and mine with the intention of no one winning
It's difficult to manage and often feels unfair
It's compromising on days when you're not sure you have anything to give
It's being honest but speaking the truth in love
It's being aware of your role and owning up to your junk
It's internally painful as we realize that we often want things that aren't possible
It's self-aware but also mindless
It's honesty but ignorance
It's up and down and sometimes just blah
Love is not so simple

I've sat with parents who love children who are so depressed they won't stop cutting.  I have sat with abused wives and girlfriends pleading for their partner to love themselves to get help.  I have sat with children in foster care who think love doesn't exist because no one has ever stuck around long.  I find so often that I am disappointed with "love" because so few people have the intention of mindfully loving in a balanced way.  Our pastor told us that Marriage isn't easy.  It's more hard conversations and sleepless nights sometimes than we imagine, but good marriage rise about and improve to love deeper and more healthily through becoming more aware of one another's needs.  Love is... really hard sometimes.  I have to pull back, retreat with the Lord, and wonder how I am really loving, where my love tank gauge is at, and what I need so that I can love others well.