Feeling Full in the Desert, a Prelude to Lent

I have been thinking about Lent, Jesus in the desert for 40 days.  He must have known to some extent the 40 days was just a period of suffering.  He must have known the ups and downs of his life, death and resurrection lead to glorious victory, however, sometimes I wonder how the Son of God handled being alone, suffering, and without.  I know my life experience is nothing to compare with life in an actual desert.  I have to deny myself certain foods for Lent because I am becoming dependent on them for emotional comfort.  So I by no means want to say that dealing with infertility and all the emotional/hormonal issues has any comparison to the Lord's 40 days, death, and persecution. 

I do however feel like I have been in my own metaphorical desert.  And starting the Lent season when you already feel like you have been wandering alone for the last 8 months, doesn't motivate me the same way it used to.  Lent to me used to be a challenge to show my faithfulness in a fun way.  I would add some devotionals into my life, stop eating sugar, maybe give up soda, and then gleefully go about my life.  I think our "first world edition" of Lent is often that way.  Give up a tiny idol from our alter and joke about missing it for 40 days.  But what if before those days, God allowed many of those idols to already be destroyed?  What if you come to the desert already thirsty?

I have been hungering to feel God in the midst of all of this loss and pain.  Last week's fertility appointment led to us delaying our fertility treatments due to two large cysts discovered on my right ovary.  I was so hopeful that Chris and I discerned the right thing.  See a month ago, I went alone to my first visit back to the fertility doctor who treated my endometriosis before having KK.  A talk of fertility medication was discussed but not decided on.  In talking with my sister, we discovered that the $1500 medication that I needed to purchase for these treatments was the same one she used.  And ironically there was a full unused dose of it in her refrigerator.  Insurance had paid for it last year and it was still good to be used.  It left Chris and I with very little expense to try this route and the prayers we had been lifting up felt answered. 

Then at church, they asked for an offering.  We decided to give the $1500 to the church because here we felt we had an answer about using the medications.  I felt so hopeful last Sunday, and so hopeless by Monday afternoon...

It's not that the situation is hopeless.  There are two walnut sized sacs sitting in my right abdomen keeping us from getting pregnant the last few months.  It explains why I felt crazy, oily, hormonal, crampy, and even pregnant at times in the last few months, but it is a road block for our family growing.  I never realized just how much I could want something until I got pregnant with Kaylie.  When I found out I was having a healthy baby girl at 20 weeks, my heart opened and exploded with love.  And now all I really want out of this phase of my life is to continue to create more of that love.  It's a hunger like nothing I've ever known before.  I am so hungry...

And then I realize this is only a taste of what Jesus experienced.  Because He knows my brokenness, and yours, and everyone elses, He carried that burden and died to redeem it.  If we even know just a hint of Jesus's life and the Gospel is true, our suffering is a mere grain of sand to the emotional and spiritual warfare that He endured for us.  And not only am I humbled, but I am on my face in reverence.  I am quiet with my prayers for a moment.  I have one area of brokenness in my life, but God has endured them all. 

I realize in day 2 of Lent that there is a purpose to this suffering.  Hind sight will be 20/20.  These days of hunger and fasting do in fact show our faithfulness, but sometimes our Lent season is not one we create, it's one created for us.  And I am trying my hardest to not get tempted in the desert to go back to my old idols for comfort, but sadly, I have started to realize that I am going back to them, all the time, every day because for a moment they provide a tiny bit of joy.  I have gained 25 pounds since my miscarriage.  I am back to what I weighed after I had KK, and it crushes my heart.  Because it is a physical symbol that I am hurting and looking for comfort in physical things.  It's the reality that the effects of that comfort are only temporary because for the last 8 months I kept going back and back for more and more of it each day.  Yet, it has provided no real comfort or joy.  It's effects are fleeting but yet, I surrender to the more and more as time went on.  I would have moments where I regained control, but then another hard day would hit and I would "reward" myself with food for "making it through the day".  And I kept growing larger and larger.  Now my post pregnancy pants are tight, and I humbling ask myself in the mirror, "when are you going to realize that this isn't working for you?"  It's not peace, it's a distraction to coming to God.  I need a desert.  I need to be stripped of this comfort.  Because if one things goes wrong in my life, and I can't come to God with it, then what is my faith really consist of?  Am I only going to truly experience you when I get my way?  Am I only faithful when I am full?

So now I have decided that for Lent my journey is to think about that.  I have stripped away those comforts, added in self care, but mostly, I have tried to start turning to God for that hunger.  I have started once again to surrender my sin of over indulgence and tried to lift up my hurts rather than eat them up.  And so in a sense, I am doing whatever one else is, "I am giving up carbs, processed food, coffee creamer, milk, fried foods, sugar, pop, and flour", but what I am really giving up is my earthly security blanket.  I am trading my sorrows for God's peace.  Because if I learned anything about Jesus's life is that He heals, He honors, and He redeems even the most driest desserts.  Sometimes not with what we expect, but in time I know I will get out of this desert and start to move forward.  Whether that means we have a baby or we start the adoption process or we become at peace with the one little, miraculous angel baby that He provided to us.

40 days is a blink of time if you think about it.  In the moment we can focus on what we aren't having, or we can try to zoom out and think of the big picture.  This practice of self-denial whether it be intentional or given to us is refining our faith if we allow it.  We just have to move all those easier- to-worship idols out of the way to find the real comfort, the real peace, and the real hope which is Christ.  

So fellow Lenters (if that's even a word), I hope your journey through the desert is plentiful, not necessarily in getting what you want, but finding peace with God amongst the darkest and most difficult moments.  It's day 2 and I am already feeling some fruits of that fullness. 

Breathless and Empty

And I sat there numb.  Wanting out.  Wanting to be anywhere but where I was.  And I realized in that moment that I am in this place frequently.  Like I showed up for work, an appointment, or with a friend, and I am there but I am not.  Like all the emotion is sucked out of me, and it's not that I don't care, but I don't care.  If I had to pick anywhere else I would be, I wouldn't have an answer.  There isn't this secret obsessive dream I am having where I am on a beach or in a coffee shop.  I just don't want to be here.  There is no reason to feel this weak, I just feel like the life blood has been sucked out of me, and I some how still show up, but I came in an empty shell of a body.

I feel like a shell of who I used to be, and people say they notice.  "You're so calm" or "you seem to isolated".  And those wouldn't have been words I would ever used to describe myself, alas, it's how I feel today.  Maybe it's that I am taking hormones the last few days.  Maybe it's because I am at a loss of words to describe the pain it feels to want to get pregnant but I can't.  Maybe it's the mundane of this life that I am finally getting used to.  My life is no longer a series of unpredictable home visits or McDonald's trips with inner city youth.  But some how I highly doubt that even if I were in the thick of adventure that I would feel like myself. 

I dread the lime light, the effort anymore.  I have been content to maintain my life at this point, but yet, I yearn for something more.  And I don't think that it's because I don't have a good relationship with the Lord.  I don't think I am clinically depressed.  I don't think I am falling apart or in need of something, but I am just different.  I am just empty.  I can put on a face and run the show, but I have struggled to find my joy lately.  I have struggled to be content.  I look at those cute little baby pictures of Kaylie and I am remembering those moments in the hospital where alone I fed her and listened to Adele while Daddy slept on the make shift bed. Those moments where I kissed her super soft little head and smelled that new baby smell.  Those snorts and short breaths that only come from babies were the only conversation we had.  Becoming a mother was like making a dream come true.  But as all mothers say, the time goes by so fast.  I look at my dancing, running, talking little person and while that love is still there, there is a longing to fall in love all over again.

Last summer, I heard that fast paced baby heart beat on the ultrasound and my heart jumped with joy.  I was scared and nervous to have two babies, but it felt like my dream life was continuing to unfold.  Marry a wonderful man, buy a house, adopt a dog, have a child, and start my practice.  It was like everything wonderful continued to unfold into my lap and I sucked it all up knowing each and every day was a blessing.  It just felt like pure abundance and it was so much happiness. 

To lose that, well, it was like the wind stopped blowing and the life of the room was sucked away.  And even when I think of it still, I have to catch my breath.  Because after so many moments of joy, I had forgotten what sorrow felt like.  And now, here I am, day 2 of some hormone pills and it all slams into my head like a distant memory coming alive again.  Yesterday was my baby's second birthday and she is a a beautiful edition of that tiny little babe I fell in love with two years ago.  I miss her snorts and that high pitched newborn cry.  And while I was so very intentional about enjoying every moment of her infancy, I still can't help but grieve that my plan of having another has not come to pass yet. 

I know I am not hopeless.  I know that months from now, this blog could be just a blip in time, but today, filled with progesterone, I am some what of a sappy, quiet, broken mess.  Quiet and still because I feel like how can I grieve when I have so much to rejoice over?  None the less, I grieve.  None the less, I feel like something is missing from my heart, all while knowing my heart is full.

So I guess I just acknowledge my hurt and my joy.  I guess I just remember and hold tight to what I know to be true.  I guess I stop ignoring the hurt and just hold on to it.  Not because by holding it that it helps, but because by denying it, it's also not helping.  At least then, I stop feeling guilty for not having it all together.  At least then I know that I am just sad because I lost something I thought I had.  While it doesn't mean I won't love again, and it doesn't mean that I don't love now, it means that I acknowledge that love that was starting to form just from hearing those little heart beats.  And whether that heart be a person, a soul, or just a group of cells that lived momentarily, I still experience those moments of emotion where they were something.  It's a moment I hope I get to experience again, that joy and fear all at the same time.  Because being a mother is the greatest gift, the greatest joy, and yet also the greatest sadness I have ever had. 

I know some of my momma friends who are right there with me.  Maybe their grieve is expressed differently, but it's powerful.  It's draining.  It's a longing.  It's a lament to God for a chance.  It's the longing my single friends passing the 30 year mark press on through.  It's the moments where you realize your parent is still dead, or that you failed a life long project.  It's a failed marriage or the reality that you messed up big.  It's raw loss.  It's powerlessness.  It's meager hope.  It's empty.  It's a vessel that you feel you become in those moments where the thing you're missing grow in significance.  It's the moment where you can't breathe.  It's wishing you were any where but no where at the same time.  And it's realizing that you have to keep moving, or you'll stop.  So you wrap up.  You put it back into a box, on the tallest shelf of your heart.  I had a moment of grief, but now I go back to life.  This is the depth of myself that no one sees, but it's always there.  Too painful to visit for very long, so I am going to tuck it back away again.  Until that next breathe returns, I grieve, I listen, I wait for God to come back in and fill that empty me with his Spirit.  Help me Lord to be filled...

With Hope... Good Morning...

 

Back in the fall I wrote a blog about waiting for the seasons to change.  I had a bad summer, one filled with loss and sickness.   The past summer was such a contrast to the bountiful year I had prior with having a miracle baby and getting my business off the ground.  I thought some how that maybe the seasons of my life and the seasons of the earth would correlate, but that in a sense was wishful thinking.  It's been a rough summer, fall and even winter.  It feels like despite my effort to remain positive there are days where there is blow after blow.  So much is changing but feels like crumbling, not that season of change for the positive that I was hoping for.  And it's not one area of life or one situation, it's several.  But as I look at the lives of people I work with and mentor, I recognize we are all in that place.  That agonizing journey filled with moments of struggle, moments of joy, and moments of uncertainty.  It's not me and a bad season, it's that up hill climb.  It's that waiting place.  It's the reason I started this blog...

I called this blog Waiting for the Sun to Rise for a reason.  It was parallel to a trip to Hawaii where we climbed a really difficult hill in hopes of seeing the sun rise on the horizon at like 4:30 in the morning...  I thought I was in shape, but quickly became tired and hopeless that we would not make it in time.  We ran the bottom of the hill, quickly became out of breath and I struggled the rest of the way.  Meanwhile, for Chris it was a breeze.  He encouraged me, gave me space to pause and focused on helping me, but I was humbled that morning and realized how much life is a journey with few resting places and more twists and turns than it appears from the base of the mountain. 

And the reality is that it doesn't get easier to have day after day of disappointment and struggle.  It doesn't feel good to be in a place of ambivalence.  It doesn't ease the anxiety of ones heart to be still.  But sometimes moving forward doesn't feel like progress either.  It's a damned if you do and damned if you don't in some places.  Not sure if I am going up or down.  Do I try to lose weight or wait?  What do I let go for stress purposes but hold on to so I feel fulfilled?  Who is helping me and who is just taking from me?  It's a lot of thinking, a lot of just putting one foot in front of the other, and sometimes it's a choice to stay focused that this hill will yield the joy that I am climbing it for. 

I have been trying to get pregnant again for 8 months.  After a long dinner conversation with an old friend also struggling in this area, we sternly summarized this journey with "this just sucks".  With each passing month, each passing day sometimes, we don't know what our bodies, our God, and our lives will hold.  Maybe this month, maybe this time, maybe....  Another fork in the road or another dead end becomes a choice to give up or a choice to find new strength.  This endurance developed could be seen as a blessing but say that to the one on the road.  It's only in hind sight that we see the blessing in the struggle.  Only when we reach the top that we truly understand the big picture.  So what do I do with today?

I have been a long time fan of Maya Angelou.  I read several of her books and love the depth of her words.  Her metaphors are laden with heart filled meaning.  I remember logging into a computer program as a child and hearing, "with hope, good morning".  Maya wrote this poem, the Inaugural Poem, and the poem, especially the last part is so descriptive of where I am today:

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

 

This is where I am with this journey.  Where I am with continuing to feel like I am losing every step of the way.  But I have hope.  Every passing day.  I wake up with hope.  I hope that continues the rest of my days.  No matter the darkness, that I still am greeted by the light.   We are all able to stop each morning and chose to find hope.  But we have to find it, say it, proclaim it.  We have to find grace that our journey comes with pain.  We, and especially I, have to accept that God doesn't give me a big picture, a map, or even a cold water bottle half way up this mountain.  All I get is the hope of knowing that there is a top, there is an end.  God's grace won't be revealed until that time, so each coming day is just another step up that hill.  Sometimes I will see whats ahead and sometimes I will  just have to trust that His Grace of Sufficient... 

So... with hope, Good Morning, friends....

full poem :  http://poetry.eserver.org/angelou.html

The Honest Truth...

The one adjective that people continue to describe me with is honest.  Sometimes they will say, "you don't sugar coat things" or "you just say how you feel don't ya", and my response has usually been a self-conscious and guilty, "yeah, sorry".  When I let myself go in a session with a client or over a cup of coffee with a friend, there comes a point in conversations where I just let go and words flow out.  Sometimes they are challenging.  Sometimes they are critical.  Sometimes they are just assumptions or guesses.  Most of the time when I am way off, people say, "no that's not it" and I think eh, ok.  But when I hit a cord, people stop.  Sometimes they cry.  Sometimes they nod.  Sometimes they light up.

When you're so honest with someone that they feel like you understand them, people melt.  They form a bond.  They feel like true friendship.  It's vulnerable and yucky in moments but its so real and authentic... and I just happen to LOVE it.  I've described them as moments where I feel like the Holy Spirit sweeps under the door and fills the room.  Usually I get warm fuzzies or heated cheeks.  Time slows.  It's magical in a way.  It's deep and raw and messy, yet it's divinely comforting.  It's exhausting as every fiber of me becomes connected with them, but that's the kind of therapy that I feel like is life changing.

I always wanted someone to just listen to me and really listen.  I don't always want some simple advice or old time metaphor for my situation.  Sometimes, like in the darkest times in my journey, I just wanted someone to sit with me and reach in the depth of my brokenness and hold it.  I wanted to hold it together so it didn't feel so alone.  And in some of my most powerful moments in my own therapy, I realized that some people really are capable of fore-fitting their own agenda and just being present with the pain.  Sometimes its those moments of reflection in that broken place where someone shines a light on the darkness and it's power just goes away.  The intensity of the pain and the depth of brokenness in my life has often been met with someone truly sitting with it with me and saying some simple profound truth about how shitty or crappy a moment is. 

I've ended friendships because of lies.  I have learned to separate my heart from hurtful people, but in the contrast, I have come to truly treasure God's gift to me of sharing truth.  Not my truth, but his, in those moments where I come to work well rest and able to just be present.  I know healing can occur for every lost soul in this space if they want it.  I know God's power works through me.  I have HOPE that each and every person in this world can sit with His truth and their own truth and recognize just what is really happening in this life.  In our life stories we are able to hide from truth, avoid truth, change truth or fight it.  We have a choice to stop the movement and stop the self-seeking temporary addictions of our heart and just feel what is in our heart. 

Today, I am aware that I want to be loved.  I want someone to see me as beautiful and perfect in his image.  I want to be enough.  I want authentic real love that is self-less at times.  I want passion and deep connection.  In our world I get so much cheap interaction and fake friendships.  I just want to have something different.  Even if that means that my circle shrinks and I insulate myself to a select short list of people, I want honesty.  I want to be real.  I want to feel real. 

I was reading 1 Peter: 2, and I got this profound sense that God has healed my heart.  God was real with me and God has been there in the darkest moments.  I had to stop living in my own brokenness and my own pattern of avoidance to see the truth.  Now that I have that truth, I can't seem to want anything else but real, true, sustainable life.  I want that in my relationships, I want that in my work, in my love.  I want my heart to be intentional and pure.  I want to let God continue to nourish me.  I want to continue to come to the fountain so I can continue to fill others up with truth...  I have spent the last few days recognizing how old patterns of living have pulled me from the truth.   The darkness of this world still has moments where it consumes me, so today my prayer is that I continue to turn to him and be filled.  Turn each day.  Be filled each day.  And to be honest with myself about the goodness he continues to give to me....

1 Peter 2 The Message (MSG)

2 ^1-3 So clean house! Make a clean sweep of malice and pretense, envy and hurtful talk. You’ve had a taste of God. Now, like infants at the breast, drink deep of God’s pure kindness. Then you’ll grow up mature and whole in God.

The Stone

^4-8 Welcome to the living Stone, the source of life. The workmen took one look and threw it out; God set it in the place of honor. Present yourselves as building stones for the construction of a sanctuary vibrant with life, in which you’ll serve as holy priests offering Christ-approved lives up to God. The Scriptures provide precedent:

Look! I’m setting a stone in Zion,
    a cornerstone in the place of honor.
Whoever trusts in this stone as a foundation
    will never have cause to regret it.

To you who trust him, he’s a Stone to be proud of, but to those who refuse to trust him,

The stone the workmen threw out
    is now the chief foundation stone.

For the untrusting it’s

. . . a stone to trip over,
    a boulder blocking the way.

They trip and fall because they refuse to obey, just as predicted.

^9-10 But you are the ones chosen by God, chosen for the high calling of priestly work, chosen to be a holy people, God’s instruments to do his work and speak out for him, to tell others of the night-and-day difference he made for you—from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted.

^11-12 Friends, this world is not your home, so don’t make yourselves cozy in it. Don’t indulge your ego at the expense of your soul. Live an exemplary life among the natives so that your actions will refute their prejudices. Then they’ll be won over to God’s side and be there to join in the celebration when he arrives.

^13-17 Make the Master proud of you by being good citizens. Respect the authorities, whatever their level; they are God’s emissaries for keeping order. It is God’s will that by doing good, you might cure the ignorance of the fools who think you’re a danger to society. Exercise your freedom by serving God, not by breaking the rules. Treat everyone you meet with dignity. Love your spiritual family. Revere God. Respect the government.

The Kind of Life He Lived

^18-20 You who are servants, be good servants to your masters—not just to good masters, but also to bad ones. What counts is that you put up with it for God’s sake when you’re treated badly for no good reason. There’s no particular virtue in accepting punishment that you well deserve. But if you’re treated badly for good behavior and continue in spite of it to be a good servant, that is what counts with God.

^21-25 This is the kind of life you’ve been invited into, the kind of life Christ lived. He suffered everything that came his way so you would know that it could be done, and also know how to do it, step-by-step.

He never did one thing wrong,
Not once said anything amiss.

They called him every name in the book and he said nothing back. He suffered in silence, content to let God set things right. He used his servant body to carry our sins to the Cross so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing. You were lost sheep with no idea who you were or where you were going. Now you’re named and kept for good by the Shepherd of your souls.

Life without Lexapro

The time has come to ween off Lexapro.  We are trying to have another baby and I am trying my best to take out all the extra chemicals in my diet and life to have a healthy vessel for pregnancy.  After a miscarriage this summer, I had sort of stopped trying to focus on being healthy.  I gained back 15 pounds from my low which was pretty much heart breaking.  Not so much because I am fatter, but because once again I allowed food to be a comfort at the cost of me. 

The Reason:
In the last few months, a lot has happened in my life.  Probably too much to condense into a manageable blog post, so I won't try, but I think most young moms go through a phase where it just feels like their lives are going 90 miles an hour with twists and turns after ever moment where you almost feel like you're catching your breath.  While my practice is functioning at double capacity, I am stressed with personal life issues, and it feels like I can't keep up, I decided, "hmm maybe now is a good time to ween off the one chemical support that's shown improvement".

Ah..  Being a mom is hard.  With autism and a number of physical and mental disabilities having unknown causes, I don't have the heart to take Class C medications at the risk of my child having a life long condition.  I have come to accept I have anxiety, probably clinically significant.  Probably more clinically significant than I want to admit most days.  But I feel selffish not trying to tough it out so that a baby can have a healthy place to grow.

The Withdrawal:
For me, I was confirmed by this phase that I was making the right decision.  48 hours after reducing my dose, I felt like I was hit by a bus.  This phase lasted about 10 days.  I went from 10mg daily to 10mg every other day per the doctors recommendations.  Within 48 hours, I felt way worse.  I was queasy, couldn't sleep,  and those thoughts... the crazy bunny trail ones when I lay in bed, returned.  Instead of a few minutes to fall asleep, hours crept by.  I added some Melatonin for a couple weeks.  It was in these days I realized I was making the right choice; if this withdrawal was this hard on my adult body, how hard would it be on a fetus?

Three weeks later, I am still taking 5mg every other day.  Every time I try to stop completely, I get dizzy.  It's like that feeling you get when your drunk and the room is getting spinny and you might throw up or fall over...  Essentially, I have been on a hang over since three weeks.  But that part is getting better.  That part occurs a lot intensely in moments when I probably should eat but I feel sick or nothing sounds good. 

And then I realize all the sudden I am back to craving sugar to cope.  I am not sure the connection between anxiety and sugar but I find at least for myself that the more anxious I am the more likely I am to want anything with sugar: my fru fru coffee creamer, a pop, bread, a cookie, or mac n cheese.  Maybe that part of my brain lights up with momentary comfort from the sugar when I am anxious, and I realize this isn't the only withdrawal that needs to happen.

The Next Phase:
Now that I am almost done with Lexapro, I recognize I can go into an anxious downward spiral.  I can't become frantic with cleaning and micromanaging again.  I can't go back to mindless eating and self-soothing through food.  If I am to be in control of my anxiety, I have to be mindful about the decisions I make.  For some people, this is easy.  Change diet, exercise, and take care of yourself, find balance, but for someone with anxiety, depression or any mental health or physical disability, this is not easy.  I know what the right foods are to energize me.  I know the right foods to avoid anxiety.  I know the fuel thats required. I know the body is healthier with exercise.  I know I should run or do a 20 minute workout tape.  I know that I should take deep breaths and practice relaxation and meditation.  I know I should read the Bible and pray.  I know I should be patient with KK and try to have sex regularly with my husband.  All of these things are good things, but sometimes I don't want to do the good things... 

What if wellness isn't as easy as it seems?  What if will power and self assurance don't just come when you put your mind to it?  What if every ounce of fighting mentally still leads to a place where you don't meet your goals?  What if after all of this effort, I end up crashing and failing again and again and again.?

I have two choices.  Get sucked into the vortex of anxious worry and self-defeat  or I choose today, this moment, to get back on track. 

So...

I clean out the pantry and dust off the canisters of flax seed and chia seeds. 
I rid our lives of the comfort food. 
I let it go, not because I have no will power, but because I have to realize that it can't have a place in my life. 
I have to stop letting myself be taken advantage of in my time, and I have to ignore the calls, turn off the ringer, and just be present with my kid. 
I gather laundry, and sort out mail instead of retreating to my bed. 
I think about how to plan out my day so I don't try to do it all and stress myself out. 
I pet the dog... tell her she's beautiful, because she likes it and I like it, too. 
I drink a glass of water when I crave sugar. 
I pray God would be my source. 
I take deep breaths. 
I try to picture a peaceful beach. 
I drop the Melatonin and accept that I will just have to push through these sleepless nights. 
I am done with coffee.
I am done with desert. 
I plan my trip to the grocery store...
I think about what I can have, not what I can't.
I give myself grace that running after a toddler at a grocery store might not be Jillian's Shred but for today, it is what I can do.
I pray that I stay consistent and don't grow weary.
I sit on this blog and I try to be mindful that I can do this.
I recognize that I haven't blogged much since my anxiety went away with Lexapro and maybe my struggle will re-emerge, but maybe by struggling out loud I can touch someone else who struggles... (I know you're out there other momma who is sitting during nap time about to collapse and wonder why you feel so sad even though you have the life you've always dreamed of. )
I can push myself this time to not isolate and suffer alone because I have found there are so many of us on this journey.


You don't have to be a momma.  You don't have to be jobless, hopeless, or helpless to struggle.  You can have anxiety, depression or a myriad of things you battle and still be well.  It doesn't mean you don't struggle.  It doesn't mean you don't need love and encouragement.  I know the last thing I want from anyone is, "aww, poor girl, struggling to have a baby and struggling with all these feelings".  No, all I need is "you got this girl, and on those days when you struggle, know God is holding you and I am rooting for you".  Sometimes all I need is the reminder that I have a choice.  I get to consume or be consumed by these feelings.

Actually, I feel pretty blessed to have recognized, admitted and been so intent on treating this.   It's not perfect, but it's manageable, and many times bitter sweet to hold so many emotions in this broken and hurting world.  I texted a busy mom client to remind her to give her child a new medication tomorrow on my way in.  She told me, "you really care about me, you have no idea how much it meant that you remembered us and to text me".  Of course I did.  Of course I remembered.  Because God made me "overly sensitive" and "overly emotional" maybe even in that curse there is something beautiful about it.

The nice part about life without Lexapro is my feelings are intense.  I am not numbed by increased Saratonin.  I feel deeply.  I don't feel quite as stoic.  I feel so many things, so much more intensely.  Now the trick will be containing it.  Maybe this time, I can remember what it feels like to be at peace and try to find it.  And worst case, I go back onto it.  I surrender to my own brokenness.  But today I choose to fight.  Today, I will live life without Lexapro....

Overcoming Brokenness

Had a lot of moments lately where I am reminded how good my life is.  Good marriage, family, home, job, friends, church, relationship with the Lord and pretty good health.  I have it all.  At 29, I have it all.  I have everything I NEED and more.  Sure, I want a new kitchen floor, a trip to Fiji and Bora Bora, but I have all I need to be content...Philippians 4:11.

In recent outreaches with those less fortunate, I realize the lessons I was taught about hard work, delayed gratification, honesty, and needs vs wants from my parents got me where I am.  I realized those were values that allowed my parents to be successful, and their parents, and their parents.  I've been reading a lot in the articles on facebook about the on-going oppression for other races and socio-economic groups.  I agree there is not a level playing field.  We are divided into several different cultures, and sometimes even a city block is the difference between these people groups.  We are one nation and one city, but two very different ideologies.  More like several different ideologies.  And while I sit here comfortable with my life, I recognize and almost feel guilty that there is a population going hungry, a population without health care, a population without Christ, and populations of brokenness beyond things money can repair.

I can't say that I didn't work for what I have.  I worked hard in college and grad school.  I found scholarships and went without fancy things.  I chose to avoid drugs and excessive drinking, so I could focus my time.  I studied, learned, went to class every day.  But before that, my parents instilled in me that anything else was unacceptable.  We weren't going to be a family of drug users or a family of lazy kids.  We earned an allowance and we were corrected and rebuked when we lied, cheated, or didn't work our very best.   There is value to that parenting that has no dollar amount, and a value to that commitment to the next generation that money and programs cannot buy.

As I look into the faces of the next generation, I see a lot of children who have been their parents second, third or even last priority.  Sometimes I have worked with children who parented their siblings and even their parents before they were out of elementary school.  Brokenness negates brokenness.  I think the only exception to that is those rare kids that have a passion in them for life.  Those kids who say, "I want better" and they seek out support, mentors, and leave behind what they used to know.

I think, and this is solely my opinion, that our nation has lost it's true American Dream to "pull yourself up by your boot straps" and work for a better reality.  Instead, families often utilize social support as a social crutch and hand out without regard for the sacrifice that it takes a nation to provide those supports.  And while the social stigma to use social supports has decreased so many families are utilizing the help that's out there, there is another continuum of people who doesn't know life without those supports.  There continues to be a disparaging gap between being able to make it and not.  And while those supports are necessary for many life long, most people in our country and our world are healthier, happier and feel more passion for life when they are working and doing something in life that they were created to do even it means that they don't make a ton of money.  (I am aware there is a percentage of people that work super hard and still can't afford to live without these supports and that's another population and social issue that I am not referring to).

I worked with a beautiful single mother at one of my inner city schools.  She had her son early in life and the dad wasn't around to help.  He had "his own family".  But she worked two jobs and went to college to provide for him.  She never once asked me for support financially.  But I saw how hard she worked for her and her son, so I found people to sponsor him for Christmas.  I felt so much compassion for this mother because she turned to her faith and quietly went about her life trying her best.  She was open to help but didn't depend on it.  She was willing to take suggestions and she followed directions well and I saw so much growth in her son's behavior because of it.  She knows the Lord, depends on him, and wants a better future for her son.  She was so appreciative but she didn't see the help as a dependence.  She saw it as a gift and she was open to taking it but didn't come back wanting more and more until the well was dry.  And that made me want to help her even more.

There are millions of people in the world who struggle.  I see at least a half a dozen in my office every day, but I wish I knew why God doesn't light a passion in all of us to try to help one another, love one another, work hard, so we can have our best life.  Today, I am thankful for all I have been given, but I mourn for those who don't realize what they have.  We all have the power to make our lives better.  We all have the power to see the world however we want.  And we all have the power to have the life we dreamed of.  Some people will have to work harder, but it makes the reward all that much sweeter.

The No Luck Summer

Since I was a child, summer was hands down my favorite season.  I love to swim, love to be in the sun, love to be active and love to usually be off the busy routine and just have fun.  This summer has been one of the worst outside of junior year of high school when I got a crazy eye infection and didn't make the soccer team.  And this one might be quite worse than that if I let myself admit just how hard it really has been.

It all concluded today when my mommy friend and I attempted to have our last pool day before she goes back to work at a school.  When we arrive early we sat down at the park to play until the gates opened.  The kids were excited, lunches packed, pool bags ready and sunscreen on when as the minutes passed 11am, the doors never opened.  After about 15 minutes, a woman at the park said, "you all waiting for the pool?  They decided to close it for the rest of the summer....."  WHAT?!  Its freaking August 4th and you are closing the pool that we have passes to...  That's a metaphor for the summer.  A build of excitement and a fast let down.

We are still sick with some viral infection that's now bronchitis.  Not contagious so I can rejoin the public but none the less annoying that I can't go five minutes without coughing and I can't sleep through the night.  We lost the baby.  We lost so many pool days to rain and cold weather.  We lost our health so we couldn't go to the zoo or story hour at the library.  My first summer with a toddler and we spent the majority of it napping, staying hydrated, and sterilizing the house.  And now on a beautiful day, we return home from the park with an unused pool bag and dry suits on. 

The kids are starting to go back to school and I keep thinking, "no no no it can't be over".  We missed out.  I will have to wait another 9 months to get into a pool.  Another nine months to have my teacher friends home to play with.  Another 9 months to get day time appointments on my work days so I can get home early.  Another 9 months until I get home before dark.  Another 9 months until the world slows down and we just chill and have fun.  This was such an anticipated time for rest and restoration but it instead became the low point of the year.  Anyone else have one of the deserts that you walk through and it just feels like you will never get relief?

So, all I can do is look forward to another season.  In the fall, which is my second favorite season, I make goulash, and decorate for fall holidays.  I wear sweat pants and we have bonfires.  The leaves change and there's football and my mom's group starts up again.  My niece and nephew are due and there is still plenty of nice days to go for walks, play outside, and enjoy my flowers.  I know eventually this infection will go away.  I will get well, and we will get ready to try to have another baby.  God will provide space for healing and I know I will get restored.  The reality is that life has these seasons of joy and sorrow.  We have times all of our dreams come true and times that we just have to watch the minutes pass.  There are times we are blessed with fun experiences and times where we merely just survive. 

I guess summer is ending.  Once the pool closes it's all down hill.  But I can't keep holding on to all I have lost or missed this summer.  I have so many good times ahead.  There is so much joy that awaits.  I just want so badly to feel well again.  I just want so badly for our home to be healthy. I just want our little life back.  I guess until then, I will just be thankful for all that we have been given because there's no point in being sad about all the misfortune.  It will only make a sad day sadder. 

Eventually all deserts end and lead into gentler climates.  I can't just lay down and accept this is my reality.  I will keep walking (and taking vitamins, probiotics and all those healthy things) and I know we will march into a calm pasture eventually.  So, goodbye "no luck summer", I hope we never see you again.  I hope we have a hopeful harvest this fall and are reminded of God's goodness, grace, and mercy.   We certainly are ready to feel well again.