Finding Peace in the Struggle

"We've all fallen, and we have the skinned knees and bruised hearts to prove it. But scars are easier to talk about than they are to show, with all the remembered feelings laid bare. And rarely do we see wounds that are in the process of healing. I'm not sure if it's because we feel too much shame to let anyone see a process as intimate as overcoming hurt, or if it's because even when we muster the courage to share our still-complete healing, people reflexively look away. 
We much prefer stories about falling and rising to be inspirational and sanitized. Our culture is rife with these tales. In a thirty-minute speech, there's normally thirty seconds dedicated to 'And I fought my way back,' or 'And then I met someone new,'... We like recovery stories to move quickly through the dark so we can get tot he sweeping redemptive ending."
                                                                                                                Brene Brown, "Rising Strong"

What is it that makes us so uncomfortable with being real and genuine? So many people think they have close relationships with others, that they have meaningful and tight-knit friendships. I don't know about you, but I have to be honest. If we haven't been REAL with each other. If we haven't had a deep talk. If I haven't felt comfortable sharing my past with you. Well...if I haven't or can't, we aren't close.

But we all do it. We all feel this need to wrap things up in a pretty bow. To give a happy ending to our struggle or difficulty. We don't want to admit when we are having a hard time or when something is confusing or when we just simply do not know the answer. There's a vulnerability to that, I suppose, and many of us know it additionally brings a risk, either to our reputation, our job, or our relationship. We have learned over and over that the outcome is not worth the risk, and have just decided to keep it to ourselves or a select few.

But what would happen if we did things differently? What would happen if EVERYONE decided to share and involve others in their struggles? If we let others be a part of them? I know I'm speaking idealistically, trust me. I am well aware what some would do with the information. And that's EXACTLY why it is so disturbing.

We ALL struggle!!!

But God...

What are you letting God do in the struggle? How are you letting Him shine? Are you allowing Him to work in you...THROUGH you...to really let the work begin and let the struggle be a testament to His glory?

Am I?

No wonder people aren't comfortable in those moments where the happy-ending has yet to occur. We aren't comfortable with ourselves in those moments. So perhaps that's where we need to start. Opening ourselves up, and letting ourselves have vulnerability when we're struggling. Whether it's to say, I need some help, I need a prayer, I need ______...we need to start by being the examples and setting the tone that it's OKAY to be in a struggle.  We gotta start with us, and just hope that if we show we are comfortable with ourselves in our own times of difficulty, that others will begin to be comfortable, too.

Following Love Back to the Start

It's a rare evening, as I sit here, processing, after some quiet reading time.

You see, at just over halfway through my third pregnancy, I have developed what I have decided to term, "pregnancy-induced narcolepsy" (yes, I've made this up. I'm qualified :) ). In putting my 3yo to bed, I, too, often find myself sleeping with her for an hour or more, then summoning just enough strength to drag my drooping body to my own bed, leaving little time for cleaning up, prepping, washing, or, well, anything.

But tonight as I found my mind racing and my body ready to go, I decided to read. I've begun reading, "Rising Strong" by Brene Brown, and I can already see why my play therapy instructor is in love. I found myself getting a strong urge to write, something I haven't done in quite some time. Realizing my journal was hidden away in the forbidden place (i.e., my bedroom while my husband is sleeping), I recalled starting a blog quite some time ago. At first, that continued to halt my desire, as I wanted to be able to journal. You know, NOT be vulnerable to an audience of people. Then I remembered I have no followers. HA!

And, of course, for any of you who have read this book (or even just the introduction), you will also know that Brene talks about being VULNERABLE. Well, crap.

So I have to admit, tonight I have nothing of importance to say. I could follow one of the multiple branches my mind has been traveling during the last hour/day/week/month/trimester, but who's to say which is best?

Me. I am saying it is most definitely best I don't try to choose that at the moment.

So, for tonight, I'm just saying I'm back. I'm back to writing. To reading. To exploring. Because when you feel stuck and anxious and distracted and overwhelmed, it truly is best to get back to the basics. And I've realized in the MULTIPLE times that the question, "what are your coping skills?" has come up, that while I have them, I don't use them (yep, even therapists don't always follow their own advice!) And now, more than ever, I NEED to use them.

So, whether the world is ready for me or not, here I am. Just me, remembering why I started this blog to begin with. To follow love. To find my passion. To express my heart. To just be me, and to hopefully find some lifers who want to come along for the ride.

Step Up

This quote comes at a timely moment in my day (week, month...)... Children are not convenient. They are not easy. They are time-consuming, stressful, exhausting, and quite inconvenient at times. But before this begins to sound like a child-bashing post (which, even in my wildest dreams, I could never compose), I'll get to the point. We make choices, good or bad, and all of our choices have a consequence, good or bad. I tell this to my middle schoolers every day. One in particular challenges me, saying "I can do what I want". To this I reply simply, "Yes, you can. You absolutely have the freedom and right to do what you want. But no matter what that is, there are consequences for your actions. So by choosing to do what you want, you are choosing the result that follows". 

But my rant tonight is not about the kids. It's about the parents. And to those parents, I simply want to say, STEP UP. Man up. Your children did not choose to be put here, you chose to engage in the act that led to his or her birth. You chose to have them. You chose to keep them. Stop treating them like a burden and start treating them like a person. Be the responsible parent and do the right thing.

I'm watching one of my middle schoolers fade away, and it breaks my heart. I'm watching him teeter on the edge between a world of hope, responsibility, goals and a future, and a world of gangs, drugs, money, and negative influences. As I thought about him tonight, I realized that never before have I had such a hard time leaving God "out" of secular counseling, because never before have I counseled a child so desperately in need of knowing his worth. (okay, that may not be true, but this one is quite extreme). This child has experienced a lot, sure, but the biggest is the emotional neglect. That continual message that simply states, "you're not worth it", "you're not important enough" or even, "you're a burden". And it literally puts me in tears. This child is seeking, searching, trying, grasping for anything or anyone that will show him he has worth. 

And yet, I almost feel I can't blame him. I was told today that he won't change. That people never really change, and the best I could hope was to get him through school because the influences outside of school are stronger and more attractive in what they have to offer. And I was discouraged enough from the day to feed into this idea in my heart and in my mind. Thankfully, I have a very wonderful (and very wise) friend that brought me back to reality and reminded me that "God is the originator of change, a god that instituted seasons and growth and life and death. We are not alone in this business of change. We need only remember Who change originates with". I love my friend.

I'm at the point that literally ALL I can do is pray. (I probably should have reached this point from the beginning, but I'm learning...). Pray that God finds him. Pray that God places people in his life to reach out to him. Pray that God speaks to him, whether through me, a teacher, a friend, or family. And pray that in the meantime, God protects him from the possibility of what life could end up like should he continue down his path. My heart is wavering between extreme anger at the parent for being "too tired" to deal with it any more, and sadness at the result that it is causing in her child. 

Step up, parents. When you're too tired, do it anyway. When you're at the end of your rope, keep going. When you're out of strength, push harder. And pray, pray, pray. Your kids are worth it. Give them the love, the safety, the attention, the boundaries, the rules, and the consistency they DESERVE. They don't care if you're perfect. They care if you're there, and not just physically. They care if you show them they are worth it. 

If you don't like where things are headed, step UP, not out.

3 Years

3 years. Has it really been 3 years? It sounds so redundant, doesn't it? Cliche, almost. To hear myself say, "wow, can you believe it's been ____ years?" Fill in the amount, year after year, and nothing changes. I still can't believe it. 

To put it in perspective...Ray and I still lived in an apartment in Richmond. Zeke was only 4 months old. I worked in-home - and had just started in Fredericksburg. Ray and I had just purchased a house but did not live there. Amanda wasn't married yet. Eric and Chelsea were still in college. Isla hadn't even been conceived....for that matter, Ellie hadn't been conceived. The list goes on and on...

I try not to have regrets. I try to live life that way...to put things in perspective. To know that life happens, and I can't change the past. But when it comes to my dad, I have a major regret. I was supposed to go home for Easter that year...Ray was working, so it would be a long-weekend road trip flying solo...and of course by flying, I mean driving. I was burnt out, exhausted, and stressed, and was worried about making that drive by myself. I was still struggling health-wise, and knew that it hurt my body to drive that long. And I made the decision to not go, for my own sake. 

And I regret it. If only I had known that would be the last time I saw my dad. The last time I hugged him or hung out with him or saw him face to face. The last time I sang karaoke (most likely) with him, played poker or had a drink. The last time I said a real good-bye. It kills me sometimes. I know I can't change it. And I know there's the..."there's no way you could have known". And I didn't. I couldn't. But I do remember feeling bad I wasn't going. Feeling guilty, and trying to remind myself that sometimes I had to take care of me and my health. But I wish I could have had one more day. One more memory. One more chance to hug and kiss him and tell him good-bye.

I wish that anyway. I wish it hadn't been so sudden, such a slap in the face. I am glad I didn't have to watch him suffer, and that he didn't endure a long battle with illness or pain. But I'm envious of those who get to tell their loved ones good-bye. Those who have closure. I think I was robbed of that.

Dad, we have a daughter. Sometimes I think she's got just a little of your personality, and a few of your goofy expressions. She's going to learn all about you one day. I can't stand that I don't get to share her with you. I can't stand that you aren't here to visit, to kiss her face and give her hugs and play with your first granddaughter. I hate it with every beat of my heart. Dad, we bought a house. And I'm sitting for my counseling license finally.

Dad, Chelsea's getting married. To a man named Brian, no less, with a brother named Brent. He's sweet to Chelsea, and he treats her well. You'd be proud.

Dad, Eric moved to Chicago. He's doing really well there. Wants to go on in college, too. Can you believe it? For now, plans are in the works for him to really move up in his job. You'd be so proud.

Dad, I miss you. Sometimes I feel you around. Is that strange? I sometimes wonder about dimensions and heaven and angels...but I feel you sometimes. Not as often as I used to. Or as often as I would like. And I'm starting to have trouble remembering your voice, your laugh. I'm losing it. What a horrible feeling.

You know, I still remember that day, three years ago. With so much of my life being a blur, and with all of the numbness tied to that day, one would think that day would be a blur as well. Heck, I would think that. And I expect it to be whenever I think about it. But for some stupid reason, I remember every detail. I remember the night before, going to a wedding with Ray and turning my ringer off and staying out until 4 in the morning. We had a blast. I remember waking up to Ray's phone ringing, and smacking him to answer it or turn it off. I remember Ray sitting straight up in bed as my groggy mind tried to come out of a deep sleep, and hearing him saying "no...", and eventually handing me the phone. I remember trying to wrap my still half-asleep mind around what my mom was telling me. Trying to fight every instinct to throw the phone, wanting to crawl back under the covers and go back to sleep. I remember the guilt that we had missed multiple calls from my mom, as though her somehow getting ahold of us would have made a difference, and as I felt bad I couldn't be "there" with her as she went through it all. I remember the exact feeling I had as I began to comprehend what my mom was telling me, and as I asked questions to try to make sense of it all. I remember Ray just holding me as he handed me the phone and as I felt my world fall apart. I remember Ray's mom and Amanda coming down and trying to keep my mind off of things. I remember making phone calls and I remember the numb feelings of being in my own bubble...that feeling that is so often recreated on television when the person starts to dissociate and can here everything happening around them, swirling around them, as though one were under water. Once the extreme emotions were gone, the numbness set it...one I've never experienced before or after. One that really doesn't care if life goes on or not, but just sits in waiting, indifferent, just there, moving one step in front of the other, as though on autopilot. 

Today, here's to you, dad. Here's raising a glass to you and your antics, to your love for people, and your karaoke fun. Here's to you coaching (and playing) softball, coming to our games and productions and activities, building houses, and starting your own business. Here's you getting your MBA while working full time and raising a family. Here's to your bushwhackers and your margaritas, your boat, your plane, and your Jimmy Buffet. Here's to your Bob Seger, your WKXA, and your eventual love for country. Here's to your breakfasts of Mt. Dew and cookies, your ability to dip buckeyes, to sharing egg nog and cherry filled chocolates, and your 'Twas the Night Before Christmas traditions. Here's to your temper and your sense of humor, your wit and your personable, outgoing personality. Here's to your involvement in school, in family, and in life. Here's to your determination and your strong-willed mind. Here's to both your artistic and your mathematical ability. Here's to your surprises and your affection. Here's to your drive, your goals, your motivation, and your dreams. Here's to fulfilling your dreams, to working for what you want, for working for what you had. Here's to you pushing me to be the best that I could be in whatever area it was. Here's to you never settling. Here's to you, a one-of-a-kind, fun-loving, free-spirited, live-like-you're-dying kind of guy. I miss you so much more than ever. 

I love you, dad. I love you so much.

What a Daughter Needs From Her Dad

Regularly, I see books and blogs regarding what a son needs from his mother, addressing the complexity of male versus female, and how we as mothers can (hopefully) build strong, respectful men of God. And it got me thinking. What about daughters from their dads? I'm sure there are just as many books addressing this exact thing, too, but I don't see it come across my Pinterest feed as often. Perhaps this could be attributed to the possibility that Pinterest is utilized much more often by women than men, thus mothers are posting for themselves. Or perhaps it's deeper. Whatever the reason, I started thinking about it. What does a daughter need from her dad? What will help her grow up to be a self-respecting, loving, selfless, woman of God? Obviously, there is no set equation. But there are definitely some basics that can help. I decided to compose my own, tentative list.

1. Tell her you are proud of her every moment you can. If she studies every night and still gets a C, hold up that C with pride at her effort and determination. Whether she earns honorable mention or MVP, a daughter needs to hear (and know) that her father is proud of her, and hear him bragging about her, no matter what, because she is his daughter. **A disclaimer: pride should be in the fact that she is his, not solely in her accomplishments…the goal is not to make her feel she can only earn his love.
2. Tell her daily that she is beautiful and loved. A daughter needs to hear it. No hesitation should be given that it might somehow cause her to become arrogant or conceited. Instead, a dad will know it helps her build confidence in herself and to know internally that she is unique, special, and a gift.
3. Teach her to trust by being trustworthy. Follow through with your promises. Stand behind your word. Be a man of integrity.
4. Teach her God's love by being God's love. Unconditional, whole, and with no exception.
5. Respect her mom, her grand mom, her aunt…all of the women in her life. How you treat them, especially her mom and yours, will demonstrate to her how she deserves to be treated. She won't make time for the losers. and when, one day (FAR!) down the road, she finds a spouse, she will beam with pride when she is told she married her dad, because she will know that means she will be treated the way she deserves and she married a man worth bragging about. 
6. How you talk about other women will not only shape her view about other women, but about herself. If you call them fat, she will believe you view her in the same manner should she put on a few pounds. If you treat them like objects, then don't be surprised if your daughter believes she is one.
7. How you talk about your daughter, and what you say to her, will stick with her forever. Call her fat, stupid, ugly, _______ (insert your own name here)-even if only once, out of anger, or teasingly-and she will forever remember that moment and how it made her feel. Worse, she may work her entire life to combat this now self-applied label. Your daughter believes in you, and in everything you tell her-even the bad stuff. So make sure you are filling her only with positive and uplifting words. As the old saying goes, if you can't say something nice….
8. Be present. Invest time in her. Show her that she is important by your actions. Attend her recitals, plays, games, concerts - even if deep down you think they are silly or boring (you can admit it…just not to her). Talk to her, and listen to her wants. Let her confide in you - and keep that confidential. Take her out on dates (or spend time in), just you and her. Play house or barbies or trucks or sports or whatever she wants. Learn her love language, and show her love in a way that speaks only to her. 
9. Don't ever make her feel guilty or responsible for your decisions. Whether it's money, relationships, lifestyles, whatever, they are your choices, not hers. Take responsibility for your actions.
10. Say "I'm sorry". Admit you're wrong. It will show her that it's not only okay to make mistakes, but that even adults can be wrong and apologize.
11. Take her to church. Teach her the Word. Teach her what the Bible says about love, hate, ourselves, others, judgment, acceptance, etc. Build a strong foundation for her future endeavors.

This is only the beginning. Just a tentative start. If you are reading this, what things would you add?

It's been two years today since the last time I spoke with my dad. Two years tomorrow since he passed. And so much longer since I last saw him. So much has happened over the last two years, that I can't help but pause and reflect on it all. I never realized how much I would still miss him. How strong that ache of grief would still feel. I suppose it's to be expected-he's my dad. But some days I miss him sooo much more. I wish he was here to see my brother and sister graduate from college. I want him to be here in June when he becomes a grandpa for the first time, and I become a mother. I wish he was here to see my first house, my sister's wedding, my brother's new job. To watch our new milestones and to make more memories. It doesn't feel right to reach these milestones without my dad, like somehow they are incomplete, not as satisfying because a piece of it is obviously missing.

At this time last year, I felt a peace. A peace that made no sense, yet that I needed in order to know it was going to be okay. I was going to be okay. But this year...I miss him more. I don't wish him back here--that would be selfish. But yet, I wish he was here. Perhaps that he had never left. Or that somehow being in heaven didn't mean that I would never see him again...not in this lifetime, anyway.

Someday, I'll tell Isla about her grandpa. I'll tell her how he coached my softball team, and built houses, and had the ability to talk with everyone he met. I'll tell her about his love for adventure and excitement, his desire to live hard, work hard, play hard. I'll try to re-create his sense of humor and his goofy nature, just so she can have an inkling of what her grandpa was like. I'll show her pictures that won't even begin to explain him, and I'll tell her stories that will only encapsulate a fraction of who he was, in hopes of sharing him with her. It won't be perfect. And it won't even begin to illustrate who he was. But I hope that she grows up to have a love for a grandpa she's never met, and an excitement to see him in heaven.

Gotta be somethin more

Sugarland sings, "There's gotta be somethin more, gotta be more than this...". Stacie Orrico shares similar sentiments: "Well it's life, but I'm sure...there's gotta be more than wanting more". Across the world, people are seeking for meaning, purpose, more than the humdrum, everyday life that they're living.
I have faith. I have God. Yet I share this same desire. The only difference for me is my song would be screaming with all its might, "there better be something more"... I know that this life is temporary and afterlife is eternal. We are working for heaven and eternity. But sometimes I can't help but think there better be something good at the end of this fire, this struggle, this trial, this valley.
Life lately--as in, over the last 10 years--has seemed to be one stretched out valley with deeper valleys, Blue fire inside of orange. As soon as I feel I'm even beginning to climb a mountain I lose my footing or my rope breaks and I end up close to where I started, for certain. I am told continually that these continual trials mean God is preparing me. That He knows I can handle it. That He is strengthening me for something greater, something more.
I gotta be honest. I need something more pretty soon, though I'm sure it amuses God to give Him a timeline for His will and wonder. But this continual, ongoing stress and chaos and trial has contributed to an equally ongoing depression and exhaustion and burn out. I believe God is my strength with all my heart. But I don't feel Him. This passed year I feel I have been continually beaten down with one struggle after another. I don't believe I've lost, and I don't believe I'll be beaten. But I do believe I am losing strength, and I am losing the sense of God's power on my side. No matter what I don't lose hope. I don't lose faith. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not giving up. I refuse to quit. Most of the time. Sometimes I feel I've fallen from a valley deep into a crevice and am merely feeling the walls to find any type of foothold so I don't fall deeper into the dismal abyss.
The only hope I have to hold on to is that something great is right around the corner. I guess I am just hoping that around the corner is not as far as it feels, because as soon as I think I'm starting to near it, something else knocks me back. My dad, my job, client and families, lies, loss, grief, ptsd, depression, hopelessness, emotions, stress, memories, family, decisions, responsibility...it has all hit hard this year. All. I scream to be heard and yet barely utter a whisper in quiet desperation to be understood and rescued. But even I don't know what could rescue me other than God, faith and hope...