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...

Grief is an almost funny thing. I could compare it to a roller-coaster, but I feel it's overused and not quite what I'm feeling or thinking. I picture it more to be a small line following behind a rolling tumbleweed which swoops up, then back, then flailing down but forward. Much better than stairsteps or dramatic roller coaster swirls, but difficult and confusing and swirling like a tornado.

The interesting and most difficult is on that upward swoop, right before the step backward and downward slide...see, on that upward journey, you appear "fine" to the world around you. You start to feel fine, and others expect you are beginning to move forward and through the grief cycle. In fact, when that back step and drop come unexpectedly and randomly, it's almost as though the people around you--and sometimes even you--forget that it's another swirl of the grief, not a symptom of something separate. No one close to you would ever admit it, or even be consciously aware, but they have an expectation of you to be who you were, who they know you to be, and giving this new onset of grief an explanation can be comforting. No one likes change totally...when people change, it causes an upset to the balance of relationships and roles with the closest people. Those who were comfortable with the known will have difficulty allowing this change to happen in the grieving person and will attribute the struggles to a personal lack of the person or a way in which the grief is not being handled.

That's the trouble. You're not that person anymore. And on the lowest days, that person seems a distant fog. Petty things appear pettier, and frustrations larger, because your whole world has been altered, changed, dramatically. Your mindview views through a completely differently colored lense, seeing from a new perspective. And some days are numbing and apathetic. Some days are emotional. Some days are just a tease of the normal that used to be.

If I had to voice what my biggest need was, or how someone could help, I could not. I need love, I need to be alone. I need to be busy, I need to sleep. I need to exercise, I need to rest. I need to talk, I need to be quiet. It's an interesting feeling, this grieving. I know I have God, my husband, my family. And yet it's isolating, and I've never felt so alone. I always thought I could empathize to the full extent with people...it came naturally for me, and grew into a strength as I filtered it to counseling. But it was not until I lost my dad that I realized I had NO idea how my clients felt with the loss(es). It grew my awareness of its extent, but also of its isolating powers.

This blog tonight has no direction, no single point of emphasis. Just a rough weekend turned to words for the evening...

Storms

Grasping, reaching, pulling, fumbling, falling. Desperately trying to find something solid and sturdy to hold on to. I feel God's presence, I feel His love, and yet I need something more concrete to grasp at this point in my life. Not in faith. But in solid ground....literal, poured concrete, ground.

Every day is a continued battle. I struggle with a constant depression, and grow tired of answering "fine" or "same" when asked how my day was, how I'm feeling, or if there is something I need to talk about. There's nothing. Nothing will bring back my dad. Nothing will help this unending, almost unbearable pain. I sit home and I feel numb. I go to work and it lingers in the back of my mind. I feel so different now, so grounded. A part of me is no longer there...the part that had a father, a family. Though it may be a normal stage of grief, its low-lying and almost unnoticeable nature causes it to be undermined by those around you.

Strong. What exactly does that mean? I'm told I am strong, to stay strong, I don't have to be strong. But what does "strong" look like in such a horrible situation? Does it mean not crying? Does it mean continuing on with life? Does it mean loving and supporting others? Does it mean pulling your loved ones closer to you? I want to know how "strong" appears to others, how they are drawing the conclusion that I fit this lucid description.

It's amazing how perspective changes in what truly matters when life is lost. Life is so short, so mortal. I knew this, obviously, but did I really pay attention? Did I grab every moment and hold it close to my heart? Did I make certain to leave each person in such a way that I would be satisfied with the certainty that they felt my love should something happen to either one of us? Did I love--and live--with my entire heart, no holding back, no protecting, no fear?

My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions each and every day. I try to continue on with my regular schedule. To expect full work out of myself, full hours. Yet at any moment, I break into tears--complicated more-so by the inability to pour out onto my clients or even shed light into what's happening in my own heart.

When does the tornado stop? When do the waves stop crashing long enough for me to find relief on the sandy shore, just long enough to crash into a deep, swirling sleep?

loss

This may be the hardest post I will ever write, but I feel it may be better to put it on paper.

Early this morning, my dad passed away unexpectedly. My mom had been trying to call all morning, our phones on silence from a wedding the night before. He died young and quick, with no warnings other than the breathing that awoke my mom from her sleep. Unfortunately she was not able to wake him from his.

There is truly no feeling like this, no pain the same. I want to cry, I want to lie down and melt into the floor. I want to wake up, for someone to pinch me and tell me that it was all a dream and everything is going to be okay.

The best I have is to turn to the Lord, and to the family that He has provided me with. There has been a flood of prayers and emails and texts and calls. It's incredible how quickly the word flies. Talking to people is the hardest. Everyone wants to help, to take it away. But I just can't keep telling the story over and over. It's so hard.

This feeling is like nothing I have ever experienced. I zone, I am "ok", I sob and break down, and it cycles interchangeably and is set off for no apparent reason or by no trigger. I want to throw up. To scream. To kick and cry and punch the wall and break everything and yell at God.

And yet, all the screaming in the world would not bring him back. Hurting myself wouldn't help...I know I need to be here for my family. I know we need to pull together, to help each other and lean on each other and just continue to pray and to lean on God for strength and guidance and wisdom and peace.

As I pour through God's word, I realize not only how important, but how BIBLICAL grief is. Ecclesiastes 7:1-4 reads, A good reputation is better than precious perfume; likewise, the day of one's death is better than the day of one's birth. It is better to go to a funeral than a feast. For death is the destiny of every person, and the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because sober reflection is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of merrymaking

I should note a disclaimer. I'm not studying the context of this passage. I'm merely reporting the versus as I see them...and finding the comfort that grief is natural and encouraged and God sees us through it all*

luke 1:78-79 offers comfort, reading Because of our God's tender mercy the dawn will break upon us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

2 corinthians 1:9, Blessed is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we may be able to comfort those experiencing any trouble with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow toward us, so also our comfort through Christ overflows to you. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort that you experience in your patient endurance of the same sufferings that we also suffer. And our hope for you is steadfast because we know that as you share in our sufferings, so also you will share in our comfort.

When we die and leave these bodies, we will have wonderful new bodies in Heaven, homes that will be ours forevermore, made for us by God himself, and not by human hands."-- 2 Corinthians 5:1

in the desert...

Sheer, pure, exhaustion at its finest. Fatigued. Drained. Burnt out. Dead. Apathetic. Indifferent. Zoned. Blank.

I have a client who lost a father, and her affect is flat. She can be joyful or bored and still appear the same. I wonder if it's a continuation of such potent care and empathy and emotion that she got to the point that it becomes too much energy to show any emotion. To fully feel anything. It eventually comes to a point that it's easier just to float through life and neglect to feel at all.

It makes me want to jump up and down and scream obscenities at Satan. She's only 8. It's not fair. And yet, two decades her senior, I am struggling with the same thing, and with a living father. It's a difficult contradiction of the self to be so exhausted that care disappears but to still care that others are hurt by your not caring. EVERY effort feels like picking up a concrete block. EVERY move wears me down. It's easiest to be fake, but when the opportunity arises to take off my mask and expose how I feel, I only disappoint.

I feel lost in a whirlwind of despair. Despair over lost opportunities, dying relationships, diminishing effort. And yet as I look upon myself, I am standing on the ground in the middle of the cyclone, screaming in an inaudible, desperate, child-like voice. Part of me is dying, and part of me is grasping to find anything to hold on to.

Lord, I cry in desperation. Help me through this pit of the desert. Help me overcome the thirst of the parched soul longing for water. Rescue me from the lost life I am becoming. I pray to You and You alone, O Sovereign God. Find me in my place of nothingness and help me to survive.

Compassion and Fatigue

Compassion Fatigue.

Sounds like a pretty word, doesn't it? One that would be written on pictures and in scrapbooks in script, with curls and scrolls and those doopty-doo designs that I cannot think of the name.

But compassion fatigue is nothing close to attractive. Quite the opposite, actually. It was previously and more commonly known as burn-out, though I have to admit that knowing these words were interchangable was a slight breath of relief. Try to tell someone NOT in the health service field that you are burnt-out, and they will tell you to get more sleep or to take a day off. But in the same sentence they will ask if you are continuing to take care of yourself and your spouse and your family and your wifely duties......

However, tell someone you're struggling with compassion fatigue, and you may get a look of confusion or a look of sympathy. CF is serious, and a struggle, and does not necessarily go away with a day of rest. Once you get to that point, it's a process to get back. Sort-of like we explain to clients about the process of change. So hard to take your own advice.

I recently read this great description on website:
You're drained, tapped out, have little energy to give others. We’ve all been there. Usually, after a little break we revive and step back up to the plate. What happens, however, when these feelings don’t pass - going beyond fatigue and turning into something much worse, like apathy? This could spell trouble for those caring for an elderly parent or sick child, or for health care professionals rendering care to others.
This term has replaced the more familiar term "burn-out." It refers to a physical, emotional and spiritual fatigue or exhaustion that takes over a person and causes a decline in his or her ability to experience joy or to feel and care for others. Compassion fatigue is a one-way street, in which individuals are giving out a great deal of energy and compassion to others over a period of time, yet aren’t able to get enough back to reassure themselves that the world is a hopeful place. It’s this constant outputting of compassion and caring over time that can lead to these feelings.

Another site explained it short and simple, but more descript
Caring too much can hurt. When caregivers focus on others without practicing self-care, destructive behaviors can surface. Apathy, isolation, bottled up emotions and substance abuse head a long list of symptoms associated with the secondary traumatic stress disorder now labeled: Compassion Fatigue

Honestly, it was almost slightly relieving to hear that it had a name, and it was not depression, anxiety, bipolar, chronic stress, or the many other disorders doctors have tried to use. The thing is, though those other symptoms may be present, it's become a result, a consequence so to speak, of my profession. Dealing with it and later preventing it is crucial.

As for now, I turn to God. One day I asked my supervisor what to do when you become burned but sleep and self-care do not alleviate it. She paused, and said assuredly, You pray to God for strength. You pray for it to pass, for the energy you need, and for His strength to carry you through. Nothing else will help.

So I continue to pray, and to ask for prayers. I pray for my own struggle with CF to pass, I pray for success over my fatigue, irritability, and decreasing sense of care, and I pray for my family, that they can recognize what is happening and be with me through this journey to an existence where it's not a daily task to wake and arise each morning, waiting for the night to come to go back to sleep. An existence where life is enjoyable, and spending time with family and friends are not just one more item to check off my to-do list.

Old feelings, still true

I recently came across an old blog and considered it worth reposting. Still so accurate.

Thursday, August 24, 2006
"Never been unloved" (Michael W. Smith) Current mood:passionate Category: Life


Insecure. Worthless. Broken. Failure. Trash. Even just typing these words, my mouth fills with a taste of disgust. So many young men and young women hear these messages playing in their heads like a tape (yes, a cassette-remember those?) set on playback, repeat. The origination of these messages is unique to each heart. Some have heard them beaten in year after year, literally in verbal or emotional abuse from those whom they love and value opinions from the most. These children have grown up believing they have no place in this world, or that if they do, it is only if they improve themselves or just stay low and unnoticed. Surely there is no acceptance offered for failures such as these. Others hear these words through the actions of others, as they tend to speak a little louder, verifying the truth of the disbelief. And still more hear these messages from the lack of: the lack of trust, the lack of love, the lack of encouragement, the lack of affirmation, and the lack of assurance. Neglect takes the most evil form, because it teaches these children of the Lord that they are not worth anyone's time. They have been lost in the midst of a busy and more important world.
Yet as I sit here, more words come to mind. Beautiful, precious, valuable, worthy, priceless. These words, too, have been playing, but in a softer and more subtle form, so that the words of the world--nay, the devil--ring so much louder to the ear. God whispers to His children that that are beautifully and wonderfully made. He looks at them with love and admiration, remembering the intricate details with which they were formed. Remembering their purposes, and arranging for the most romantic and unique life for each. To Him, each child is just as important as the last. No one was looked over; no one was forgotten. God doesn't make "mistakes", as so many have quoted.
The tape recorder that continues to be played is a message from the devil himself, hitting on our deepest weakness to work to his greatest advantage. He picks our fallen natures--our deepest struggles--and attacks them, again and again. Of this I am sure, and have seen him firsthand try to intervene in a place God was trying to heal in my own life. He whispers these messages in our ears: "you're not good enough, not pretty enough, not worthy enough." "You are a failure and a disappointment. What is wrong with you?" "If only you could be like him/her...then your life would be perfect. Then he/she would love you more. Then GOD would love you more." And a disappointment this is, for sure, because God is longing us to listen to Him. To really take in and remember what He is telling us.
I recently was reminded something so simple that it brought me to tears. As I hear these messages pounding my head and fight back my "emotionality", why am I listening? If i honestly stop and think, "what would God be saying? Would God be telling me that I have no value? That I am a disappointment, that I am insignificant, that I am ugly?" NO! He is, and doesn't, and won't! God continues patiently whispering to us, His heart breaking every time we believe these lies about ourselves and the son or daughter we are. He so longs for us to realize our worth and value, and to feel acceptance through Him. Maybe our pasts have sent us these messages with which we will never live up to, and never fulfill. Maybe we will never find what we were missing so much from the people whom we needed it the most. But that's what makes Him so amazing. HE can fill that, can give that, can heal that. HE alone can make up for the loss, for the pain and the hurt. He can mend our hearts and send us on our way to live for HIM and Him alone.
My friends, girls and guys alike...if nothing else, take this away from my thoughts: YOU ARE PRICELESS TO HIM, A BEAUTIFUL CHILD OF GOD. Each time you hear that pang of doubt or insecurity, stop and wonder, "is this message from God? And if not, what WOULD God be saying?" "Sometimes you have to be firm and pray several times. As Peter said, 'firm in the faith' (1 Peter 5:9). But leave it does!" [Captivating] Put your focus on Him, and soon you will see the message He longs for you to hear.
"But You never said it would be easy...You only said I'd never go alone..." ~Ginny Owens
"The reason a woman wants a beauty to unveil, the reason she asks, "Do you delight in me? is simply that God does as well. God is capitvating beauty." ~Wild at Heart
"He replied, "I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions an dto overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you." ~Luke 10:18-19
"Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" ~Mathhew 11:28
"God decided to give us life through the word of truth so we might be the most important of all things He made." `~James 1:18
"The LORD will fulfill His purpose for me" ~Psalm 138:8a
"The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by what God is and by what He does for us." ~Romans 12:3
"You are who you are for a reason, You're part of an intricate plan. You're a precious and perfect unique design, Called God's special woman or man. *You look like you look for a reason, Our God made no mistake. He knit you together within the womb; You're just what He wanted to make. *The parents you had were the ones He chose, and no matter how you may feel; they were custom-designed with God's plan in mind, and they bear the Master's seal. *No, that trauma you faced was not easy, and God wept that it hurt you so. But it was allowed to shape your heart, so that into His likeness you'd grow. *You are who you are for a reason, You've been formed by the Master's rod. You are who you are, beloved, because there is a God." ~Russell Keifer, from "Purpose Driven Life"

The human mind

Have you ever stopped to wonder and marvel at the incredible strength of the human mind?
I was watching a reality show over my relaxing weekend where a girl believed she was pregnant. She was late for her period, and she began to have morning sickness. She even tested positive on a pregnancy test. A few days later, she got her period and everything came to a halt.
In another movie, a little girl played by Brittany Murphy (God rest her soul) has been in one psych hospital after another for multiple diagnoses and disorders. Her issue of biggest attention is her mutism and tendency to resort back to the little girl who cannot communicate with adults. Once her secret is revealed, however, her "disorder" all but disappears.
Movies? Yes. But real nonetheless. The human brain has been known to 'create' illnesses and disorders, even beliefs and experiences, by the sheer power of the imagination and belief system--convincing themselves that events have happened that in reality never occurred. That situations are real but in reality were never experienced. That people exist who do not. If one could master this, well, wow.... Just THINK of what possibilities would lie ahead!
I wonder if this is the type of faith that God asks us to have. The faith that would allow us to walk on water, to move mountains, to save. A sobering thought. All it takes is the direction of our brains and the pure focus on the focal point. If mere human beings can produce reality out of thought, what more could we do if that focus were where it belonged? What if our focus were so entranced on God and His desires for creation and the world that we could will miracles into action to bring others closer to Christ?
Religion aside, I cannot fathom to what extent the human mind could travel given it's strength when all focused on a single area. It's unfortunate that the world offers so many distractors at every turning point that the people who have acquired the ability to train and focus their brain down to a single microscopic point are considered to have a disorder.......

The Inner Child

As I listen to others being noticed for their talents, their specialities, their passions, a slight hint of jealousy begins to creep through me. The little girl deep inside is screaming, "but I'm good at those, too! Notice me!!" She continues to be pushed down as the adult face smiles and confirms these compliments being handed to others. And yet, in the back of her mind, she can't help but think about the screams of her inner child.

What happened? When did I get to a place that my talents, my passions, my small joys became hidden and unknown to those who know me best? When did I reach the point that I have to tell people, I do that! in order for them to know? When did I lose me?

I realized that the creeps of jealousy are, indeed, no fault but my own. I allowed those parts of me to slowly disappear, one by one, into a core inside that was hidden. That was unaccepted. That I no longer had time for because it wasn't fruitful. And yet, I have reached a point that I'm drowning in what they call burn out due to lack of self care. These passions: drawing, writing, photography, dancing, nature...they have one by one disappeared at the time I need them most to find myself again. The little girl inside, the one with the passions I truly enjoy, has been buried by what other people wanted, what was popular, what was acceptable, what was important.

But I didn't decide what was important. Or maybe I did. Maybe in the moment, in my attempts to become attractive and skinny and popular and perfect, my views of importance became skewed and twisted. Importance no longer became what I knew I loved as a little girl. Instead, those loves became "extras", areas I could pursue when I had time, when everything else was complete and in step with life.

The reality is, those are a part of me, too. And though I lost them for awhile, the child inside me won't let me forget. Maybe she knows better than I do what makes me happy. Maybe God is allowing me to hear her small, fragile and malnourished voice to remind me that she hasn't disappeared altogether, but I just neglected to nourish and feed into her in my ignorance of important priorities.

I look to the future with hope and excitement as I realize, all is not lost. I don't have to leave my childhood with the child. When I was young, I knew exactly what made me happy, and I did it. Now that I'm older, it's important--crucial--for me to bring the child along and to discover a new side of me.