Find The Awesome

In an effort to make this blog a little less depressing, it's been on my topic list for a while to write about things my parents did right.  I've bashed them quite a bit here, and eventually I may even remove some of those old posts.  I'm definitely torn between sharing the full version of my story, even the parts where my parents suck, versus taking things down in an effort to be more honoring towards my parents. 
Anyway........I'm going to try to think of some positives about my parents. 

My dad is a very cool guy.  He's an engineer and very, very bright.  He can solve any problem.  He has the perfect mix of both book smarts and common sense smarts.  The really interesting thing about him is that even though he's an engineer and very smart, he's also very creative.  He's definitely where I get my hidden creativity from.  I remember in elementary school I had a book report to do, and the project involved making a diorama to go with the book.  I didn't read the book, but I knew it was about a boy and his baseball card collection.  I had an idea in my head of what I wanted the diorama to look like, and the night before it was due, I told my dad about it.  He created the coolest project!  We didn't have a shoe box, so he made this wooden display for me, complete with these miniature little tables, with these tiny little pretend baseball cards on the tables.  It was awesome.  For a girl who always felt misunderstood, I remember knowing just how awesome it was that he created something that perfectly matched the idea in my head. 

I wanted to include his name in Colin's middle name because my dad is funny, smart, and creative, and I want all those things for my boys as well.

My mom  -- wow, this one is harder.  My mom is a very brilliant oncology nurse.  She's worked at the same office for nearly 30 years, and she knows her stuff.  I often times forget how knowledgeable she is, because when I ask her health related questions about myself and the kids, she is often no better than webMD.  A couple years ago my cousin lost her husband to cancer.  My mom was on the phone with her everyday, telling her what to expect next, answering questions, and walking with her through the entire process.  I could see just how much that meant to my cousin, and the rest of the family, and I also know that my mom doesn't do that only for family.  She treats all of her patients like family, and her knowledge and expertise means the world to so many people every single day.  I definitely don't give her enough credit in this area.

If there is one thing I want my kids to get from my mom it's her love of family.  She never misses a family gathering, she takes care of her mom and dad, and she is loyal to her siblings.  She quickly forgives and expects the best from them, regardless of the past. 

So there ya go, Ive managed to find the awesome in both of my parents. 

Tis the Season

There is something about this time of year that has always excited me.  Not just the fact that it's the end of the school year.  Something bigger than that.  For me, this graduation season has always held a spark of promise, the possibility that RIGHT NOW you can be anything you want to be. As someone who knew without a doubt that I'd be going to college right after high school, thinking about the summer after graduation was a hobby of mine.  I dreamed about the shopping trips I'd take with a parent, the bedding I'd pick out for my dorm room, the road trip I'd take to meet my new roommate before school began, the memories I'd talk about with my mom while she helped me pack, and the final hang outs I'd plan with my friends before leaving. 

None of that happend for me.  None of that went as planned.

Yes, my life has turned out better than I could have possibly hoped.  Yes, yes, YES.  But there's still a part of me that grieves that experience I longed for and never got.  This is the time of year that I think about what could have been, and even all these years later, it still makes me sad.  Because I'm a planner, June represented the possibilities of the future, because by the time August came, everything would be set.  That's why it's now and not fall that triggers this for me. 

I was going to go to GVSU to become a physician's assistant.  Nobody talked to me about my interests, my career goals, my future possibilities.  I looked over the list of majors and picked something that I thought sounded impressive.  (Here's how little I knew about it -- I didn't realize it was a 6 year program until weeks into my first semester.)  I didn't have adults talking to me about my future, and I definitely made my own conclusions as to why.  Nobody took me shopping to buy fun stuff for my college dorm.  Nobody helped me pack for college.  Nobody talked about childhood memories and how much they were going to miss me.  I talked to my future roommate on the phone once, but she lived in Chicago and I had no money, so a roadtrip was out of the question.  I became depressed and withdrawn; I worked a ton trying to save money for college, and by the end of the summer I didn't have any plans with friends before leaving.  Nothing went as I had hoped it would. 

The ironic thing is that as this is all unfolding, I'm recognizing that it's not going as planned, and I almost tried to give myself a second chance at making it happen.  That summer I worked with a girl who was a few years older than me.  She had started working fulltime right after high school to save money to pay for college.  So even though she wasn't fresh out of high school, she was getting ready for her first "going away to colllege" experience.  By about July of that summer, when I'm seeing how much my parents are failing to do anything on my dream list, I started thinking that I 'd just delay college.  I would just do what she did, work for a few years, and try again later.  Not because I needed the money, but because I wanted to give my parents a second chance to not suck.  Even with my limited wisdom, I knew that delaying the process was not going to help anything, so I didn't go that route.

The whole situation had me set up to fail from the very beginning, so it's no wonder I only stayed at GVSU one semester.  My dad and sister dropped me off at college.  I wasn't close to either of them so it really wasn't anything special.  There weren't any encouraging words or happy memories exchanged.  At the time there wasn't any sort of system for incoming freshman to make sure they didn't't get lost in the shuffle, so that I did.  I cried most of the day for the first week or two.  Not because I was homesick.  It was more for the fact that I felt like I didn't have a home anymore.  I didn't have either of my parents talking excitedly about me coming home for Thanksgiving.  I didn't know if either of them would even come get me for the holiday.  And I sure didn't feel like I fit in there.  It was a mess.  I was a mess.  It certainly wasn't anything like what I had hoped and dreamed it would be.

Sixteen years later, this is still the season that represents so much possibility.  In this healing phase that I'm in, I'm looking for ways to use that excitement and possibilities within the context of where I am now.  For me, that doesn't come without first grieving the loss of a dream.

I'm a Runner

I think I've written my running back-story before, and that was not my intent with this post.  It's a good story though, and I'll be sure to write it up if I discover that I haven't already.  It took me a long time before I could say so, but for the purpose of this post, I'm just going to say that I'm a runner.

So today while I was running, it occurred to me that one of the reasons I like running is because I am in control.  I am the one to push myself to run harder and farther than I thought I could.  I'm the one that decides when I sprint and when I walk.  I'm not the victim when I'm running, and that is a role I have a hard time letting go of.

I have always felt like I was under someone else, controlled by someone else, made smaller so as to be accepted by someone else.  I have always struggled with feeling like I didn't have the power or the right to say yes or no.  This victimhood is where I lived my life for so long that it began to feel like home.  That was my comfort zone.  As long as something was happening TO me, then I was ok.  The problem with that mentality is that sometimes life does let up; sometimes you do get some streaks of good luck and you find that life is really pretty good.  And you don't know what to do with that, so you create your own drama and find a way to get back to the life you know and love, the life of victim.  For the longest time, one of the hardest things for me to hear was someone telling me how great I had things, because I just didn't even know what to do with that.  When life was good, I found myself running in the opposite direction, looking for trouble.

Being in control and being happy with how well things are going has been one of the tough things for me to learn on this healing journey.  There are days that I still struggle with it.  It seems silly.  It seems like a ridiculous problem to have, I know.  I suppose that's just par for my screwed up course of life.  (See, I STILL think of myself as the victim!)

I ran today for the first time since the half marathon over a month ago.  I was dreading this run because I was worried about how much endurance I had lost.  I planned for 3 miles, regardless how long it would take.  I felt pretty good for the first mile, better than I expected actually.  And really, mile two wasn't too tough either.  Mile three was when I started to get winded and started to adjust for some walk breaks.  My first thought was that I don't have to do anything I don't want to do.  If I want to walk, then I'll walk, dammit!  Then I thought that while I might be entitled to take as long as I damn well please, was that really what I wanted for myself?  If I wanted to feel like I had done my best, then I'd have to push myself.  Nobody else was going to do it for me.  If I ended up walking the whole last mile, I didn't have anyone to blame but myself, because when I'm out running, I'm not the victim of someone else.  It's up to me to have the audacity to decide that I can do something that might be hard.  I can decide that I want something better than a walking pace.  I can decide that I'm worth working hard for, and I'm worth being proud of.  I'm a runner and I'm going to push myself to do something that I can feel proud of.  I don't have to make myself smaller so I can fit under someone else.  I can't be both victim and runner, and I choose runner.

Progress on Steps One, OneB, and OneC

This post is an update to this post.

Step One -- So there we go, step one is make humility a top priority and let go of being right because of the perceived arrogance that comes with it.
Let's see, I think I've made good progress on this one.  I had an incredible opportunity for growth over the last several weeks.  I've had the privilege of having frequent interactions with someone who pushes my buttons and brings out my argumentative spirit.  I've made thoughtful progress during conversations, as well as sat down to reflect on how things went after most conversations I had with her.  (Wow.  That makes me sound like such a dork.)  I thought about what I said, the tone I used, and how I might say or do something different in my next interaction so that I am displaying a respectful attitude.  It's far from perfect or even natural; it's something I will continue to be mindful of.  I think I've gotten better, but there's still lots of room for improvement.

Step OneB -- The next thing we talked about was at what point in my relationships do I put the wall up.
I've made big progress on this one too!  This one has been surprisingly fun, even for an introvert with self worth issues.  I've made conscience efforts to be vulnerable in conversations.  I've given a lot of friends a lot of information lately.  It's been fun to see how they are able to connect with me when I give them even the smallest bit to latch on to.  It's been healing for me to share things and have friends follow up in a meaningful way.  It's also been fun to reciprocate!  I've never been a fan of small talk, and I considered most things small talk.  I avoided it at all cost because I didn't have any interest in knowing about someone else's personal life, and I didn't want the responsibility of following up.  I didn't want to be vulnerable.  I've done so much better about this, and have even enjoyed it.  I've already seen a couple of my relationships grow stronger because of this.  I feel like now I can be more caring and compassionate, which is something I always wanted and never knew how to do.  I've seen awesome growth in this area.

Step OneC -- This step is going to be a lot of looking at a current filter, deciding if it was put there by someone or something else or if it truly is something that is part of me now. 
This is a slow process.  I think I've made slight improvements towards this.  I've made time to do things with friends who push me to be real and not just a follower.  I haven't really had the time to retreat by myself to think about this one, but hopefully I can try that this summer.  Change will be slow, but hopefully long lasting.   

The Broken Comfort Zone

I've heard every cliche about comfort zones.  You don't grow when you stay in your comfort zone, you miss out on opportunities, you miss out on relationships...all that stuff.  There are plenty of good reasons to buck the system and try new things.  That knowledge doesn't necessarily make it easier to do, but perhaps makes me more aware of the need to keep stretching and growing.  This is nothing new, and I'm sure it applies to everyone.

I have a whole other set of reasons for pushing myself beyond my comfort zone.  My comfort zone is a battle ground.  My comfort zone is chaos, drama, pain, manipulation, fear, lies, and denial.  Why would anyone want to hang out there?  The logical, head knowledge, part of me knows that I should go running in the opposite direction as fast as I can, and not look back.  If I were watching someone else live this life, and watching their story unfold, I'd definitely judge them for not running.  I can totally see the logical side of it.  But this is what I know, this is the mess I've lived in for so long, this is the system I know how to work. 

Part of my therapy and moving on is identifying triggers and being ready to handle them so I don't "relapse." Truth be told, sometimes all I want to do is relapse.  I want to go back to the mess, because it was my mess and I was comfortable there.  Some days it really is hard to do the right thing, to take the next right step on this healing journey, because it's hard work; it's not easy; it's not second nature yet.  Sometimes it's just not fun. 

There are definitely days that I look around and life feels too quiet.  I wish I could say that I never think of my old habits, but that's just not true.  When life is quiet, I know exactly how to stir things up.  I know exactly how to make things a mess so that I can be comfortable in the midst of chaos again.  But I'm working hard at not going back there.  I'm working hard at looking for love through my new, healthy lens.  I'm starting to be aware of things that are said and done out of love.  I'm also working on remembering that even if it wasn't today that a friend sent me a thoughtful text, I'm still loved today.  I grew up in a place where feelings and emotions changed from moment to moment, sometimes with no rhyme or reason.  I have this horrible 'needy' habit of wanting to be told/shown love every minute of everyday.  I have a husband who is more than willing to accommodate that need, but I've gotten good at dismissing his love as "have to."  He doesn't have to do anything.  He chooses to show me love in a variety of meaningful ways.  It's up to me to receive it.  It's up to me to understand that my broken comfort zone of chaos, isn't reality.  I have stable people in my life who don't waiver in their love, and who don't love me based on performance, and who consistently love me even when it's quiet.  It's up to me to fight to stay there, and not slip back into the chaos I (used to) love.

I Promise....

The anniversary celebration and vow renewal was last weekend.  It was amazing.  It was so much fun, and it ended up being a very special time.  More on that later.  I posted that I was having a hard time writing my vows; here is what I came up with.

13 years ago, I didn’t know what love was.  I thought that I needed to be fixed, that I needed to be made better, and that you could do that.  I didn’t know that consistency was the goal and that your love was unconditional.  I’m sorry for all those times I deliberately put that to the test.  I couldn’t see that your love for me was not based on performance, and I didn’t have the self worth in place to understand why you tired so hard with me.  The scariest part about working through my own issues over the last 2 years is that I was worried that I’d find I didn’t need you anymore.  I was afraid that if I took that piece out of how I understood our relationship, then there’d be nothing left to stand on.  I could not have been more wrong.  When I took need out of the equation, I realized we are on the same team and we make each other better. I could finally understand every gesture, kind word, and bit of encouragement from you has always been nothing but love. 

I was afraid of what might happen if I became strong enough to not need you.  What happened was that I became dependent on Christ for my strength and needs and was able to level the playing field with you.  I could finally see how you fought for my heart from day one.  I don’t need you in the way I once thought I did.   But today I want you to know that I want you, I choose you, and I promise to make your complete acceptance of me my everyday reality. 

I promise to accept love from you and to look for ways to continually show you love.  I promise to keep working on taking down my walls and allowing myself to be affected by you.  I promise to strive to find comfort in the consistency you bring to my life.  I promise to continue to pray for you as the leader of our family and to trust you without wavering. 

I promise to listen without interrupting and to answer without arguing.  Wait.  I promise to TRY to listen without interrupting and answer without arguing.

I promise to let you in and to truly share this life with you as your equal, your partner, your wife.  Loving you and being loved by you doesn’t make me weak.  It makes me loved.  Little did I know that what I was fighting against was the very thing I needed most. 

I promise to choose growth over perfection as we move forward as partners on the same team. 

When I think about some of the struggles of the last 13 years, I take comfort in knowing that we aren’t defined by where we’ve been, but by where we’re going.  I’m excited to continue on this journey with you, to grow with you, to parent with you, to love you, and to be loved by you. 

Vow Writing

B and I have been planning this vow renewal celebration for our 13th anniversary for about a year now.  It's tomorrow.  I don't have vows written yet.  I'm not totally sure what my deal is.  I like to write; writing usually comes pretty easy for me, and I always have lots to say.  I've had some ideas swirling in my head for a while, but every time I sit down to write, they don't sound right to me.  I have a page written, but I don't think I love any of it.  I keep coming back to it, thinking I'll be inspired to use it as a springboard to getting the perfect vows written.  That hasn't happened yet. 

It might be because I want them to be perfect.  I feel like I have a lot to fix, a lot to promise to make up for, and a lot that I want to acknowledge that I've over come.  I am in a different place than I ever have been before, and I want to properly appreciate where I am, without sounding like I'm magically fixed.  That's a tall order for a two minute speech. 

This Love Stuff

I've written before about my love issues.  When I have more time, I'll link it here in case you're interested. 

I'd say that these last few months have really been a healing time, and a time where I've been able to see from a clearer perspective how things really are.  I'm pretty sure that these new discoveries are things that have always been there; I just hadn't realized them or been open to accepting them.

I used to believe that people only said or did nice things out of obligation.  I figured everyone had their own agenda and was only looking out for themselves.  Yeah, I guess I had become pretty cynical.  Even with my husband, I figured it was an obligation.  Several times over the last few weeks I have been able to stop and see how someone has done something for me, out of nothing but love.  I had a friend invite me and the boys over for lunch when she knew I was having a rough day, and B was out of town.  Instead of worrying about being good enough to be worthy of the invite, or funny enough to be good company, I was able to just be.  We didn't talk much, we didn't stay long, but I left feeling so loved and cared for. 

When I ran my half marathon, I had a few people send me encouraging texts while I was running, and it made me feel so special.  In the past I would've thought they were only being nosy, and were only interested in finding out my time so they could compare and know they are faster.  This time around I was able to just take the encouragement at face value for what it was, gestures of love. 

I grew up in a house where we didn't lend anything to anybody.  We didn't trust anyone to take care of our things or to return them like they said they would.  We didn't invite people to "family" events.  We didn't ask anyone for anything.  If we absolutely had to ask, we worded it so that the person had an out.  "I know you're probably busy, I know it's late notice, I know you probably can't, but..."  That's where I learned to put up these walls.  That's where I learned to do life alone.  That's where I learned that people are bad, people are out to hurt you, people shouldn't be let in. 

Thank God for the healing he is bringing.  I'm so thankful for unexpected things like this, that I couldn't even have known to ask for .  Life isn't meant to be done alone.  Sure, I guess you can, but why would you want to?  I'm liking these people loving on me, and it's pretty great to reciprocate too.

Prodigy In Me

This is the sermon series right now, and I'm trying hard to soak it all in and make something of it.  Some of the great quotes for this series:

• Will you embrace your misery and make it your ministry?
• Figure out what God designed you for and do it!  Pray for obsession, direction, and mandate from God.
• God will keep you in your sweet spot, but He'll never leave you in your comfort zone.
• God's strength is made perfect in my weakness, but His purpose is fulfilled in my strength.
• Nothing you have is something God needs, but everything you Have is all he will use.

I'm spending time trying to think about what this might mean for me.  I think the thought that screws me up is thinking that what I have to offer is too small.  I have felt like if God didn't have a big, BIG project for me, then it must not be something worthwhile.  I am reminding myself that big or small, God has given me something that he hasn't given to anyone else.  His purpose will be fulfilled in my strength.  I feel like I'm getting confirmation that He will use my writing.  I've gotten so many comments lately about notes I've written to people, or someone being inspired by something I posted on facebook.  I'm going to continue to pray that God will use it, big or small, for HIS glory.

Growing up, I wished I could sing.  Oh how I wished I could sing!  My sister could sing, but she didn't want to.  I used to pray and pray that if God would just give me the ability to sing, I would use it and sing all the time!  Well, someone told me the other day that he likes to write.  He said he isn't any good at it, but if he were, he'd write all the time.
Writing -- now that's something I can do.  It's all you, God.

Screw That

I have always been very worried about getting screwed over.  I have always felt like I needed to really look out for myself, because nobody else was, and if I didn't, I would not be treated fairly.  One of the therapists I've seen said an extreme sensitivity to fairness is a byproduct of sexual abuse.  He’s the only one that ever told me that, so I don’t know if it’s true or not.  He might have just made it up.  Either way, extreme sensitivity to fairness absolutely described me. 

In elementary school, if someone was passing out birthday treats, I would sit up tall so they could definitely see me.  I’d clean off my desk so there was nothing else on it; that way they could clearly see that they hadn't given me one yet.  I’d follow them with my eyes.  I’d have a line ready in my head, ready to speak up when they served my neighbor and skipped me.  I had no reason to think that they’d skip me, other than that I felt like I was always the one forgotten.  Always the one left out.  Always the one screwed over.

When I order food through the drive through, I don’t leave the window without counting my change and checking my order.  Not because I've had either messed up in the past, but because I’m worried that somehow I won’t get what is due to me.

At the secretary of state, I would intently watch the number they were on while waiting for mine to be called.  When they called the number before me, I sat on the edge of my seat ready for them to skip over my number.  I just knew that somehow I’d be missed and I would need to fight for myself. 

I've realized that in this healing process, this restoration, and this time of drawing close to God that I have really started to let this go.  I realized it the other day when a situation that would have normally riled me up, really didn't bother me at all.  I thought, “So what.  If I’m right and they are wrong, then I would've saved five bucks.  I’m not hurting for five bucks.”  It was very easy for me to let it go.  Except that I over think things, so I did come back to it, but from a different angle.  I wondered why it didn't bother me, and I just kept coming back to the heart of the matter.  The person had no malice intent.  It would have been a huge hassle for me to prove my case, and for them to fix the situation if I was correct.  God has blessed us financially.  It’s only five bucks.  It was really pretty easy to just walk away, both literally and figuratively.  However, the biggest blessing in all of this was my heart in the matter.  I had a deep sense of peace, a deep soul knowledge that God is taking care of me, and a comfort in letting go of having to worry about myself.  I have always felt like I had to fend for myself.  Whether I really had to or not is not the issue.  I felt like I had to.  There is so much freedom in letting go of feeling like I’m on my own in this world.

The Psalms are full of promises of peace.  “The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”  Psalm 29:11

On this healing journey, this peace has been the biggest surprise blessing for me.  Grace and peace.  I didn't even know I was missing them, but I’m so thankful I've found them.

This Too Shall Pass

This time last year I thought I’d never be happy.  Like really, deep down, not dependent on the day kind of happy.  I was heading into some dark closets with big skeletons, and I really didn’t think I’d come out of it ok.  I can remember days where story after story would replay in my head, and I just had this heaviness that felt like it would never go away.  I figured that my past wasn’t going to go away, and as long as it was there, then joy would not be. 

That was before I understood grace, I guess.  I mean, I assume that’s what the difference is.  I knew about grace.  I knew every bible verse and every song about grace.  But I hadn’t experienced grace.  For me, the grace came in two steps.  First, I allowed myself to accept grace for the things that I had done that I thought weren’t completely my fault.  I knew they were bad, but I also knew I wouldn’t have done them if I didn’t have the abuse and self-worth issues.  So since I felt a little bit justified, I only needed a little bit of grace, at least that was my rationale.  Then there came a point where I made myself finally reach an age of accountability.  I’m not sure why this took so long, but I finally found myself at a point where I didn’t feel like I had any justification for something I had done.  Once the confession came, and there wasn’t anything I could do except accept grace, and move on, that’s when I felt like the flood gates of heaven opened and grace like rain covered me.  And that’s when I finally felt the darkness begin to fade.  That’s when I was able to finally recognize God’s crazy love for me.  That’s when I could finally feel loved by people around me.  I didn’t think it was ever going to happen, but I’m so thankful it did.  Not only do I feel like I have a sense of peace and joy, but I feel like I can finally move on.  As if peace and joy weren’t already huge big deal issues for me, moving on is just as awesome!

I’m still trying to process a lot of this.  On one hand, I feel like I want to move on, and not look back.  On another hand, I want to be able to recognize that all this junk in my past is just a small piece to the complicated, broken person I am today.  I want to be able to feely and openly talk with others about it in hopes of putting purpose to the pain, in that it can help someone else, but I sure don’t want to just be the girl that makes everything about her abusive past.  I’m going to continue to pray that God will just have his way with it.  I’ve completely given it to God to do with as he will, and I trust that whatever does or does not come out of that, is for the best.

On a somewhat related note, I’ve also completely given my writing to God.  I don’t know if he has any plans for it or not.  I don’t know if anything will come of this blog or not.  I used to be really good about sending people handwritten notes and cards, and I’d like to get back to that.  I know that I’m much more comfortable sharing love and encouragement in writing than I am in person, so I’m praying that maybe God can use that.  I’m not sure, but I feel like this might be the gift he has given me to use for his glory.  If it’s “only” sending encouraging words to people who need it, then so be it.  I will be faithful in the small things and trust his direction and leading.  I used to stress and worry so much about being in God’s will.  In college, I was certain there was 1 career, 1 future employer, 1 job that he had planned for me and if I wasn’t listening carefully enough then I’d screw it up.  Man, just writing that now gives me anxiety all over again!  But now, I have a sense of peace when it comes to thinking about being in God’s will.  What does he ask?  Seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. Love your neighbor as yourself.  If I’ve got those things down, and I’m open to his leading, then I’m good to go.  Perhaps for the first time ever, I’m open to his leading, and there is such joy and peace in that.

Hope

** More from August 2004. It was a rough summer. **

Another long night.
The darkness covers the ground.
The darkness covers my soul.
I seek the light that shimmers
under the door.
I push through the heaviness
of the blackness
to get to the shimmer of light.

I can almost feel the warmth.
A glimmer of light,
A glimmer of hope.
A spark to remind me
that darkness doesn't always prevail.
I push through the heaviness
of the blackness
to get to the shimmer of light.

A reminder of the sun.
A spark of warmth,
A spark of a hope.
I can remember this darkness
and I can remember how
I pushed through the heaviness
of the blackness
to get to the shimmer of light.

While sorrow may last for a night
Joy comes in the morning.

Run

** Another one from the summer of 2004.**

I feel crazy again. I don't think 'normal' people spend this much time thinking this deeply about stuff. Analyzing every move - or every move not made.


I come from a long line of
leavers.
My answer always to
run.
Run.
Let the fog come around me.
Who do I want to
be?
I am.
I am the new
me.
Fit for the new life.
Until it gets hard,
then I run.

Run
and carry with me
all the heavy past.
Make believe
I left it behind.
Bury it so deep, imagine
it's gone.
I run
and I'm not better off
than had I stayed.

Here I am
to unpack
the heaviness of the past.
No more make believe.
Too tired to
run.


I don't really like what I just wrote, but I'm not going to go back over it right now. BTW, I stole the first line "I come from a long line of leavers" from Cademan's Call.

They don't close Florida

**Another old post from July 2004.  Ten years later, I honestly feel like I'm actually dealing with and moving on from some of this stuff.  Finally.**

Another earth shattering revelation...!
If I just accepted all those things about me on my list I've been making...just accept and keep going...I would be a totally different person! Without even realizing it, I put a ton of effort and energy into covering those things up, or fixing them, or working really really hard to make them disappear. If I would just chill out and be happy the way I am, then I'd be happy the way I am!
If I was OK with what I am and what I'm not, I would be a happier person, more confident of myself, and probably a heck of a lot more fun! And it would really help me to feel OK with myself if I thought those closest to me genuinely thought I was OK the way I am.  I don't feel like that's the case.
It takes a lot of energy to live as the pretender. To live every moment as something you're not. Been doing that for years. And I learned it from my mom. That right there is what scares me about someday being a mom. My mom never set out to teach me to cover up who I really am in order to be what pleases people and what looks better on paper. We didn't practice that every Saturday like we practiced reading. She never told me that it's not all right to have a difficult time with driving directions (this is long before Siri told you where to go.) in the same way she told me it's not Ok to drink milk out of the carton. But those are the things I learned from her regardless.
In my education classes we call that "hidden curriculum."
In church we call that the "human factor" or "human-ness."
We are all people with our own thoughts on things, our own likes and dislikes, and as long as one person is conveying information to another person, information in any form, it will have some biases of the presenter. No matter how hard you try to be objective, try not to emphasize any words more than any others, try to not make facial expressions or give off body language, no matter how hard you try, you do it. I think it's the really smart people that are least effected by it. I'm not so sure what I mean by 'smart' right there. I don't know if I mean common sense smart, socially smart, or book smart. But anyway, the 'smart' ones are the ones that can take the intended material and learn from it and pull out the biases and not be effected by them. That's so not me! With most things, I am so easily swayed by people around me!! But I'm starting to find my voice and have an opinion, and have reasons for my opinion, and the hard part...sharing my opinion and reasons without backing down at confrontation. Ouch. We'll leave that lesson on the "To Learn" list cuz I'm not so much there yet. Anyway, what was I talking about?
Oh yeah, being like my mom even though she didn't explicitly teach me to do that. But I learned it.
I learned it.
Every last nasty habit, wrong assumption, prejudice, mind set, emotion, and expression. And although I've spent a lot of time trying to reteach myself in these areas with "good" material, I'm not there yet. And I wonder if I ever will be. (I am now.  WIN!) And even if I am, I'm still not perfect, and I'm going to inexplicably teach my children the things I'm not good at. I guess kind of like teaching them that the color red is called yellow. Maybe it doesn't hurt anything, but maybe it really does. I'm so not cut out for being a parent. I'm still carrying around a lot of guilt for hurting people in my life as a result of who I am. I can't imagine the guilt of watching my children struggle because of something I taught them, whether I meant to or not.
Watching my children struggle as a result of something I taught them.
Watching MY children struggle as a result of something I-I-I taught them!
Guilt. It's such a short word. But it's heavy. If I had to draw a picture of what guilt looked like, I think it would be a big glob of murky clay with weeds and bugs and stuff in it. Ugly. Heavy. Sticky. Smelly. Dirty. And it stains. Did you know the kind of clay you pull up from the bottom of a pond (I guess a pond in Michigan that is) stains? Did you know that guilt stains? At least that's been my experience. When I feel like it should be gone, and I feel like I've given it up, and every last little piece of it is gone, my hands are washed and I've cleaned under my fingernails, I still look down and see the stain it left and that brings back memories, and memories seem to invite me to pickup that nasty glob of guilt again. What would the word memories look like? I bet my depiction would be a lot different than yours.
Back to stains.
Stains.
But God washes white as snow?
White as snow.
You can't have a stain on something that's white as snow.
But right now I'm thinking "white as snow" is just a cliche. Probably cuz I've never experienced it. Yes, I'm the little kid with the mind set that if it hasn't happened to me, then it hasn't ever happened. (That's not little kid mentality. They believe in Santa Clause without ever seeing.) That sounds more like an adult mentality. An egocentric adult.
Egocentric.
Add humble to the list of things I'm not.

Game Over

 ** I'm still going through some old posts on my blog, and found this one today.  It is from May 2004.  Three years into my marriage.  Love has never come easy for me.  I didn't want to love B.  For me, it would have been easier for him to leave me than for me to love him, and that has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.  Thank you God for a husband who loved me too much to let me go. **


Letting go is something I just have to do. I have walls in my heart that must come down. I don’t want help, I’ll take them down as fast as I can, but please don’t rush me. I promise I won’t stop working on it, I won’t stop tearing them down.
Loving you is not the worst thing that could happen in my life. I guess I fooled myself into thinking it was. I thought that cold was okay, that dark was good, and I look around only to find loneliness. I hope it’s not too late. I hope the damage can be undone. I want to become real, I want to love you. I want to see you as someone that I can’t live without.
You’re up on a pedestal, better than I, only because I put you there. If I truly quit playing games with myself and with you, I would realize that it is my fault, not yours. I’m the one that made this into a game, that thought it would be fun to play hard to get with my emotions. I’m the one that played the part of the hard ass who didn’t need anyone but herself, and look where it has gotten me. Three years later it has caused serious hurts to the one I should love so deeply. You know when I would have thought the game was over? I would have thought I won when you finally admitted that I didn’t love you and you were moving on. My mind is twisted and I’m so sorry for the damage that has been done to it long before you were in the picture. I’m not sure why I thought this game was okay. I don’t know what I thought being too tough to love anyone else would prove. Here I sit, having almost lost it all, exactly as planned. But if I truly didn’t love, then I wouldn’t care; I wouldn’t be writing to you about it.
I do care. Game over, defenses are down, I voluntarily let you in, I won’t make you fight me anymore, and I won’t make you beg to hear the words. I won’t withhold affection from you, I won’t try to upset you, I won’t push you away, I won’t put you above myself, I won’t play games anymore. Game over, and I’ve made us both out to be losers.
The wall is coming down, I’m done, and I’m ready to be real. I don’t know why I thought it was sissy-like to love someone, or why I thought it made me too girly. Everyone loves someone and it’s okay, it’s even a good thing really.
So I apologize, for the thousandth time in our marriage. But really, I’m done with all that. I will not be so difficult, I will not make you earn my love, I will not be so cold with you anymore.
Believe it or not, I do love you.
And I’ll tell you over and over and over again until you do believe me. And I’ll kiss your face forever, and hug you before you even ask. I want to be your wife. Even though you’ve always come across to me as the person who has it all, I will still love you, even if you don’t want it anymore.

Good Drugs

This is a follow up post to this one.

I'm really thanking God for modern medicine.  I am feeling so much better.  So freakin' much better, even! (Because when you throw freakin' in there, there's no mistaking just how much better I'm feeling.)  Not only am I working on adjusting the depression medicine, I finally got my ADD medicine refilled....which is a life saver in and of itself.  For me, the two go hand in hand, because when my mind races all day, it's bad news.  When I'm in a funk, my mind replays story after story after story of where I've screwed up, why I'm not good enough, and how I continually mess up.  I'm working on the negative self talk, and it's getting better, but when I'm down, it's just so hard to fight it.  Besides my mind racing and replaying horrible stories from my past, I can't concentrate on anything right in front of me, and then I'm down on myself for that too.  So when the ADD is in check, it's a little easier to allocate the energy to fighting the depression.

I have some definite opinions about depression.  I still feel like many people think it's just an overreaction to some bad days, it's just a negative or pessimistic attitude, or it's just lacking motivation to do things in life.  Let me just tell you:  Depression sucks.  I've battled it for years.  Depression led me to become a cutter and develop an eating disorder, but that's only one small part of the complicated, broken person that I am. I'm fighting it, I'm trusting in God, I'm seeking help, I'm developing new coping strategies all the time, AND I'm taking medication for it. I didn't realize until recent conversations that antidepressants and ADD/ADHD medicine is still viewed by some as not necessary.  It's frustrating.  It's not the 1980s anymore.  Modern technology has come so far in not only proving depression to be a chemical imbalance, but that medication works.  It's so hard to fight the stigma of mental illness when people are close minded. 

On one hand I want to be the voice that helps bring about awareness, because I think with awareness will come less judgement and stereotyping.  On the other hand, I just don't think I'm healthy enough yet for the conversations that would invoke.

Guitar Lessons

So I started taking guitar lessons.  I'm excited to finally learn how to play well enough to actually play a song that people will recognize!

But my guitar lessons are only about 14% about learning how to play the guitar.
I'd say it's somewhere around 48% about learning how to be humble, 23% about not always being right, and 15% about rewriting the past.

I hate to not know what's going on.  I hate when I don't know more than someone else about a subject.  It is so humbling for me to try something and possibly fail, right in front of someone else.  It's really a stretch for me sit with Jordan and try something and have him say, "No, not quite. More like this."  He is very kind and a great teacher, it's just that I'm not used to being the student.  I may have control issues...

It's difficult for me to not be right.  It's really hard for me to practice something for a week and then find out I'm not doing it right.  I know it's no big deal.  It really isn't.  I told my students all the time to just keep trying, and I really didn't judge them at all for not getting something the first or second time.  But when it's my turn, man it's hard to keep plugging away at it and not give up.

I've had my guitar since I was 16.  Ben took me to Elderly Music in Lansing and helped me pick it out.  We worked on a few things together and he taught me most of the basic chords, but then he moved.  My dad and step-mom got me guitar lessons for my 17th birthday, but when I went to the first lesson, I found out that they hadn't actually paid for them, and I was stuck with the bill.  I worked on teaching myself some stuff when I lived at my mom's, but my mom and sister always made fun of me, said I could never be a music person, and that it was stupid of me to try.  I really haven't messed with my guitar in probably 13 years.  I never got rid of it because it was something that I really wanted to learn to do....I just never had the guts to be humble enough to not be right, and to be a good student.

I might sound pretty bad right now, but it's not really about that.  I'm learning a lot that has nothing to do with music.

Random Thoughts

I tried to stay on topic, but it was feeling too forced.  So this post is about a few different ideas that may or may not be connected.

“You need to learn to change the inner dialogue to one of respecting yourself now, as regular and unromantic as you are sometimes, or you live in great swoops of emotion, always afraid that the moment the dust settles, people will see the real you and reject you.”  This is a quote that I wrote down from a book I read recently, and can’t remember what book it’s from.  My guess is it is a Geneen Roth book.

I think this is another way of saying what I’ve said before – that I like to live in chaos.  I like this quote because it not only talks about that, but it includes a responsibility component.  It includes me taking charge of the inner dialogue.  I’ve been working on that one, and it’s not easy.

I’ve heard it said that you are your own worst enemy, and I know it’s definitely true for me.  I’m very critical of myself.  I’ve always judged myself harshly in many different areas.  I learned this from my mom.  My mom and my sister are very judgmental of other people and every time I heard them make a negative comment about someone, I made a mental note to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake the poor soul being judged did.  

When I hear them talking about my cousin who had a baby without being married, I’m reminded of why I lived in constant fear of messing up as a child/teenager.  There is absolutely no grace to be offered and I know without a doubt that I would not have been accepted by my family if I did anything they didn’t approve of.  And since my other issues resulted in me not having any close friends, family was all I had.  I had to earn their acceptance. Here enters my perfectionism tendency.  

I’ve been working hard on rewriting that inner dialogue.  I am constantly telling myself that “nobody cares but you.” I have to continually remind myself that honestly nobody cares if I like something on my pizza that they think is gross.  I have always worked so hard to not have anything that anyone could make fun of me for.  I kept my likes and dislikes hidden, and my passions secret.  I didn’t want to give anyone knowledge that could later be used against me.  Because that’s what I grew up with.  I was constantly teased and harassed by my family for liking something, or not liking something else.  And this is why I didn’t have close friends.  Nobody knew me.  I didn’t give anyone anything they could connect with, so the relationships were always kept at a distance. 

I’m working on it.  I’m working on sharing more of myself.  I’m working on taking down the walls that I have.  I’m working on not judging myself with ridiculous standards, and I’m also working very hard at not judging others.  Whatever it is, it could easily be me.  My toddler is one “no” away from throwing a screaming fit in the store, I’m one accident away from not having a vehicle, I’m one emergency away from being burdened with medical bills.  

I’ve also heard that whatever you judge yourself by, you’re also using to judge others, which I think is true.  If I’m judging myself about my weight, then I’m always looking at everyone else and seeing how I compare.  And if I think that other people don’t notice that, then I’m in for a rude awakening.  So if I truly do want to be the person who offers grace, then I need to lay off the judgments, for myself and for others.