21 Days: Day 11

Despite how much I talk about it, I rarely seeweight. That sounds silly, I know, but it comes from years of my mother’s narrow focus on it. “Did you see so-and-so? Boy, did she put on weight!” and on and on and on. My brain evolved not to see it. Sometimes, I notice when people lose weight, but because of my neurotic tendency toward catastrophic thought, my immediate reaction is not that they look great or must be working out. No, I fear they have either a drug problem or terminal illness. To be fair, I’ve watched people in my life shrink and disappear from both of those things so it’s not all in my head.

But it isn’t just outsiders, I can’t see it with myself or Brad or the kids. The only way I know is by the scale. I never look different to myself. Sometimes I feel different. Sometimes my clothes–and wedding ring–are tighter. When I was a little bit bigger of a nutbag, I used to get really freaked out about the wedding ring thinking it was an ominous sign. It was actually just a sign that I was 22 and 100 pounds when we got married. I don’t want to be either of those things again. Still sometimes against my better judgment and the voice of reason screaming, “DON’T DO IT! NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF THIS!” I still get on the scale and think, “Oh boy.”

Thanks for indulging me. I needed to get that off my chest.

1. I was wide awake at 4:46–probably because I fell asleep at 9 p.m.–but the alertness that comes with waking up unaided when your body is fully rested makes for pleasant blessing counting. Of course I stayed in bed and counted until the alarm did go off.

2. Today, I happened upon a person from my past. “By happened upon,” I mean that she came into my consciousness, and I googled her. It wasn’t malicious; I just wondered what became of her. We were either reasons or seasons to each other, but I never figured it out. I think a lot about the reasons and seasons people. Mostly because I want to make sure to learn the lesson the first time so as not to repeat any painful ones.

That rabbit trail led me to forgiveness. I think, talk and write about forgiveness quite a bit. Although I have read and heard this many different times in a variety of ways, for whatever reason it seemed to click in my head today: Forgiveness doesn’t absolve others; it allows you to move on.

Forgiveness is permission to let go of the hurts, slights, offenses, traumas, or whatever is taking up an unnecessary amount your psychic energy without producing anything positive. Forgiveness allows you to be free from ruminating over the pain and the people who caused it. Forgiveness is a gift to ourselves.

Forgiveness is not, however, a free pass. When we forgive a person we love so that we can move closer in a relationship, then we should absolutely forgive and forget. However, I get all idealistic and dreamy and decide to invite the wrong type of person back into my life or heart again. I probably don’t need to tell you this is a bad idea. Guess what happens? They hurt me again, and I have to start forgiving them from scratch. Please learn from my example and spare yourself. Don’t get all spiritually conceited and try to break bread with the jerks of your past. Just leave them in the past.

 

3. Today, in my Jesus journal, the devotion was about listening. I know that I talk a lot sometimes, but more often in real life, I listen. Actually, I am drawn to people who want to tell me their life stories and vice versa. It’s a tiny defense mechanism, but it works out. People need a listener, and I often like to be anonymous since I’m so open and transparent here. Tangent. When I pray and then listen, I know who is getting thank you note. Today, I got a thank you for a thank you. How ’bout that little circle of love?

 

How are you guys doing? How are your fasts? I made some really good soup today. Here’s my Daniel Fast board with all the recipes I have been yammering about. Did you make anything good today? What was your meaningful experience?

 

P.S. I wrote this at about 10 a.m., then when I started editing at 7:30, I messed up and deleted the whole darn thing and had to rewrite. I wasn’t particularly grateful for that.

 

xoxo

21 Days: Day 5

Well, my friends, I might in fact be addicted to coffee. I had two cups this morning. But, I’m okay with that. Sick of me talking about coffee? I know, right? But I’m all freaking jacked up on the caffeine, man! This is a lot like when I quit smoking and then talked ad nauseum about quitting smoking. I was gonna link one post, but when I searched “quitting smoking” on my blog about 10 posts came up. Like I said, AD NAUSEUM. Interested in quitting smoking or reading about someone who quit/started/quit/started/quit…here you go. It has been almost 2 1/2 years since I quit the last time, by the way, so I consider myself an official ex-smoker, not that I’d ever get complacent with that.

1. Shockingly, school was canceled again today. My sweet fasting sister text me this morning and said, “How the heck are we supposed to make it through three snow days without coffee?” I took a deep inhalation of the creamy delicious cup of salvation in my hand and fessed up that I had raised my white flag. But I was up and at ’em today, counted the heck out of some blessings, did yoga, showered and dressed (WITH makeup on) by 9:30 a.m. I mention this simply because it is a huge feat for me to exercise, shower, and put real clothes on in the morning. Normally I rock gym clothes–whether or not I exercise–and no makeup til mid afternoon. This is a lot. I was super caffeinated–and grateful.

2. Mmmmm…so much today. So. Much. Stuff. I was happy, productive, so “Oh what a beautiful morning, Oh what a beautiful day! I’ve got a beautiful feeeeeeeling Everything’s going my way!” You know, from Oklahoma? Show tunes. Caffeine. Rehab, might be next. Anyhooooo, I have this awesome angel friend who just happens to be a psychiatrist–and a pretty good one according to my gut and also his freaking world-class credentials. We don’t know each other except through one meeting, some mutual friend/relatives and correspondence via writing–by hand and email. He is a very dear kind person. Also probably a good guy to have on your side should you need an expert witness… not that I would. This morning he sent me an article about the benefits of coffee with a sweet note; the subject line read: “Be Kind to Yourself.” You know, in a great big world of people and places and random inner-connectedness, the universe brought me this kind person, who happens to be a mental health professional. Add to that: In two days, two different friends shared with me some pretty freaking soul-crushing shit that was going on in their lives. I love these women like they’re part of me, so to listen to them, hear the aching and questioning in their quavering voices. And you know what I do? Nothing. Listen. Love them. Cry with them. Hold their hands. But that’s enough. That helps. But I feel like, What More Can I Do??? And today, in the midst of my secretly kinda beating myself up for drinking coffee … I mean, a little bit, in a trying-too-hard-to-seem-okay way that trained mental health professionals see through and send you a little note that says, “Be Kind to Yourself.” Phew. Okay. Thank. YOU. That’s really it though; isn’t it? Be kind to yourself. Be kind to other people.  Namaste.

3. I have a really perfect note to write today. To a person I have never ever thanked for how much a person she gave birth to changed my life.

Today was my absolute best day this week. Being around people who really love you…being encouraged by people who really love you…being able to encourage and love people…it’s just so amazing. How are you guys doing? If you need encouraged, email me, call me, text me. Thanks for being with me on this journey!! I love you all.

xoxo

Full Speed Ahead

I just wanted to take a minute to thank you, my friends, for reading, commenting and sharing your reactions to what I write. I’m really vulnerable and transparent in this little space, and you always make me feel less alone in my struggles. That’s such a good feeling. Your kindness is an amazing blessing; thank you.

Since last week, I’ve been paying closer attention to my interactions with people and the vibe I give off. Men and women. Brad told me recently, “Sometimes you change the rules, and you don’t always let people know.” That is a very true statement. God bless my man who can lovingly point things out in me that I am unable to see. It took him about 23 years to master this without making me feel defensive (or for me to realize that he was actually being loving and not critical or condescending.)

Anyway, back to changing the rules. I do. All the time. Quick example: I decide that I no longer want to go to the gym because there’s a creepy guy there who stalks me–I’m kidding, a little–but I don’t tell my gym friend. I just start saying no. All the time. She thinks I’m mad at her, which is completely untrue, but I didn’t communicate the rule change.

Another example: I nearly always decline “going out” invitations. But when a bunch of my friends go out and post awesome pictures on Facebook, I would sometimes feel hurt. In the past, I said no, so if I decide now that I’d like to be included, I need to advise my friends of the rule change, instead of whining about being left out.

Evidently feeling left out is a huge trigger for me because on a few occasions, my extended family have done things and not invited me, and I have felt extremely hurt. Granted, I’m a hermit who declines about 97% of invitations, so very few people would ever consider that my feelings would be hurt by not being invited somewhere. Additionally, I am positive that none of my family would intentionally exclude me to be hurtful. Still…trigger.

Once a friend told me when she hears people talking about doing something fun if she wants to do it, she simply invites herself. She’s absolutely delightful, so of course everyone would want her to come along, but that was kind of a revelation for me. Oh, hey, just say you want to go. Huh.

Sometimes I get so upset over slights that have mostly occurred in my head that I cut people completely off from my heart so that they are incapable of hurting me again. They generally have no idea why or what they’ve done. I’m working on the whole “setting healthy boundaries” thing. It’s going swimmingly.

Despite the aforementioned neuroses, I am really, really close to a few people. These people know all my secrets. I’m actually very proud of that because up until a year or so ago, I desperately kept those secrets to myself, fearing that the baggage I carried around would alienate even the most loyal person.

But outside of my inner circle, and some wonderful friends whom I adore but try not to drag into my cyclone of crazy, I am better at one-sided relationships. I used to joke that I had enough friends and wasn’t auditioning new ones, but it wasn’t really a joke. I like to listen to people’s stories without having to share anything about myself. This usually works fine since lots of people would rather talk than listen. But I’ve also pushed people away because after sharing personal things with them, I felt they couldn’t be trusted with the information. I often advise girlfriends: People who gossip to you will gossip about you. But, it’s always difficult to listen to your own advice.

And as I continue to learn: I can’t change anyone else’s behavior, but I can control my behavior as well as my reactions and perceptions. I have had to rethink (or overthink) how I present myself to people. It’s natural to feel close to someone whom you feel gets you, and I get lots of people. I think God gave me that gift in order to show people kindness and compassion. However, there are people who will misuse and take advantage of gifts.

I really need to exercise discernment more consistently. For me, discernment usually comes in two ways. One: A sick feeling in my stomach that says, “This person is not genuine and does not want you to achieve your highest good.” Two: My husband saying, “Babe, you might wanna put the brakes on a little bit with this one.”

So it continues, revisiting the Boundaries book that has been collecting dust on my shelf, learning how to be kind and compassionate without becoming enmeshed, and finally back to The Four Agreements, which today sound like this in my head:

• Be impeccable with your word–don’t say mean things about people. Ever.
• Don’t take anything personally–no one thought you would even want to be invited.
• Don’t make assumptions–you have to tell people when you change the rules. No one else lives in your head, lucky for them.
• Always do your best–don’t beat yourself up; just keep trying harder.

Why Do You Let that S%#T Bother You?

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them; the first time,” Maya Angelou

A friend of mine recently posted that quote, and it reminded me how important that sentiment is in my life. I mean how important trying to remember that sentiment should be in my life. See, I have this bad habit. This really bad habit. Sometimes instead of loving people for who they are, I love an idealized version of who I think they could become. I love their higher self, and I pour my hope and faith into believing they will achieve that.

Here’s the issue with that: Sometimes people don’t want to achieve my idealized version of themselves. Sometimes individuals don’t even share my vision that they can be better people. Sometimes…people are perfectly happy being oblivious and unaware of the dreams and potential I am believing for them. Coming to this realization (that people don’t care to reach the awareness and enlightenment I want for them) is always more painful for me than for them.

My daughter does this too, and several of my closest (and like-minded) friends do as well. It makes me feel better to know that I’m not the only only one. It makes me feel better to say, “These smart, beautiful, amazing women do the same stupid stuff I do.”

My husband does not. He is actually outstanding at accepting people for exactly who they are. (Unless that person is arrogant or a bad driver, then you’re gonna see the west side in that boy.) For years, when I would share my feelings with him he would say in the most helpful way, “I don’t know why you let that shit bother you.” Well, I don’t either. It isn’t conscious, or I would most assuredly choose NOT to let said shit bother me.

A few years ago, he stopped doing that–PRAISE THE LORD–and started encouraging me at least to see, if not accept, people as they are. As I tried harder to do this, I realized: When people disappoint me, it is rarely because their behavior isn’t congruent with who they are; it is nearly always because their behavior isn’t congruent with who I want them to be. Applying this premise in your life may not save you years of therapy, but it will probably spare you some hurt feelings.

Except … I don’t always remember to apply it. That’s the problem. Sometimes my heart is already hurt before I analyze the situation, recognize my expectations and let people own their behavior. In the not too distant past, I would ruminate for wayyyy toooo lonnggggg harboring resentment and bitterness, nursing hurt feelings and disappointment, but now I realize that any amount of time spent on that is too much.

I recently re-read The Four Agreements, and I’m seriously considering getting them tattooed somewhere where I can see them every moment of every day. Have you read it? You should read it.

1. Be impeccable with your word.
2. Don’t take anything personally.
3. Don’t make assumptions.
4. Always do your best.

Logically, the one I struggle with the most is, “Don’t take anything personally.” Ugghhhhh. It goes right along with my constant prayer, “Less of me; more of you.” I always get in God’s way.

So, today, I am going to be me, and I’m going to let you be you. Whoever that is. Even if I think you aren’t living up to your potential. Even if I think you could be a better you if only you would stop being so insecure, or quit gossiping, or show a little humility (that was for you Brad Bell). Today (well, for the next few minutes until I get derailed) I am going to focus more on the log in my own eye and less on the speck in yours.

And this…

I have a lot of stuff rumbling around in my head, so if you’re here, be warned: My mind is a crazy place. I often share too much, but in my family of origin no one talked about anything unpleasant. Everyone pretended everything was fine. You know how effed up fine is, right? Well, then people did drugs and killed themselves and manifested that bad stuff they didn’t talk about in worse ways. So…I talk about stuff. Awkward, painful, personal stuff. Really, I write about it because I can barely speak a coherent sentence.

That brings me to a point I’ve been ruminating on for oh, um, a few days. I realize that in sharing this a lot of you may think that I need mental help. True story: I just read two books about people who are far less crazy than I am spending time in mental institutions. Given that knowledge, I’m pretty sure on any given day, I would be a perfect candidate for commitment, but I digress. The main reason I’m sharing my neurosis is that I think (or hope) others suffer this malady and don’t want to tell anyone. Therefore, I’m going to tell you how crazy I am so you can feel less crazy. Ready? Here we go.

Whenever I have a conversation with someone, I spend a lot of time after analyzing (or criticizing mercilessly) everything I said. It sounds a lot like this: “Wow, that was so stupid. Why did you say that? Why did you talk so much when you should have been listening? What on earth made you tell that story? Really? Why would you divulge THAT in a five minute exchange of pleasantries? You’re an idiot.”

I feel as if I should keep a stack of cards in my purse for such occasions when I have to interact further than, “Hi, how are you?” with people. Then, rather than trip over my tongue and then spend the next week beating myself up over all the things I said or didn’t say or should have said differently, I could hand each person a card wherein they would find my sentiments expressed in thoughtful and genuine, if unimpressive, prose.

Would that be weird? Because I really think I’m going to go with that.

My next point has very little to do with the first point, except to further solidify my kook status. I do not like to be touched when I am sad. In fact, I feel violated when people touch me when I’m sad. I don’t want to be hugged, cuddled, coddled, or patted sympathetically. Normally, I’m a big fan of physical affection, so this is difficult for some people (my husband) to understand.

When I am sad, I go to a different place, by myself, wrap up in the awful yet awfully familiar feelings until I process them. But it is my place, and I don’t take guests there. I will talk to you until my voice expires about my feelings when I’m ready, but please don’t touch me. And if I tell you that I’m okay, just accept that; I’ll tell you how I really am when I’m ready. Now this makes me think of my non-touching friends and how I try to be mindful of their personal space but still invade it sometimes because I love them so much and want to hug them. I’m sorry. And it reminds me of so many times I’ve tried to take my friends deeper rather than just letting them pretend they were okay. It’s a fine line, and I have terrible balance. I’m sorry.

And then this: On Sunday, I got to see my daughter for about 6 hours, and then I had to say goodbye to her again. Last time for two weeks, this time for a month. Yes, these are the opportunities of a lifetime. Yes, she is so blessed. Yes, we are amazingly proud of her. Yes, yes, yes. Except what some people don’t get is this: It feels just as bad to say goodbye to your grown kid as it does to drop your baby off at day care.

It doesn’t get easier. Your kid doesn’t stop being your kid because she grows up and goes to college. You don’t wake up one day and no longer worry about what he’s eating, how she is sleeping, if he is safe, if she is scared. It still rips your heart out when your 20-year-old is homesick as when your toddler cries and reaches for you. When she is sad, I ache. I don’t imagine that is ever going to change.

Now that this is all out there, I would like to apologize if I said anything stupid to you, hugged you when you didn’t want to be touched, revealed inappropriately personal information during an impersonal conversation or pushed you to tell me that you aren’t really okay when you just wanted to pretend you’re okay. I am a work in progress. For those of you who love me anyway, I am outrageously and eternally grateful.

Mowana, Magic, and Monday

Snow is not my deal. I don’t like to be cold, so I politely decline to make snowmen, ride sleds, ski, or ice skate. Well, I have ice skated on occasion. It’s rare. Mostly, when the kids want to play outside, it’s on Daddy. Granted, in my overachieving 20’s and and early 30’s, I suffered through these activities, but not now. My kids know I love them; I don’t have to get my toes frostbitten to prove how much.

However, this past weekend, we attended Making Room for Jesus at Camp Mowana*, and my snow perspective shifted a bit. We hiked through beautiful, picturesque, landscapes; every picture I took looked like a Christmas card. Okay, I still had frozen toes and skipped sled riding and the second hike, but for awhile, it was pretty amazing.

In those quiet, still, cold, and beautiful moments, God felt so close. It is easy to feel close to God when you remove the pressures of daily life. No tv’s, ipads, xboxes, or computers, but no one gets bored. Kids play chess, hike, color and make crafts. Moms had great conversations, Bible studies, and spent time in prayer, fellowship, and worship.

It is one of those places where God is just so near. You know? You can feel His presence. You are calm. You are centered.

The bad thing about going to those places is that then you come back home. Home to dog hair–seriously, IT’S DECEMBER! ENOUGH ALL READY. Home to migraines and tummy aches and another day off school. Home to “Are you done with your Christmas shopping yet?” I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED. Home to whining and bickering and sickness and cooking dinner and shopping, and did I mention the freaking dog hair?

Just yesterday, I felt so calm, centered, close to God. Well, I was close to Him this morning as I yell-prayed, “Please LORD, I have so much to do. PLEASE, Lord, no more headaches. NO MORE STOMACHACHES. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE.” And God said, “No.”

But in His no, He reminded me that cleaning, working, writing, scrubbing, gifting, shopping, cooking, and stressing can wait. Stop, look around, and embrace the magic in the moments that you are forced to be still. It’s not about going away to find Jesus in a perfect, beautiful place. Sure, that’s great and wonderful, but it’s really about making room for Him in my messy house, cluttered mind, and imperfect life.

It’s about shifts in perspective. It’s about seeing the obstacles as opportunities. I didn’t make it to the gym Monday, but I got to spend the afternoon watching movies with my sweet boy. I’m not going to finish my shopping today, but I get to hold my snuggly littlest all day. I’m not going to spend as much time this holiday with my precious firstborn, but she is going to have an amazing experience on the west coast.

Today, Lord, I’m thankful for messed up plans and the magical opportunities they present. I’m thankful for the ability to see You not only in the picture perfect beauty of Mowana, but also in the messy chaotic beauty on North Park. I’m not thankful for dog hair, but I’m a work in progress. Amen.

* We are not Lutheran, but our good friends are. Also, the camp is more loving Jesus, less being Lutheran.