And then one day....

There are days like yesterday. Sometimes for days in a row.

And then one day you wake up and feel like yourself again. The part of yourself that doesn't have the dark grief-cloud sitting over you making you feel like you are stuck inside of something that's pressing down hard on you. Pressing out tears until you feel dried up.

And you know grief will return as it always does because it's supposed to. That's how grief works; it comes in waves and cycles and it has to be felt and entered into when it arrives. The feelings over the losses never really go away if you choose to be alive.

And the losses never become found. Instead, it's all the losses that somehow make you become found because you know that you are really found in Him. That's when you find joy and life in the midst of the grief and remind yourself that you really are okay. And you know, even if no one else does, that you are working through it differently than you ever have before. And you know and He knows too, that there is progress and change in your heart because He is the one who is transforming you. And not even the sneakiest whispers of evil's hissing lies could convince you otherwise. No, not today.

You feel the golden sky breaking through the blue. You feel like the fuscia and amber clouds bursting with color and beauty and life.
Today, this day, you can breathe and smile and walk tall because you feel alive. You are alive to hope and to your dreams and to possibility. And it feels good to feel the cloud pass again even knowing that it's not really gone forever.

You feel like a sunrise and a sunset, both beginning and ending. Both full of hope and promise. You feel close to the One who created both and is both. The One who is the Alpha and Omega. The one who made you uniquely you and is in the grief and out of it and doesn't leave you alone either way.

The little things

"Are you okay?" She asked. A new face of a very friendly and kind co-worker that recently was added to our staff, and before she left for her lunch break she noticed something about my countenance and looked at me as though she really wanted to know. We've bonded over things like tattoos and non-denominational churches and Pinterest and I feel grateful to have someone else here a little bit like me.

"I don't know. There's not like one thing I can pin-point. I'm just in this funk and feel like I need to cry about everything." And it's true. This funk has been with me for a few weeks now. I've felt like I could cry at the drop of a hat, and I have. But I've been stuffing my tears more than I've cried them.

And it's not one big thing. It's the little things. The little things that maybe add up into one big something.

It's the comment I heard in Sunday school yesterday that reminded why I don't really like going to Sunday school.

It's the saying goodbye to B.

It's the missing my husband all weekend because he was gone hunting.

It's the walking hard places with my husband because I love him so much.

It's the dirty dishes that I left in the sink this morning because I just didn't want to do them yesterday.

It's the knowing that my mother-in-law will wash them all and clean the house too because I'm at work all day and that's just what she does even though I've told her she doesn't need to do any of those things.

It's the crying out of frustration and shame because I don't have anyone to watch Tommy at the drop of a hat other than my in-laws who watch him way too much.

It's the negative pregnancy test from over the weekend.

It's the second negative pregnancy test I took the day after, just in case the other was wrong. And it wasn't and I'm not. And I kind of thought I was.

It's the wondering if we'll have another child and the feeling like someone is missing from our family.

It's the grief I have in my heart for missing my mom just because it's October.

It's the worrying about money.

It's the feeling like I haven't measured up to anything after seeing an old high school friend accomplish big and exciting music-related things over the weekend via Facebook.

It's the missing my sister-in-law who is one of my best friends.

It's the feelings of all I'm missing out on with my sister who keeps me at such a distance because I'm just not allowed "in."

It's the not getting to see certain faces as often as I would like to.

It's the missing my Aunt and having someone in my family who not just gets me, but loves me and it actually FEELS like she loves me.

It's the realization of what it's cost me to get where I am today.

It's what I see in the mirror every day.

It's the internal tug of war I feel about working and missing Tommy and wanting to be at work at the same time.

It's the wishing Todd and I could go on vacation and it's been pushed back yet again.

It's the thing I feel left out of and the feelings of always being left out of something.

It's the anxiety and build-up of emotions as Todd gets ready to head out to Michigan next week and my heart is full of so much hope and fear that I can hardly stand being in my own skin right now.

It's the feeling missed while trying to have conversations with others who kind of act like I'm speaking a different language. And maybe I am.

It's all the relationships in my life that I so long to look differently.

It's the feeling lonely.

It's the feeling discouraged and stomped all over.

It's the longing for more.

It's all the little things and not so little things that add up I guess.

I know I just need to let the tears come and cry them out. I guess I just worry that if I start crying about all of the little things, that I'll never stop.

My life isn't completely void of joy. There is so much I love and have to be grateful for and I am - I really am. Just last night I watched out the front window, my husband spinning Tommy outside in the yard while I was making pancakes for dinner. And I teared up at how blessed I am to have a front window and pancakes and a son and a husband and to hear laughter.

But for the past two weeks it's felt like tears are ready to leak from my eyes at any given moment and I keep holding them in, holding them back, keeping them inside. Because they are just little things.

Little things that have big tears that I am still resistant to cry.

On loss and life

I said goodbye today to my very special and dear friend Bethany. There has been much ambivalence about her leaving. I am excited about the adventure she is starting with her family in Michigan, and I feel sadness at losing someone who knows and loves me like she does.

It's felt like a loss because it is a loss. I know in my heart our friendship isn't going anywhere. But the distance will change it, and there has been much to grieve there. I've been grateful for the places she has allowed me to vocalize how I feel.

These last few days though, I've been reflecting on how much loss I've experienced in my lifetime.

The loss of a brother. The loss of having a "normal" family. The loss of my parent's marriage. The loss of memories that never got to be made because of the divorce. The loss of my mother to alcohol. The loss of my mother in death. The loss of my dreams of singing and "making it big" in the opera world. The loss of my boyfriend to a violent murder. The loss of much money and pride to a man who quite literally robbed me and was never to be found again. The loss of heartbreak and rejection by the man I thought was supposed to be my husband. The loss of a church. The loss of relationships.

Those things feel like the "highlights" so-to-speak.

Those losses felt big because they are big. Yet I never really entered in to those things and let myself feel what was going on. Partially because I didn't know how, and partially because I just didn't want to. I've lived my life just trying to survive my losses instead of entering in to them, feeling them and grieving. And I've dealt with loss by medicating with addictions and just checking out.

Maybe it's my age or the work I've put in to therapy and counseling, or maybe it's just the grace of God. But as I've navigated through this newest loss in life and saying goodbye to a woman who is probably one of the best friends I've ever had, I've chosen to really enter in. As hard as it's been, I've pushed through and allowed myself to cry the moments that needed tears. I've voiced the times when it's hurt. I've remained present in this loss. I've fought the urges to medicate or check out.

As a result, it's felt like a light bulb has gone off for me. All of the things that were ever lost for me - I didn't do this. I never allowed myself to enter in to loss and acknowledge everything I was feeling and just get in it. It makes sense why I am where I am today - I am just now, only in the last few years, allowing myself to feel all that was lost for me. I'm crying tears that I didn't cry when I was 14, and 17, and 21 and 24.

It feels both beautiful and redeeming for this loss to be the one that I first truly entered in to as it was happening. In doing so, it allowed me to love and be present for her in a way that she needed.

Before she left, Bethany gave me an old wreath that she thought I might be able to breathe some new life into.
After we said goodbye today, I went to Hobby Lobby and bought some felt and came home to do just that. Breathe some new life into an old wreath that my friend gave to me.
New life seems to be waiting on the other side of loss. How about that...

My heart's prayer

"A Matter of Heart" - by Beth Moore

I've arrived at a conclusion,
maybe on of life's rare finds
that there's not a lot worth salvaging
within this heart of mine.

It's ever ready to destruct
and lie above all things....
It tends to laugh when it should cry
and mourn when it should sing.

I've wasted countless hours begging,
"Fix this heart, Lord please!"
while it stomps its feet, demands its way
and floods with sin's disease.

At last, you're able to get through
and lay it on the line:
"You must give up that heart of yours
and trade it in for mine."

So I cry out with the psalmist,
create within me, Lord
A new heart crystal clear
that only Calvary could afford.

A heart which pounds the rhythm
of heaven's metronome
and issues forth a boundless love
and beats for You alone.

I want to love that which You love,
despising what you hate
and see myself as least of these
oh Lord, retaliate.

The efforts of the evil one
who seeks to make my plea
that of his own, "I'll make no move
til I've considered me."

Peel away my fingers,
finally make me understand
the power to love and please You
can't be found within a man.

So, my Lord, I bring this offering;
a stubborn heart of stone
And ask You, in its absence,
please exchange it for Your own.

I read this today in a Bible study that I'm going through on my own (Living Beyond Yourself - Exploring the Fruits of the Spirit by Beth Moore).

It hit me like a ton of bricks and I'm left pondering agape. I'm left looking at the places where evil's held me by the throat and I've allowed it to. And I'm also left with hope. That knowing Jesus and who He is, can enable me to respond and love others well - and at the end of the day, it is my hope in Him that transforms my heart and my life.

Peel my fingers away Lord. Exchange my heart for yours....

Seeking stillness

This entire week I've felt myself almost in survival mode just hoping that me and my body could make it until Friday. Quality sleep and real rest have yet to find me this week and I feel like I've been running on steam and coffee. I'm at the point where my hormones are so crazy that I'm starting to cry at things like country songs and sappy Facebook status updates. (Thank you PMS!)

Todd leaves tomorrow after work and will be gone for the weekend. He'll be hunting/helping on a ranch with his hunting buddy, and I'll be left to my own devices. I'm looking forward to some quiet time all for me.

I plan on doing important things like:

Making a wreath using felt rosettes a la Pinterest! (something like this)
Taking a bubble bath
Catching up on my Bible study
Take a walk at the hill
A nap or three
A trip to the playground with Tommy
Baking some pumpkin bread
Staying in my pajamas as long as I feel like it
(And laundry, and things on my organizing list, and cleaning up the guest room - but only if I've had a bubble bath and a nap first. Because I have priorities!)

Saturday I will hug my friend B and say goodbye and cry some more tears before she flies away to her new home in Michigan. Oh I hate goodbyes - even if you know you'll see the other person again. I still hate them.

But even with the goodbye, I'm looking forward to some much needed ME time. I need quiet and space. I need some room to breathe, room to grieve some loss, and room to create. I'm looking forward to some stillness and counting down the hours before the rest I've been longing for, finally finds me.

Anticipating Autumn

The only problem with it being autumn right now is that it doesn't feel like autumn. It still feels like summer here. I've found myself sipping pumpkin latte's while day dreaming about the beauty I've created on my Beautiful Autumn board on Pinterest. I wish autumn could look like that here! Fall has my most favorite color palate of all I think. Gold, copper, turquoise, plum, olive, scarlet, chocolate brown....

There is plenty to look forward to this season though even if our weather doesn't always reflect the change to this season. I love this time of year. Activities and plans seem to ramp up and I love the flurry of fun things to do.

This fall, I'm looking forward to:

Todd's birthday. (Next Friday!)

Hunting season - which opens this weekend. And well, Todd's excited about that. I just share in his excitement with him.

Doing some shopping in Fredricksburg.

My sister's play at school.

Todd will be gone for an entire week in October. I'm not necessarily looking forward to his absence, but I am excited about where he's going and being able to look forward to all of it with great anticipation.

Our annual family trip to the pumpkin patch in Boerne. I just hope it's still there and they actually have pumpkins considering the awful drought this year.

A visit from Tiffany. Or "Tippy" as Tommy calls her.

All things pumpkin: Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin spice coffee creamer. Pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkins around my house.

Shopping for some new fall clothes. Hopefully I can snag a few scarves and fun tops. And khaki pants. I NEED khaki pants.

Throwing our second annual pumpkin carving party this year. Hopefully we have a good turn out and make bunches of pretty pumpkins!

Halloween costumes - but I need to find a costume event in order for there to even be a point in dressing up. I have a fun idea for Todd and I, but I'm still deciding what to do for Tommy.

Open windows to let cool air in the house.

Needing a sweater.

November sunrises. They seem to be the prettiest.

Thanksgiving.

What are you looking forward to most about autumn?

Put the shovel down

From time to time, I've written about my weight struggles here. It's been part of my life and who I am. It's been my choice to write what I have about it here and I have been careful about what I have shared as this isn't the safest of venues to write about such a thing.

But if I were to be completely honest with myself, I would say that 9 times out of 10, writing about it here is in efforts to save face. I have grasped for my dignity here so that others, family, friends, complete strangers, YOU - would all know that I am aware of my weight issue and I'm desperately trying to do something about it. I thought that maybe if I didn't write about it, people would think I had given up, deem me a failure and write me off.

I have been spinning in this world where I am constantly worrying about what others perceptions of me are. It influences how much I eat in front of you, what I wear, and even if I decide not to attend some kind of social gathering because it's been a bad day and it's easier to hide than show up feeling like a whale. The voices I hear in my head that are critical and judgemental have faces. And there are many, many faces of people who have wounded me here over the years.

For almost five years I have been trying to get to the bottom of why I am the way that I am with food. I've been desperate for healing and have cried out to God to just cure me of what feels like a disease. I've tried diets and counseling and programs and I've kind of exhausted myself to overcome the struggle I have with food and my weight. I would even dare to say that it's been a central focus because I've felt like it's needed to be. Even on the days where I've felt defeated and lived that way, my body and my figure and food are just at the forefront of my mind.

Five years later, it is absolutely evident that this runs incredibly deep for me. I have discovered, that my journey with food and my weight and addiction just looks different than I ever even thought that it would. There is a reason that the things I've tried haven't "worked" so-to-speak.

Along the way, I've experienced much healing and change within myself. But because it has never manifested in the weight loss I've hoped for, I've felt like a failure and that I need to work harder at it. And I've taken on the belief that everyone - EVERYONE - around me thinks that I'm also a failure and that they too think I should work harder.

I've not only been enslaved to food, but I've been enslaved to trying to heal myself from it somehow. I would dare say that I've even made it an idol of sorts. Because I am constantly thinking and dwelling on it. ALL. THE. TIME.

I can't tell you how often I have begged and pleaded with God to help me with this. To show up, to heal me, to give me self-control or discipline. Sunday morning was another one of those times where I came boldly to the throne of grace telling Him that He's left me stuck here and maybe it's because I'm just not spiritual enough that He's stricken me with this awful thing that I just can't be rid of. I haven't known where to put Him or His apparent "sufficient grace."

The words "put the shovel down" came from a very dear friend who knows my heart well. She recognized where I have been digging and furiously working here and asked me what it might look like to put the shovel down and rest.

Initially, the thought of resting here sounds like giving up and throwing in the towel. And I first went to the place of "Well, what will everyone think if I don't keep digging here like I have been? What will they say or do or think?"

But the same day that I had another yell-fest at God, was also a day where He spoke to my heart in some tender ways and left me dumbfounded because I had kind of missed something that I had never really seen before.

All this time I've been working and digging and trying to find healing for myself, my eyes have been on me, my body and what I am doing in all of this. And I've felt left by Him here, not because He hasn't been here, but because I haven't even tried to see Him. And it wasn't that I wasn't spiritual enough, but I had put all of this - the work, the therapy, the processing, the worrying about how others see me - all of it has been above Him or His thoughts about me.

Writing all of that out sounds kind of churchy, and I don't want to sound that way at all. It almost even feels elementary. I can almost hear the condemnation of churchy people who I know in their desire to want to try to say something and help, have even left comments here before of what they thought I needed to do or what books I needed to read - or just give it to God and focus on Him!

*sigh*

So, I realize that what I've written about placing what I'm doing and how others see me above God sounds a little bit like what others have told me to do all along and wa-lah! - there's my cure. And it is that, and it's more than that. It's this relationship I have with God where we've been in this life-long tug of war with one another. And the closer I have allowed myself to get to Him, the less I want to pull back and I want to just run to Him instead. Those feelings however, are new and very recent. I can't say I've ever desired God in the ways I have found myself longing for Him until now.

1 Samuel 16:7b - For the LORD does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

God sees my heart in this while others only see my outward body. And it is no longer true that my body is an outward reflection of all of these undealt with pains that need healing and processing. I will always need healing and need to process through hard things, yes. But the condition of my body doesn't necessarily mean that my heart is the same way anymore. I think it used to, but it doesn't now. I think that is what has made all of this so frustrating. I feel so different and new on the inside of me and the outside is the same because breaking habits and really changing with food itself is HARD and taking more time than I ever thought it would. And in all of this, I've completely disregarded what it is that God says about my heart because I'm more concerned with how others SEE me.

I guess what I am trying to say in all of this, is that I'm done trying to heal myself. I am done trying to find all of the answers and figure it all out, because I can't. I am done having my body and food as the focus of my every day. I am done trying to keep up with the thoughts running through my head about what others think of me. I am done exhausting myself because I'm worried I'll be a failure if I don't quit working. I am done digging.

It's time to put the shovel down and rest.

I'm not exactly sure what all that entails yet, but I do know, that for now, or for a while, or maybe even forever, I won't be writing about it here. There is more to me and my life and my heart than the weight I am or I'm not. I do know that I'm probably going to turn things down a notch in therapy department. I have plenty of things to sit with and I think I need to breathe for a little while. I have plenty of tools in my belt to know what I need to do. I'm more aware than ever of every bite of food I put in my mouth and why I do it. I am equipped for success. I've put in the work.

Now, it's time to rest a bit.

And maybe just spend time with the One who I thought had left me to figure this out by myself.