You Are Allowed

There are so many things we limit ourselves in--not just in our self-belief of what we can accomplish, but in what we are permitted. What I mean is, in this culture of productivity, success, and comparison; we often fail to let ourselves be human beings. As such we are capable of great failure as much as great success, monumental struggle as much as monumental accomplishment, seemingly-insurmountable barriers even when the person next to us may, in appearance or in reality, have more to deal with in their day to day.

For a very long time, I didn't allow myself care. That's what it was, at the crux of it. I wasn't allowed to seek help for my problems because they were strictly my fault. If only I could be better, more organized, more motivated; if I could stop selfishly engaging in "down time" I could change everything. I wasn't allowed to claim any issue because on the surface, I didn't deserve to. "I don't have as much going on as that person over there," I would tell myself constantly--"so I can't possibly deserve to ask for anything." 

Every failure was a moral failure. Every untidy room, takeout dinner, poorly-executed social interaction, missed workout, and "lazy" day was a sign of my badness, wrongness. And in this cycle I heaped abuse on my mind that only exacerbated those same issues. "What the hell is wrong with you? Other people keep their houses clean all the time, work out, eat healthy, are a fantastic friend/family member, and look great. Why can't you?" I beat myself to a pulp about them, and weirdly enough, it made my sadness/irritability/depression/every negative emotion worse and took away my motivation even more. Because if you're just a piece of junk who can't keep up--why try?

Here's the thing. Maybe other people do all of those things flawlessly, easily, and without complaint. Maybe. But their ability to do them and my inability, at times, to do them does not make either of us morally superior or inferior. I'll freely admit I didn't come to this conclusion on my own. It started with research on the enneagram, and feeling like my personality could be understood was a big step. After that, it was following a TikToker (@domesticblisters, also known as K.C. Davis, author of How to Keep House While Drowning). The interesting thing was--once I started to show myself compassion when I "couldn't hack it," I actually got a lot more done. 

That self compassion eventually paved the way to seek help for my mental health. I allowed myself to verbalize a need, to say that my shortcomings might be results of unknown barriers, and to reach out to someone who could help me. I didn't have it "as bad" as people with similar issues, so I always told myself I wasn't allowed to identify with their struggles. Don't lie to yourself like that, delaying your healing. You. Are. Allowed.

Learning to Human

For those of you who follow me on Facebook (pretty sure that's my entire 'audience' at this point), you know that I was recently diagnosed with Bipolar II and OCD. You also know that I enthusiastically began a treatment regimen, as BiP must be treated with a mood stabilizer. Since starting the medicine, I can't tell you how much better I feel overall. But with it comes a few quirks I didn't expect. When you've spent your whole life unregulated, you don't really know what "normal" is like. Your normal is skewed, in one way or another. Of course this has shown itself emotionally but it has also shown itself physically.

Emotionally-speaking, I have discovered the feeling of medium mad. I know that probably sounds weird, but there were definitely times I had essentially two levels in this: not mad, and completely furious/enraged/livid. While I did a lot of work to master how that looked on the outside, and was occasionally successful, I'm realizing more and more how much it had actually mastered me. Things would come out of my mouth or even in a text message I read over and over that weren't kind, weren't productive. But I felt justified. Even if I did realize it...it took a while. And my apologies weren't always heartfelt, because I was still too focused in my anger toward the other person. If I could keep my tempestuous emotions somewhat in check and do what needed to be done, I had no patience for people I perceived as not doing so.

The blustery wind leaves my sails a lot quicker these days. I also seem to have an increased capacity to feel ashamed of my actions, which is both good and bad. Used ineffectively, it could just stay in a place of unhealthy guilt/shame. But when I channel it into apologizing and changing my behavior, it can be a force for good. Today, for example, for about a ten minute period I lost all patience with my daughter Aurora (2.5 years old). I spoke harshly to her. I hurried her. I told her "STOP CRYING" (why that's problematic could be an entire other blog post). None of those things are part of my parenting philosophy/strategy, but I just lost it. In her hurt expression and in her tears I realized the complete ugliness coming out of me, and I was able to pretty quickly turn things around. I took her in my arms and told her Mamas have hard days, Mamas get angry too. But that none of that was an excuse for being mean to her (as best as you can put this situation in a 2 year old's terms). And then I told her I was sorry, hugged her, and let her portion out her own fingerpaints--even if she wasted a little, even if it felt excruciatingly slow to me. Because she's not in a hurry--and she shouldn't be. 

I used to say I saved all my patience for Aurora. I get now why I so easily sympathized with her inability (and all young children's inability) to regulate emotions. And honestly I'm gonna pat myself on the back for how rare it has been, even before treatment, that I would let her see I was frustrated with her. But that meant a lot more harsh words for pretty much everyone else in my life, a lot less understanding. Now that I'm more even, I'm having to recalibrate. I'm more aware of how I treat everyone, so my frustration is spilling out a little more equally. It doesn't help that I am not yet being treated for my OCD (that comes next), which can make it more likely that I am irritable/impatient/want things done a certain way. Here's the thing, though--these things are still my responsibility, and are not justification for how I treat anyone else. Even once treated, I've got to make the decision to be aware and make changes when I'm hurting others--especially this little girl whose definition of love will start with me. It's not a responsibility I can take lightly.

Physically speaking, I feel like I'm basically having to learn how to eat again. Food has always been a bigger deal to me than I realized. Whether because I was hypomanic, depressed, or just generally out of whack; I was almost always ravenous. I could rarely recognize fullness because I wasn't just going after food out of boredom or comfort (though those were factors), I truly felt hungry almost constantly. Now I'm having trouble gauging how much food to put on my plate or order. I get full so quickly. I have huge issues with wasting food, and I have had to make myself let it go a little as things readjust. Comfort eating isn't comfortable when you're too full for it, so that's one way to get rid of an unhealthy coping mechanism. And it's the combination of the physical fullness and the mental balance that has me able to enjoy 1-2 alcoholic drinks at a time instead of 3-4. So my self-medication is ending, and that's great! But what does that mean?

Medication is not enough to totally counteract the impacts of a neuro-divergent brain. It's helping my body and brain to stop certain compulsions...but what fills those gaps? I have to learn healthy coping mechanisms now. Sure, they were peppered in before--some exercise, a good talk session with a trusted friend, the occasional journal entry--but they weren't a daily habit. If I'm going to keep myself in a good place, I've got to start building a real foundation for how to cope with anger, sadness, stress, envy--every negative emotion. If it's not drinking, food, long impassioned rants...it's shopping, procrastination, dissociation. And meds aren't gonna fix all that for me. I'll have to actually hone discipline, measure my energy across the tasks I need to do, and do these things in a consistent way instead of short power bursts. It really is like learning to human all over again.

I was very excited to figure out that something really was wrong, and that I wasn't just a failure. I still am! But the work doesn't stop at diagnosis. It begins. 

Guess Who's Back...Back Again

To those of you who have read one of my trademark long Facebook statuses and cried "START A BLOG" either out of irritation or interest...this was once my blog. I abandoned it in 2018 because...the struggle is real. I've blogged on and off since I was a teenager, and have never quite been able to sustain it. But I'm kinda like the killer in a slasher movie. I just keep coming back. That sounds more ominous than I meant it, but really you have to admire the killers' tenacity.

In any case, I'm going to see about starting back up with the occasional post now and then. So if you are one of those people who asked me to write a blog out of interest and not some version of "please get this off my timeline," you are WELCOME.

That's all for now, keeping it brief. But in the words of the Terminator, "I'll be back."

Unfinished Stories

Today I bought a children's book entitled Are You Scared, Darth Vader? The title was so goofy (and Tom's interest in the Dark Side so intense) that I just had to pick it up and take a look. Each page of the book shows the author trying to frighten Darth Vader, who claims to have no fear. Werewolves, vampires, and witches don't do the trick. Near the end of the book, it's revealed that the monsters are actually children in disguise. Vader starts to get a bit uncomfortable. He refuses to engage with them, so the kids decide he's boring and leave. At the very end, it turns out he is scared of something--of the child reading the story, who has the power to close the book and trap him inside. Oh, sorry. Spoilers? I bought it because it made Tom and I both laugh and is exactly the kind of weird thing we want our Bean Sprout to enjoy. Then it turned out there was a little more to it than I thought.

Tonight, I was thinking about what I thought was a separate topic and realized that it wasn't so separate. School has been pretty intense over the past several weeks and I haven't been writing. As I sat down to write tonight, I reflected over all the times I began to write a story, a song, a blog, just anything--and abandoned the project. I used to think it happened because my writing just wasn't very good. I'd wrap myself in a creative fury and get excited, but in reading it back I would hate every word. Looking back, I don't think it was lack of skill after all. I think it was fear. There was fear that I couldn't voice the characters, fear that I couldn't make it to an ending, fear that I could make it to an ending and no one would find it worth reading, fear that I was putting something out there that just made people roll their eyes...So, to make sure none of those things happened, I just quit.

Like Darth Vader in this silly little book, I often pretend to be fearless. It's a point of pride to act like you're casting something away because you want to rather than because your own self-doubt has crippled you. Like him, what really scares me is the thought that I don't really have any say or any control in what happens next. Like him, I'm afraid that I'm just going to get trapped in a story I don't like. Also like him, kids have always scared me a little...but we will get to that on another day.

So here's the thing. In real life, your story isn't fully in your own hands, but how you choose to behave in it is. The kids wanted to close the book on him, making his fear reality, because of his own actions. One of my favorite movies says it like this:

And finally this question, the mystery of whose story it will be. Of who draws the curtain. Who is it that chooses our steps in the dance? Who drives us mad? Who lashes us with whips and crowns us with victory when we survive the impossible? Who is it that does all of these things? Who honors those we love with the very life we live? Who sends monsters to kill us and at the same time sings that we will never die? Who teaches us what's real and how to laugh at lies? Who decides why we live and what we'll die to defend? Who chains us? And who holds the key that can set us free?...It's YOU. You have all the weapons you need. Now fight! 

Fear is really about the need to control...which also is what led good ol' Anakin to join the Dark Side. We can't control what other people will do or what the future holds, but we can choose to take hold of those weapons we have and fight against fear. We can decide to develop our own character, even if we can't write the narrative. No matter where you are, who you are, or what you've done; if you are reading this now, your story is unfinished. Rather than some disappointing, daunting thing--recognize that truth for what it is. It's hope. It's the possibility of revolution, redemption, and joy. Pick up the pen again. Don't like the role you're playing? Make some edits. Write in the margins. You're strong and your story has worth. Never give up or let yourself be convinced it isn't worth trying.

This is the time again when some readers may wish to depart. We're about to get spiritual.

Remember how I said life isn't fully in your control? Well, I've found the best way to beat fear is to remember who really is in control--the Father. He knows what He is doing. That movie quote I love so much still applies--except when it says 'you hold the key'...it's only true to the extent that the key to my freedom lies in my decision to trust Jesus. The self-imposed chains appear when I'm trying to do everything without Him.

Because He loves us, He doesn't force us to follow Him. God doesn't hardwire people like robots who can only do the right thing. If it's forced, it isn't love. I have to make that move. No one else can make it for me. My 'power' comes into play the most in electing to relinquish control. It's also in being faithful. He doesn't tell us to throw up our hands and just stop trying. We don't just laze around saying "if God wants me to get out of poverty, He'll help me when the lottery" or "If I'm supposed to graduate college, He'll make it happen even if I don't study." The weapons I was talking about earlier aren't of our own construction, they're part of His design. We have to take an active part in our story. We have to work. Sometimes we have to straight up do battle. In the end, the difference is that we don't have to do it alone.

There are so many verses about His plans for our future. From the womb to the grave, the Lord wants to lead, shape, utilize, and bless us. And unlike the unseen kid in the Darth Vader story, He doesn't want to clap the book shut and trap us inside. He wants us to experience life--and life more abundantly (John 10:10).

The following verse, however, is the one that seems most to apply to the concept of an unfinished story and the anxiety it brings:

"...being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." - Philippians 1:6

The One Where I Learn to Shut Up

I have typed and deleted several complaining, passive-aggressive statuses (statii?) in the past week or so. Stress wears on us all sometimes. I think venting can be healthy (when it isn't constant and it is in the correct setting), but I think sometimes we create additional sadness, anger, and worry when we let anything and everything prompt us to be annoyed, irked, or generally disgruntled. 

The reason you haven't seen these multiple rants on my mind this week is that I've decided to really try to focus on the good things. Admittedly, I still have a couple of people that I talk through my Haylee-rage with (they know I'm not a natural Pollyanna), but as far as public displays of my less-than-productive opinions, I feel like I've learned to just shut up and let it go. Stepping up in front of everyone to say "THIS SUCKS," even if it's true, does nothing to make the world a better place. It might make you feel better for a moment- like having a few beers at the end of a hard day. But like winter for Westeros, brace yourselves...HANGOVER IS COMING.

We tend to poison our own surroundings with negativity when we consistently broadcast it. Then it comes back to us tenfold because it is in the very air we breathe. What flows out of us so easily tends to choke us when it comes back. I can rant and rave and complain and feel perfectly righteous about it, but every time I see it from someone else, the needless ugliness is completely glaring and offensive to me. Why would my own negativity be anything else? Yeah, I'm still working on getting that plank out of my eye.

I used to be a "you know what I hate?" person. I can't tell you how often I had this exact phrase come out of my mouth or flow through my typing fingers. I want to be a "you know what's amazing?" type of person. Ephesians 4:29 tells us just to do just that..."Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."

Can you honestly say that all the words coming out of your mouth (literally and figuratively) build people up or benefit them?  I can't. So today, and likely for many days to come, I'll continue to ask for help on taming that beast (hint: the beast is me).

"Set a guard over my mouth, Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips." (Psalm 141:3)

Little by Little

You might have noticed I didn't put out a blog entry last week. You might not have noticed, as alas; I am probably not the center of your life. In any case, last week a new wave of mourning crashed over me somewhat unexpectedly. On Sunday, I felt worn down and deflated without really understanding why. I had spent Saturday enjoying a rare date day with my husband. We had an amazing time together and I felt so full of love and joy. The next day, I felt like an old, wrung-out sponge. Normally I would have made up for my Saturday fun by grocery shopping, meal prepping, and doing a little bit of housework. I've actually come to love and find energy in that routine. Instead, I ordered some pre-prepped meals from a slightly overpriced local place that does such things and watched Doctor Who the entire day. I told myself a day of rest was just what I needed to be raring and ready to go come Monday.

But Monday came and went, the drained feeling never leaving. I scrambled (as lethargically as one can scramble) all week long. Normally an "on top if it" kind of person at work (who maybe a teensy bit judgmentally chides other people when they are being careless or missing deadlines), I couldn't keep up with anything. I made mistakes. I had no focus. I felt like every task with work, school, or home represented a metric ton of quicksand being dumped on my head. Come Thursday (Daddy's birthday), I was very emotional and even starting to feel physically ill, but still hadn't connected the dots. Unfocused and somewhat drowning, I spoke with a friend who had experienced a similar loss. She related that on important anniversaries like her dad's birth and death, she usually finds herself feeling "off" for the week- whether she is consciously considering the date or not. It occurred to me that the anxiety, sadness, anger, and general ineptitude might have been owing to that very phenomenon. I left work early that day, skipped class for the evening, and had dinner with my husband, mom, and sister to celebrate my dad just like we would have done if he were here: with good food, love, and Long Island Iced Teas. I continued to feel sick and exhausted Friday, Saturday, and part of Sunday- though I picked back up on my routine. On the following Monday (this week), I "snapped out of it." It was an almost instantaneous change.

A couple of days later I was reading in Exodus as part of the Bible in a year progression. As the Israelites are journeying into the desert following their delivery from Egypt, God promises essentially to clear the way for them. He says that He will drive out their enemies so that the Israelites can inhabit the land. Unlike some of the other situations Israel had encountered by then (rather rapid or even instantaneous granting of land and property), He promises to do so gradually: "But I will not drive them out in a single year, because the land would become desolate and the wild animals too numerous for you. Little by little I will drive them out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land." (Exodus 23:29-30)

Honestly, I have never been good at "little by little." I have lived my life in cycles of optimistic, tireless productivity followed by longer periods of exhausting depression and despair. This pattern is largely owing to my desire to conquer the whole world at once. Whether it's working multiple jobs at a time, trying to be "all things to all people," trying to be a health and fitness freak, trying to take too many new projects, trying to pay off debt more quickly than is realistic, or a combination of all of those things at once; I get impatient and I overdo it. I eventually slam into the walls of reality (hard). At best, I am back at square one. At worst, I lose not only the ground I've gained but regress several steps further back in whatever I was trying to accomplish. I disappoint myself and get questions like "wow, what happened?" (which, by the way, is not a great way to tell someone you are worried about them in any category...so there's a bonus PSA for you) As I have tried to be faithful to this year's goals- spiritually, domestically, academically, physically, mentally, and professionally- I honestly believe myself closer than I have ever been to striking a healthy balance. And yet when I'm doing my best is when I tend to lose sight and get cocky.

Last week represented a serious halt to my manic self-assuredness. I discovered that, as in everything, I had rushed ahead in my grief to declare myself in control. I assumed it couldn't overcome me unless I let it...and then it did. I was reminded that balance is a result of a conscious effort to arrange your life around a fulcrum. For me, the fulcrum is Jesus. He knows much better than I do exactly how much of the land I am ready to inhabit. He knows that sometimes it isn't the miracle of an evening, but of an era. Instead of letting me run out into the future, grabbing everything I can and spinning around like Julie Andrews on uppers (great analogy, right?), He knows I need to slow down and take the time to "increase" (grow). If I try to take the whole at once, "wild animals" (obstacles, doubts, exhaustion, pride, anxiety, lack of preparation) will overtake the ground I'm trying to claim and I'll lose it all. Whether it is in learning to understand grief or pressing on toward a [million] goal[s], I have to remember that sometimes things are meant to be gradual. 

Little by little, God is teaching me.

"Sloppy Wet Kiss" from Guest Blogger Elise Peek

Our parents were the king and queen of sloppy wet kisses. They kissed in front of us kids all the time, sometimes just to embarrass us- which is typical for parents of young children. But unlike the typical parents, ours had the sloppiest, wettest kisses. They were so loud you could hear them from the next room. They definitely had the loudest, sloppiest kisses of anyone we knew, but this was one of the many ways we knew how much they loved each other.

My sister Haylee recently reintroduced me to John Mark McMillan’s music. If you don’t know who that is, you may know him by the song he wrote “How He Loves.” You know, the one with that strange line “Heaven meets Earth like a sloppy wet kiss." Some artists that have recorded the song have even gone on to change that line. I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing, but I just listened to the original version of this song from the album The Song Inside the Sounds of Breaking Down. Most of the song is the same version I’ve heard a hundred times, but the last minute and 30 seconds hit me like a ton of bricks. It was so raw and emotional, I knew there was more behind this song. Through some research I found out that this song was written at a time of grief, bitterness, resentment, and anger. John Mark McMillan had lost his really close friend Stephen in a car accident. He was so frustrated and angry with God when he wrote this, but that’s exactly where God met him. God spoke to him despite his anger and resentment because that’s “how He loves us."

I have definitely dealt with my share of anger and resentment through my life. Losing Daddy to a sudden heart attack was no exception. The grief of losing someone close to you is one of the hardest things someone will walk through. It’s also one of the easiest places to become angry, resentful, or bitter. The loss of Daddy has been a hard road to walk down. I’ve had moments of being angry. Angry that Daddy didn’t go to the doctor more often. Angry at God for not performing a miracle. But as I listened to these few lines in this song, something resonated inside of me. 

I thought about You

The day that Stephen died

And you met me between my breaking

I know that I still love you God

Despite the agony 

See people they want to tell me you’re cruel

But if Stephen could sing

He’d say it’s not true

Cause you’re good

I will forever hear this song and see sloppy wet kisses differently. I envision a parent showering a young rambunctious child with kisses as they are pushing away wanting to run off and play. God is a father that showers us with kisses even when we fight it and push Him away. He does not change, even when we do. He loves us because of and despite who we are. 

https://youtu.be/U0luHiWwi08

https://youtu.be/M6wl3uqfbYQ