The Courage Factory

This week I will be brave. 

I will be my own courage factory - producing tenacity and heart for every situation. 

I will not be afraid. My life is perpetually right-brained - between Royal Stage, my writing jobs and just....my own head....there are a lot of critics. Not everyone is going to like or appreciate the masterpiece God is creating for me, and I don't have to invite them to the gallery viewing. 

This week I will be strong. I will fight the compulsions, voices, panic attacks and depressions - I will not be ashamed to ask for help, and I will trust my friends, husband and GOD to help me through. 

I will not apologize for being broken, because someday every crease and crack that will remain once I'm made whole again will stand as a testimony to the One who put me back together again. 

I won't let darkness win. It's already robbed me of so much in life. I've missed childhood, 64 days of the 12th grade, college experiences, birthday parties, dance opportunities, meaningful friendships, days with my children - it was all stolen away - it's not allowed to have another single moment of my life. 

I will let myself be numb, angry, frightened, sad....but only as it serves to pave the road toward peace and healing. 

I'll be my own courage factory this week - I have to be. Because no one else can get me where I need to be - except me. 

Hanging Out Human

Sometimes I like to picture Jesus' "regular" life - the off duty times. He was fully man, right? I don't think we give the Savior of the world enough credit for the time He put into being a human being. 

He likely had inside jokes galore with the apostles, and I'm sure plenty of disciples came to him with girl problems and friendship struggles - and He let them. 

Did Jesus ever have the stomach flu? What was his favorite food? You know he had a belching contest with the apostles late at night, where everything seemed hilarious because of that well-experienced lack of sleep from traveling. 

Jesus was fully human. 

But He is also fully God. 

He was brutally killed for all generations, which is certainly no laughing matter. 

He caught the tears of women and the snot-filled kisses of little children. 

God came down and showed He fully understood and experienced humanness. 

And loved us anyhow. 

When I'm feeling weak or sad, I love to remember that my awesome Father, protector and guide also gave a Son.....a guy my age. And just how He likely had 2am conversations with Peter or Matthew about whatever was on their hearts, I love to have moments where I just talk to God about the silly things. And thank Him. 

He already knows the needs in my life - the big stuff - and I used to think I needed to bring them all up every time I prayed. But now, I talk to God about the little things first.....because He took the time to come be human, and also because it is a statement of trust knowing He knows my heart and i don't  have to worry or be afraid. 

I talk to Him about how I am loving the cooler autumn nights where I sneak out to the couch at 3am and open the front door to sleep against the comforting breeze. 

I remind Him how I just love my kids, with their smart minds and silly demeanors - I really, truly do have amazing, loving, Christ-filled children. 

I tell Him about the people who encourage me, thanking Him for sending them into my life. I share dreams about how going to the circus completely deluded me into dreaming of new potential for Royal Stage if we ever have a healthier budget. 

We talk about dance, poetry, naps, traffic and Starbucks cheese danishes. 

I'm giving Him my entire heart now - not just the pure parts, or my Santa-esque list of requests for gifts from above. 

I just want to talk to God sometimes like He's hanging out with me at home, watching sitcom reruns and eating Oreos. 

And I hope it's okay to do that. 

Held As I Fall Down Far

This morning = my favorite weather - cool and hazy. It made this Bay Area girl very comfy. As I was driving to drop the kids off, the sun was this gorgeous orange, dimmed but illuminated by the clouds. 

**Clearly I'm a writer, not a photographer.**

I've been quite dimmed this week too, as I work through one of the most intense episodes I've ever had. But this morning as I was driving, I could feel the prayers that have been said on my behalf. Despite my raging mind and exhausted body, the morning felt fresh and the light gentle. 

I was reminded by God how He is light. I was able to stare directly into the dimmed sunshine, and thought about how God's light is not painful or blinding. Through Christ we are able to stare directly at it and reach its comforting  warmth as it floods the dark, twisted knots of pain within me that He so powerfully unravels. 

God's light doesn't burn. 

God's light doesn't blind us. 

God's light doesn't hurt. 

Since I've started opening up more, especially since my book came out, people with healthy brains ask me with some regularity what BPD, OCD and depression/anxiety feel like. 

Oh, how i wish I could eloquently explain it instead of always saying the same tired phrases of "I want to quit," "it's really hard," and "I'm afraid." 

Here is what the battlefield looks like on a typical day: 

* Wake up feeling exhausted. Brain has been running all night. 

* See reflection and see disfigurement. My face is ugly and looks different & startling from everyone else's. I'm the Beast. 

* Receive daily greeting from the voice that rents the room in the back of my mind. It will speak to me all day. It tells me I am worthless. I'm evil. God can never love me. People don't love me. It lies and it lies until I relent and accept it as truth and vow to try harder to fight it tomorrow. 

* Feel detached from everyone, even in the epicenter of a social circle. 

* Fear people or things disappearing. People leaving, things changing, abandonment. 

* Headaches, muscle aches, trembling hands, chest tightness, tics, panic attacks, thoughts of suicide. A movie playing a plan out over and over again - continuous loop. And because I have a difficult history, it plays real memories too, really cranking up the volume on those. 

*The urge to cut myself, burn myself, hurt myself is as strong as a stubborn itch in the center of the back. I can't quite reach it and satisfy the desire to hurt physically for mental release - but it's so dang distracting that any rational thought or behavior squeezes into the very tight space left to reside. 

* Moments of dissociation - I know my name and what year it is. I can answer any question really, but I've floated temporarily away to step away from the mental pain. I'm fully present, but also fully watching from a safer place. Within moments I am back. 

* the assumption that every word or look you encounter means that individuals hate you, want you harmed, or just trying to back out and leave your mess quietly. 

* I have to ask the same questions a lot, and read the same paragraphs a lot because I can't fully listen over the noise. 

Try to have a meaningful conversation with an angry voice screaming in your face. 

Try pulling your body out of bed after fighting all night long because it's your brain that works to keep you breathing while you sleep - but that also means since it's awake, the battle is still on. (Not scientific, but it's how it feels). 

Fear that because of someone's actions, everyone else is the same. Your mind has zero ability to separate and trust. 

Wounds run deeper. Black, white, there is no gray. 

Mental illness sucks. I want to jump out of my skin, it feels so unsafe. 

And there's no cure. Medication takes the edge off, though. And people's constant, consistent love and support do break through sometimes. 

Best of all, we have our beautiful, wonderful Jesus. 

He touched and healed men who cut themselves with rocks. 

He is close to the brokenhearted and crushed in spirit. 

He healed a person who often fell into both fire and water - burning and drowning through life. 

He passes through the waters. He walks through the fires. If He chooses not to heal us, then He comes with us. 

He captures every thought and does not let a single one hurt us beyond what we can bear. 

I feel far over my limit of what I can handle. I have no words to explain what it's truly like. 

But even in the darkest of times, a small burst of light remains, reminding me that while my pain is great, my God is greater. 

It Will Be a Homework Morning

I went to bible study tonight, which out Frank on homework duty. Sam had to write sentences using this week's spelling words. He apparently told Frank he'd like to use the word "lightbulb" in every sentence - so Frank let him. 

We will be redoing this in the morning - and where the heck are all our pencils? It should be noted Sam copied the week's homework list onto a paper, using nest penmanship "just because", and then went on to complete this "I'm too smart for this shizz" homework assignment which is a complete mess....but also, admittedly, made me laugh. 

1. The lightbulb is hot. 

2. (Attempt 1) The lightbulb do not touchey. 

2. (Attempt 2) Do not touch the lightbulb. 

3. You got the lightbulb.

4. You shot the lightbulb.

5. Do not touch the top of the lightbulb.

6. Do not mop the lightbulb.

7. Do not pop the lightbulb.

8. Stop switching the lightbulb. 

Really? Because I totally mop my lightbulbs all the time.

Hashtag. Homework fail. 

Craving Simple Faith

I woke up at 4am and cleaned the house, which has been absolutely trashed post-cruise/camping trips. Correction: I finally gave up on attempting to sleep and got out of bed at 4am to bring some order and sense back to life. 

I'm craving a simpler faith in both God and people than what I currently possess. I want to read a paper bible with thin, crisp pages - notes written in the margins and no fear of its battery dying. 

I want a ministry where people speak face to face, and whenever someone makes a mistake, that error doesn't find an audience for eternity on the Internet. 

I want my mornings back with no TV, a real breakfast for my kids on the table and the absence of a mad rush out the door. 

I want to read the Word with Sam. To do his CBS study together, delete all the game apps off my phone and to sit at the feet of Jesus together. 

I want to remind Charlotte more that she's safe, loved and doesn't need to cling for security. I love our prayer and song time together and want to reiterate through slower and more purposeful time how much God loves her. 

Oh, Lord, there's so much I want - and all of those "wants" seem to involve purging and gaining less. True prayer of a middle class American with the world at her feet and decent security in her bank account, right? 

I desire simplicity so strongly. I don't want to make it a goal or a Fall agenda item, because that somehow ruins it like a coveted gift revealed to be the wrong size or color.

 It needs to just happen. 

Grateful for the Sunset of Summer

I jumped into a lake today and wasn't afraid. It sounds stupid, but in my heart it's important. When I was younger I was thrown in a lake to "learn how to swim" by a caregiver who was too impatient to deal with a fearful child. I don't remember how close I came to actually drowning before it became clear to said individual that I wasnt an animal who would magically discover its instinctual swimming ability through immersion. 

I'm sure it was hardly dangerous. But it instantly became another fear related to summer - I've been terrified of deep non-swimming pool water ever since. I won't swim in lakes or the ocean. 

I usually tell people it's because of all the fish poop and/or whale sperm....because seriously - gross. But it's mostly because I'm deathly afraid of not being able to touch the bottom. 

Summer is, by all logical terms, over. But since there are still technically a few good weeks left, we jumped right back into travel mode the day after our cruise and went camping with our church family. 

Which is where I was dared to take a flying leap off a boat dock. 

I told someone about it, and their response was, "What are you, 12?" 

That stung, because I do definitely have a lot of "growing up" to do in terms of learning who I am, who God gives me permission to be, etc. And I need these little victories to keep moving forward and away from the big hurts. 

It was a good dare to accept. It checked the final summer-related fear off my list. 

✅ feel grass against my skin without panic

✅ stare down a dragonfly *shudder*

✅ enjoy my birthday 

✅ be happy on 4th of July 

✅ sleep with the window open 

✅ swim where I can't touch the bottom 

These are all really stupid goals, but they are all precious to me because it means that if only for a little while, I am winning some of these battles. I've faced down fear this summer, even if it still sticks around - it's beginning to grow a little afraid of me. 

I have a long way to go, but little by little I think I'm getting there. 

Fear does not have to rule me. It's gotten too much of my life already and it does not deserve another single day. 

When we were on the cruise earlier this week, a lady in a crowd we passed by sighed happily and exclaimed, "Life is awesome!" 

She's right. It is. It's terrifying and difficult and hard to navigate through after bad things happen. But we can all be strong and all find those little moments and victories that make it awesome. 

Here's to the final "official" days of summer - I'm not exactly  winning, but I don't think I'm going to lose just yet either. 

Happy Fallmost!

It's fall (almost)! Happy Fall....most. 

Fallmost is my own personal continuous holiday between Labor Day and September 23. It's a time where I can breathe a little more as summer eases off my insecurities, and I can look forward to a season where life is a little easier. 

Fall brings regular routines against the laxadaisy life of summer that sends me on a mental roller coaster. Fall brings cooler weather against the dry, mean heat of Sacramento afternoons. Fall calms my brain, my kids and the dance studio's a/c bill. 

I celebrate Fallmost in a variety of ways - lighting autumny candles and making crock pot soup, deluding myself into thinking it's NOT 100 degrees outside still. I start to dream up Halloween costumes Sam and Charlotte won't agree to, wander through the fall decorations at Hobby Lobby, and plan Apple Hill trips. 

Fall is my happy place. 

However, something changed this year. Fallmost took me by surprise. Instead of summer being my arch nemesis, it became my....for the sake of using as many ridiculous words in this post as possible.....my frienemy. This was a big step for summer and I. 

For the first time, I enjoyed summer nights - the way Sacramento is absolutely lovely after dusk for frozen yogurt, the drive-in and late night chats on a porch swing. 

This was the summer I found myself surrounded by consistent, godly girlfriends who notice when I'm missing and are happy to keep me laughing. 

Summer blessed me with a fighting (although sometimes faltering) spirit that slowly taught me God does not hold me responsible for all the broken people in the world. 

We swam this summer, played board games this summer, made mentos & soda rockets this summer. I truly went to the state fair for the first time and learned how to needle felt a gnome. I found new, unexpected ways to connect with my husband and appreciated my creative mind that came up with some very awesome bedtime stories my children now request over Goodnight Moon. 

This summer, I learned to say positive things about myself. I still may be my own worst enemy, but the war is slowly dying down. 

So, Happy Fallmost. In the midst of my dreaded summer, I found hope.