Amazing

Someone told me recently that I'm pretty amazing. It was a nice compliment and one I really appreciated. But I had to caveat my reply by saying it's taken me a long time to get here.

I would never wish my struggles or pain or trauma or life experiences on anyone. I should also say that I haven't experienced a lot of the pains of life that others I know have. But my experiences are my experiences and I don't believe in comparing. God allowed me to my trials and took me through them, and I am SO thankful, but they still hurt.

Those who know me well know I've struggled with perfectionism and self hatred and self destruction. Those who have walked with me for a time know how hard it's been for me to focus on pleasing God instead of pleasing others. Those who've been in my life have watched me as I've fought to be honest with myself and others about what's really going on. They've seen me scream and cry and withdraw and fight. They've seen me struggle and stumble and grow.

I am where I am because of a ton of God's marvelous grace that I didn't deserve. I'm here because God saw fit to preserve my life even when I didn't see a purpose for it. I'm here because a lot of people fought for me by going to their knees. I'm here because of a lot of people who loved me when I was very unlovable.

Yes, I've had to put in some work of my own in this life, too. I've had to be accountable and go to therapy and practice self-discipline and confront sin and ask for help. But all I've done and the person I am really aren't what I'd call amazing. God's the amazing one and He gets ALL the glory! 

Wasted Time

I've caught myself "wasting time" a few nights lately. I've been sitting scrolling through social media, or researching stupid stuff, or just...sitting. And I've started to judge myself. But then the Spirit prompted me to have a little self-compassion. I've been living life at a breakneck speed. I've been busy, busy, busy, and often have not had time to even cross off the things on my daily to-do list. It's a rare occasion that I actually have time to spare.

And when I have time to spare, it makes sense that I don't know what to do with it. It makes sense that I am tired, that I just want to veg. And some nights that's all I seem to be able to do.

So I've been letting myself sit. I've been letting myself off the hook of having to be productive before bed. I've been heading for snack time earlier and lingering over the newspaper a little longer. Or I've been telling myself it's okay if I just want to go to sleep early. 

There is a time for productivity and work, but sometimes I need a break. Sometimes I need "wasted time" to remind me to give thanks for work. Sometimes I need wasted time to remind me how good productivity feels. Sometimes I need wasted time to signal that I need more rest.

So I guess what I'm saying is that "wasted time" really isn't wasted. It's a teacher, and one I'm learning from, maybe not forever, but at this time in life, and probably again in the future.

Healthy Looks Different on Everyone

I'm probably the healthiest I've been in years. 

That might seem like a contradictory statement given how sick I've been lately, my dystonia, and the "healthy" habits I no longer practice. I've gained weight, decreased my HIIT exercise, watched my cholesterol go up, struggled with sleep, and even given up some of my tidiness. All things I'd used to say were unhealthy. But my definition of healthy has changed. Right now for me, healthy for me means being in a good place mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and relationally. Yes, my health includes the physical part, but that's probably the least important at this point. As Rachael Hartley puts it so well, "If doing something makes you feel bad mentally, then it's not actually health, no matter how 'good' it is physically." And at this point, I want holistic health as much as anything.

So what does healthy look like for me these days? 

It looks like hiking and getting in steps instead of always trying to get more fit and toned. It looks like chilling out instead of vigorously cleaning the house. It looks like normal eating instead of meal planned or even intuitive eating, where sometimes I eat too much and sometimes I eat too little and it's okay. It looks like accepting whatever weight comes to me as I live my life. It looks like forming deeper connections with the people around me, even when it means disrupting my schedule. It looks like doing meaningful work, even if it taxes and tires me. It looks like letting God redefine my priorities. 

I've changed my definition of healthy.

So next time you go to judge healthy for yourself or someone else based on outward appearance and external facts and figures, I challenge you to look deeper. Are you mentally healthy? Are you happy? Are you doing things that matter to you? And if not, then are you really healthy?

Look at me, and you might not say I'm the healthiest I've been, but you may not know where I've come from. And God is still growing me. 

Healthy looks different on everyone. 

Gathering Around the Table

Yesterday was my first Thanksgiving dinner at home in 11 years (if I calculated right). Yes, I've been back in  Arizona two years, but the first year, we went to a friend's house for dinner. Last year, I went to Wisconsin and ate with my brother. This year, I was home.

We talked a lot as a family about what we wanted to do for the holiday. When I lived on my own, my tradition was to serve at Salvation Army on Thanksgiving, and eat dinner the day afterward. But that was my tradition, not my family's. Making plans was a joint effort, not just mine. This year, after we discussed several different ideas, we decided we wanted to host friends who might not otherwise have places to go. So we invited over nine people, and ended up with seven guests. (Yes, I know that might not seem like a lot of people to us, but for a family of three, two of us who were introverts, it was a lot.) We ended up with a total of 10 around our table.

We really wanted to share not only our food, but our blessings as a family at this dinner. We wanted to share our home and our culture and own love. To that extent, I made these thanksgiving jars for our guests:

We'd started a gratitude practice in our home earlier this year, and I thought it would be neat to share it with others. It was. As each person shared their thanks, my heart swelled with gratitude to the God who has blessed us with all this.

Thanksgiving was also about sharing life and life stories. I knew the stories of several friends around the table, but not all. It was interesting to to listen to individual ones tell more of their tales and to hear the thread of God's grace woven throughout. I also had a chance to share about the healing work God has been doing in my life over the past few years.

Some of our guests had to leave early. Most didn't stay long. Only a few could stay to help clean up, but that wasn't really an issue. Thanksgiving was good, and I hope people went away feeling deeply satisfied.

In the end, our Thanksgiving was about more than food (and I think it always should be. It was about filling hearts more than bellies. It was about gathering to share an experience. It was about taking our eyes off ourselves and placing them on the Creator. I was about giving thanks. I don't know if we'll host a dinner this big every year, but for this year, it was special. 

Thanks to all who came, and most of all, to the Creator of it all!

A Good Place

I encounter a lot of people who think I'm behind on life. They think that by 30, I should have a house, a husband, a settled job, and kids. And let's be honest, sometimes I think I should have those things, too. That makes me feel discontent. But when I really stop to consider all the factors of my life, I'm thankful for where I am.

I'm thankful that I don't have a house because I'm more free to move about and continue to consider where God wants me to be.

I'm thankful I'm not married yet because I've had time to figure out who I am in Christ and what kind of person God might use to further form me more into Christ's image.

I'm thankful for the job I have because it is stretching and growing me in ways the "perfect" job wouldn't.

I'm thankful I don't have kids because my childlessness gives me time and energy to love on other people's kids.

And I don't think it's too late for some of the things that I want to still come to fruition if they are God's will. I'm not giving up on my dreams of one day having a house, a husband, my full counseling license, and maybe some kids of my own. Rather I'm seeking the Lord and working towards those goals in my own ways. I'm trying not to give into societal expectations that I "should" be at a different place at the same time. As Jennifer Rollin so aptly puts it, "Life is not a race....Wherever you are in your journey is perfectly okay." 

There are lots of hard parts of life, but I want learn to be present and content. Because wherever I am is a good place for me if it's God's place for me.

Go in the Strength You Have.

Life is a lot sometimes. And it just seems to throw at us more than we can take. Sometimes the things that come are consequences of our own sin. Sometimes they are consequences of the sins of others. And sometimes, they're consequences of the sinful world we live in. And they're all hard.

It's easy to do what I deem sitting in a puddle and crying. Life is overwhelming and we just want to quit. But that's not necessarily a godly or beneficial response. The best thing to do is to put one foot in front of the other and do the best we can.

Sometimes the best you can looks like getting out of bed in the morning. Sometimes it looks like taking a shower, getting dress, eating. Sometimes it looks like confessing sin to others, to apologizing to those you've hurt, to making amends. Often, it looks like doing things other people don't understand and having to be okay with it.

Life is a journey and sometimes timing doesn't make sense. But as Dr. Colleen Reichmann says, "Just because you're taking longer than others doesn't mean that you've failed." Healing is hard. Healing takes time. Recovery requires effort, and sometimes all we have to give is all we have to give. We just have to do the next right thing.

As God said to Gideon, sometimes we have to "go in the strength [we] have" (Judges 6:14) and trust that it is enough. Not enough for yesterday. Not enough for tomorrow. Enough for today. Enough for right now.

Go in the strength you have. It's what you've got. It opens us up to what God's got. And it's easier for God to move an object in motion than it is to move one stuck in a mud puddle.

Hiking Is My Therapy.

Don't get me wrong. I believe in counseling, in the power of processing life with a paid professiona; in order to get back on track and move on in life. I've been to plenty of counseling in my own life and I am a counselor. But I've also found my own form of therapy: hiking.

Life's been heavy this year. I can't totally pin it on any one thing. Rather, this heaviness is a mixture of hard work, and tiredness, and sickness, and life events, and country events, and world events. Whew! The overwhelm I've felt is pretty immense. I can't ever quite seem to escape or process it all.

But then there's hiking. It's my new favorite form of self-care. Being outside is like a mental detox. I see the stillness of nature as I walk, and I become more still. I talk to people I care about and I'm reminded that I'm not the only one with struggles. I breath in. I breath out. I sweat. I get tired. And somehow, afterward, the world seems bigger and better and brighter.

There's legitimate science behind hiking being therapeutic. The physical activity causes crossing between the left- and right-brain, resulting in new connections and new learning. New insights can be found and events reconsidered. Pretty cool, right?

Is hiking the be-all, end-all therapy? No, but for me right now, it's working. And if/when I decide to go back for traditional counseling (because at some point I might want to get married, face trauma, or have burn-out), I'll still keep doing it, because I know it will accelerate my processing and growth.

So without further ado, a few pictures from recent hikes:

 Clark Spring

 Constellation Trails

 Mount Humphreys

Praise God for His beautiful creation and its therapeutic value!

What a Doctor's Visit Should Be

I went to the doctor recently for my yearly well check.

The nurse weighed me, but the doctor didn't comment about my weight (even though I've gained a bit since last year, a good thing for me!).

The doctor examined me, but didn't comment about my appearance.

The doctor asked me questions and didn't question my answers.

The doctor asked about my job. She asked me if I was happy. She encouraged me to do self-care. She didn't try to force medicine down my throat.

She gave me a hug.

The doctor treated me as a person, not a object. I felt like a human, not like a specimen.

This is how doctor visits should go!

Vulnerability is a Verb.

I've been thinking lately about feeling vulnerable, about how I use feeling vulnerable as an excuse. I use it as an excuse for not getting out and being social. Being social risks too much, I tell myself. I use vulnerability as an excuse for hiding my emotions, even from myself, because the depth of my emotions scares me. I use vulnerability as an excuse for not telling people how much I care about them because I don't want to risk loving and losing. But you know what? Without vulnerability, I'm hard, stoic, and cold. I'm inhuman and inanimate.

Vulnerability requires action, either on the part of others, or myself. And since I believe I'm responsible for my own feelings, I don't think anybody can actually make me feel vulnerable. That's a choice I have to make for myself. And I don't think I can feel vulnerable as much as I can be vulnerable.

Failing to admit my hurt and pain and rawness is part of my perfectionism. And it sucks. It keeps me scared and afraid and trapped. I don't want that. I want to connect and learn and love and grow. All those things require movement, choice, decision-vulnerability.

Vulnerability is a verb, folks. It doesn't happen in a vacuum, and it doesn't happen without some pain and agony. So here's to being more vulnerable, come what may....

Fix Your Heart.

I wrote earlier about times when the Spirit has convicted me to stop praying about something, to let go and let God. But the last time this happened, something else happened. I heard the still small voice say, "Pray for your heart." I was so convicted that my heart wasn't in the right place. I was praying for circumstances to change when what God really wanted to change was my heart.

So I changed the direction of my prayers. I prayed that I would be faithful and trustworthy in my actions. I prayed that I would rest in God's peace. I prayed that I would be sensitive to the Spirit's leading. I prayed that I would be brave and obedient. I prayed that I would be okay however the issue turned out. And my heart began to change.

I still don't have answers. And maybe that's the point. Prayer doesn't change God, because He is changeless. Prayer changes me. Prayer allows God to fix my heart.

When God Tells You to Stop Praying

It's happened to me twice now. I'm fervently praying about something, banging on heaven's door, and then suddenly it's like the Spirit says, "Stop." It happened when I went to Unshaken, and it just happened again. At Unshaken, I had a strong conviction to pray about a work issue, and at some point I just felt like God said, "It's taken care of." And in the current situation, I've felt unsettled and upset and overall confused for quite some time. But then I saw this quote from TobyMac on Instagram:

God was like, "It's taken care of." And when I tried to pray, the fervor was gone. It wasn't that I didn't care, bit that I just had a sense again that I didn't need to pray about it anymore.

Answers? Nope. I still don't have them. I don't know how things will work out. But in the silence, in the waiting, I have God's peace. I trust Him. He has heard my prayers and He'll answer for His glory and good in His timing. Praise Him.

Butterfly Run 2.0

I like running. Maybe I'll do a post some other time about all the reasons why, but this post will be about one particular time I liked running: The Butterfly Run this past weekend in Tempe.

The Butterfly Run is a partnership between Nationwide Children's Hospital and Big Lots. It is designed to bring awareness to pediatric behavioral health issues and raise money for research into the causes of and treatment of the same. This was my second time running the race (a recap of my first is here) and I will run it again if I can. I like running, but I'm also passionate about the mental health of children.

The course this year was once again at Kiwanis Park. We went around the opposite way around, however. I did make all the turns and got in the full race this time, unlike last year when I had to run around a little extra to get in the 5K.

One of my friends ran with me, and my best friend from Arkansas watched, so that made the race extra fun. I've been sick and haven't been running that much or that hard lately. I've also been focusing more on physical therapy for my dystonia and gaining muscle than I have been on speed training. But somehow, I made really good time and set a personal record on this course. I also got first place in my gender/age division (only six people, but still, I'm thankful). 

The weather Saturday was beautiful and I got to go to brunch and spend time with my best friend after the race. We ate at The Uprooted Kitchen, wandered the gardens surrounding it, and then went shopping at Marshall's. 

I like running for a lot of reasons, but this weekend, I particularly liked it for the ways it allowed me to connect with causes and people I care about. My heart was filled and I came back from my "mini-vacation" a happy girl. Thank you, Lord!

Saying No

Saying, "No," to things that disrupted my very structured way of life was never very hard for me. I liked the safety and control that saying, "No" gave me. I willingly turned down opportunities to get off the beaten path of life because the straight and narrow felt right (and I'm not talking morals here). But in this season of resettling, I've told myself that I need to start saying, "Yes" more. I need to start saying, "Yes," when people invite me to do things, even if it feels uncomfortable or the timing isn't "right." I need to start trying new things, things that I might not think I like. I need to be brave, take risks, sit with discomfort.

But in this season of saying, "Yes," I've realized that I still have to say, "No."  I have to say, "No" to extra work opportunities, even when they feel important. I have to say, "No," to service opportunities because they don't seem right for me.  I have to say, "No" to non-essential items on my to-do list, things that used to be important to me, like having a clean car, or trying to keep things "perfectly" organized. Sometimes I have to say, "No" to my preferred early bedtime or preparing and eating healthy food. I've certainly had to say, "No," to sitting at home on social media, which I enjoy, but really isn't that productive. Changing my, "No" to the unknown to a, "No" to the known feels unsafe and uncomfortable and scary. But it also feels right.

If life is about living, I need to to expect the unexpected, find joy in the journey, and give my scared yeses more and more often. It's kind of crazy that embracing life still means saying, "No," but hopefully those noes make room for the yeses that need to happen.