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Who Am I? (A prayer)

Lord Jesus,

Please help me to know how to live.
Please show me the way.
Why does everything seem so upside down??
So scary?

I don’t want easy, God.
Ok.
Maybe I do.

Why does it all seem so confusing?
Is there something you want me to do?
Please make it clear.
Something to write?
Show me.
A cause to champion?
Well then, I want to do just that.

Put me in coach.
But do I have to get beat up?
Scars?
Battle wounds?
Does that have to be part of the game?

You know I am not strong.
You know I feel inadequate.
There are others out who will speak better.
Stick with it better.
Know what to say and when to say it better.

Is it women?
Black Lives Matter?
Immigrants?
LGBTQ?
Anxiety issues?

Hmmm...
The underdog.
The ones who don’t feel adequate.
The ones who live in shame of who they have been told they are.
Who tell themselves who they are.

What is my role?
Not just to tell my story.
Or is it just that?
Our story.
Your story, God.

The story of me... trying to find my place in this World.
Struggling …

For The Love of Shoes

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Shoes have taken over my house. Everyone who lives here has a shoe addiction. I'm not even joking. Shoes, shoes and more shoes. Everywhere I look. Everywhere where I go. Most of them are really cool. Our kids have good taste in shoes. It is just that... They are overtaking our house. And I bend down and pick them up. And then more appear. Honestly? I sometimes yell at the shoes. Treat them like they are my kids. And I am ticked at each and every one of them. They hang around my house in pairs. By every door. Next to the couches and chairs. Under the table. They never quite make it into the closet or the baskets. I thought I had strategically placed the one basket. Easy enough to throw the stinking (see what i did there?) shoes in. But no. They all just sit around my house. And I look at them. And I ask why. And I question my mothering skills. Why didn't I teach my kids to put their shoes away? And then... I turn and look. Wouldn't you know it. My Nikes are right there whe…

Why Write?

What is it about writing? About putting my thoughts down on paper. They are scattered, I know. I don't think/type in full sentences. Probably drives my English teaching friends nuts. But it is where I find freedom. A sort of rest for my soul... and my brain. The deep, dark thoughts come spilling out onto the page and there is relief.
I understand not everyone wants to read my word vomit, and I have to learn to be ok with that. People even make fun of the way I write. Ugh... it hurts. But again, I'm not for everyone. God knows my heart in all of this. He knows my wonderings and my ability to head into a la la land of sorts. And in my writings? Somehow, there is a sense of coming back to center much of the time. Haha... not that my life is centered. I've always been a little off kilter.  
January is always a rough month for me. Coming off the holidays.  All the food, the hustle and bustle and busyness of the season. Heading straight into a vast nothingness. A cold, icy, seem…

Rapture PTSD

#raptureanxiety.
There it is.
I have had it.
I think in some sort of odd way...
I still have it.
Not scared it is going to happen anymore.
Just scared of bringing up the feelings.
All that went along with the ridiculous rapture talk.
In the 4th grade when I first heard about it.
Watch a movie.
A Thief in the Night/A Distant Thunder.
Let me say it again...
4th grade.
Went along with my parents to a high school event.
New Years Eve.
Sat in the back and watched in horror.
What is this?
People disappearing in the middle of the night.
Planes crashing.
Cars wrecking.
People reeling.
And then...
The people who were left behind?
Running.
No food.
Fires and death.
And then?
They had to choose.
Get the mark of the beast or get their heads chopped off.
That's how it ended.
The star of the movie up on the platform ready to die.
The sound of the guillotine.
Lord help us all.
Ok.
Deep breath.
I just found the darn movie on youtube.
Watched some of it to make sure I was remembering right.
Oh... …

Prozac Detox Adventures

New day.
New thoughts.
New words.
Trying to do this every day.
Make myself write something.
My Prozac journey.
Coming off the darn stuff.
One week into it.
I've been on an antidepressant for three years now.
It has worked for me.
I went on the Prozac because at the time I couldn't stop crying.
Anxiety mixed with depression.
I was used to the anxiety.
But the crying???
I'm sure it had a whole lot to do with Dad's death.
There were other factors playing in.
Perfect storm.
I reluctantly took my first dose.
Within a couple of weeks I was functioning more like myself...
The tears had stopped.
I could go to the grocery store.
It was a welcome relief.
Since then, my anxiety and ocd has been up and down.
But, I will tell you what...
There have not been many tears.
Almost none.
Maybe a few.
But almost none.
I told my doctor last week that I am ready to feel again.
Ready to shed some tears...
On the dark days...
As well as the happy days.
One thing about my dad?
He wasn't af…

A Messy, Muddy Life

I had a dream.
Last night.
So real.
So memorable.
Need to write it down.
Some of the women from our church were hanging out.
Ready to take a hike in the woods.
It had just rained.
Inches and inches of rain.
A muddy mess.
I thought for sure we would cancel the hike.
Can you imagine walking in that?
But... as I looked in front of me.
My friends were taking off their shoes.
They were rolling up their pants.
Ready for the challenge.
Are you kidding me?
We're doing this?
We're really doing this?
Yep.
Let's go.
It's gonna get messy.
We are about to get dirty.
Real dirty.
There may be snakes and probably lots of bugs.
Mosquitos.
And I'm a magnet for mosquitos.
Dangit.
Ok.
Oh... and no men are with us.
Just us girls.
And there is a little laughter.
Some talk of grounding.
You know... going barefoot is good for you?
Well then.
Let's hike.
I woke up this morning and actually thought about going on a hike today.
It would be muddy.
The rain was heavy last night.
I could ta…

A Safe Place For Thoughts

Friday ~ November 3, 2017

I need to write.
In a safe place.
An area where I'm free to be myself and tell my thoughts.
My learnings.
My leanings.
Every day I'm growing.
Eyes are opening.
Breathing deeper.
Excited to explore.
Claudia told me this week that I am "courageous".
Fearful and timid seem more like it.
But, oh how I long to be what she said.
Podcast I was listening to yesterday said to make a list.
Three adjectives.
Words I want to be true of me in five years.
Hmmmm....
He said high achievers will make this list.
I decided to be a "high achiever".
 1.)  Joyful (full of joy).
 2.)  Healthy (stop seeing myself as a disease waiting to happen).
 3.)  Courageous (for real... excited about what this life has to offer).
I want to say "I'm not afraid anymore!"
I want to trust God with my life.
Not a naive look at life.
But a deep gut level belief that I am loved by God.
That we all are.
I went to the doctor a couple of days ago.
Told her I thin…