I never enjoyed team sports or even understood them. No desire to watch or learn so I find it funny when I am tweeting with Jen into the weird hours of the day and night about baseball, a sport I never played, watched or understand. Yet her passion and love for the game, for the TEAM, the players even if they are on the WRONG team, makes me want to cheer her on, cheer with her, send her crazy “outs” that look insane to anyone who doesn’t click to see the conversation and it’s totally fun.
I am the girl on the yoga mat seeing how bendy I can be. Reading with my leg up the wall while the other one is folded at my side for several chapters before I realize I should probably switch. I love being alone. I need it. It’s my soul time. My time to pray, meditate, sweat it out, think, detox the day away.
I love the idea of being a part of something, but I want to lurk in the shadows and not be on center stage. I experience community in far different ways, and that’s more than okay. Matthew 6:6 tells us “When you pray, go into your inner room, close your door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.”
I’m not trying to get bonus points or be better than the person who is leading a huge group. I simply like to keep things small, I like to share with the page and I enjoy that the page shares back. Maybe I won’t ever be on a TEAM that carries a roster or has a starting line, but I know that I am on God’s TEAM and He is on mine!
Why I write is definitely linked to my past. As many of you may know from hanging around through my ups and my intense downs I have been through a TON in my short life. Most of which was very traumatic. I suffer greatly from PTSD and a boat load of the side affects it comes with, like depression, severe anxiety, insomnia, suicidal thoughts, panic, and even self harm.
I have seen a dozen doctors/therapists/counsellors and I am on about a dozen different medications, all of which to help calm me down and hopefully help me to prevent the above symptoms, from getting worse than they are on a “normal” day.
However, along the broken-road I started to ask these very people who were set out to help me how they grew up, what their trauma’s are and I was shocked and felt more alone than ever when EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM told me that they have no experience with trauma but they are “trained to help trauma victims.”
One recommended after the loss of a baby that I go be like a “deer” and grieve in the woods for a few hours, literally shake it off and move on because that’s what animals are born to do. Just shake it off.
Unfortunately, I am not a deer, and unfortunately, I have been in a stopped vehicle while watching a gopher panic as it’s dead spouse lay in the middle of our highway, watching him run back and forth not quite sure what to do, trauma and sadness in the gophers eyes. Finally as he realized we weren’t going to hurt him he grabbed up the one he loved and pulled her crushed body off to the side of the road and into the woods. I am guessing he didn’t shake it off, he was too shaken up.
My heart broke for him as I sat there with a stream of tears remembering my own losses pouring down my cheeks.
I started to write. Not because I felt like what I had to say was of any importance, but because keeping it all in was literally killing me. My heart with an irraddic beat and requiring meds, my body shutting down, the blood stained razor adding another scar or two or three almost nightly. I needed to get the thoughts out of my head, whether they made sense or not.
Years later I call this a brain dump. Where I just open up a word document and let the words flow with no rhyme or reason, or I open a page in my journal and do the same. It’s unfortunate that most of my writings and ramblings are inspired or prompted by pain but it’s my hope and my prayer that in sharing my intimate thoughts, fears, frustration and deep love for Christ that someone who is sitting in a similar situation may find hope, or comfort in knowing they aren’t alone.
Their doctor may never have lost a baby or been raped, or experienced a trauma that they are willing to share, but I am, and its sad and scary how many have reached out to me to tell me they have been raped too, so many men have told me they were abused as a child after reading my words, some of whom claim they have never told anyone. I love that my hurt is allowing other people to hand their pain over and share in it and be understood rather than feeling alone and lost.
I believe the statistics are that 1 in 3 women are sexually abused at some point and 1 in 10 men. Of course those numbers aren’t accurate because they are based on what’s reported and I can sadly say that it is more like 9/10 people have been sexually assaulted or abused in some form at some point in their lives, whether it was a full fledged rape, molestation or something that made them feel uncomfortable, the line was crossed and 90% is simply too high.
Yet I am eager to learn and to listen and to offer guidance when the person asks.
So I write not only to cleanse my own brain of the pain that has plagued my soul since I was that 12 year old cold in the snow, but I write for those who have never shared and for those who have never been hurt and want to understand what they can do to support the ones in their lives who have been hurt.
I write because it protects me from myself.
I write because it’s a documentation of where I have been and where I never plan to go again.
I write because it’s my pained poetry, a tortured prayer where I know that God can see my soul through the blackness that often covers my heart and He can and will provide me with peace.
I was hanging out over on Musicians Friend again and saw the akai renaissance and was really amazed by all one can do with a very cool machine that uses the power of your computer and your imagination to create music. It can also be used as a stand alone, has so many built in features and all sorts of things that a professional would DREAM OF! I am really excited about this. To think, I am simply looking for a Mic and some decent recording software and stumbling across something as awesome as this!
If you are into production or simply want to create your own sound this is definitely something you should consider!
I take a deep breath and point my bottom up in the air wondering how attractive THAT has to be and sorta laugh to myself how awkward yoga can look and how good it can feel. Even though I am not feeling well I decided to hit the mat and sweat it out and lift up my spiritual energy, centering it, refocusing it on the one who created me in the very beginning and saw that I was good.
It has been easy to be down over the last few months. I have felt a ton of pressure in the little things and a lot of slippery serpent heads slithering their ways into my thoughts and creating anxiety and fear, and a lack of trust. In the last session of Hello Mornings, which I have loved for years and even lead a group with Jen from Faith Mustard Seed in for several sessions. This intimate group of people I thought I could trust and ask for prayer in were the ones I went to when I found out my cousin had another baby born asleep. Before anyone had even commented or offered prayers in the private group I was being tweeted about it and my faith in a female lead church community collapsed -hard.
At the same time I had just finished a course in ministry and had received grades high enough to earn me a scholarship. I haven’t logged back into the site since to see what I would like to take, I haven’t even requested a copy of my transcript or diploma for the first course.
Women are supposed to be building each other up, for ever we have helped one another -raise babies, pray, stay strong in faith, cook meals for other families and even offered to help cook or clean for our female friends and acquaintances when they needed it the most.
We are supposed to be lifting each other up and instead this crazy world of social media, on every platform, has become a game of trying to be better or look better or take better photos or eat better foods or pray better. A game of my way is better than your way and the most beautiful of people from Facebook to Twitter to Youtube have worked hard to cut those life giving umbilical cords to the One who always loves and always pulls us up by showing us their ugly sides.
It is hard to not be pulled down when in the back ground they are spreading rumors, exposing your private moments and your broken-hard is exposed for the entire world to see.
I am having to remind myself daily as I check in with my soul that my faith in Christ has not changed, but my faith in humanity is definitely in question. It is so much easier to slam the laptop closed and keep it all inside, locked away inside the confines of my mind, but like the Queen song says “I want to break free” and in order to be healthy, I need to.
I am definitely on the defensive, my stress levels high and every one who I was trusting as my “church” community whether in real life or online has fallen into this line of wonderment where my PTSD is triggered and I have to ask myself “can I trust you?”
As I raise my hands up and breath in deeply and lift my heart I know that I am being held by God. And that is all that really matters.
The thunder shatters the sky with its lingering boom and the forks of lightening travel down grabbing giant bites of the earth and as quick as it strikes it disappears and the night returns to the black shielded by the clouds. Thick air has lost it’s stickiness as the rain wipes at the ground and everything on it, like a violent baptism and the proof of God’s touch will be evident once the clouds lift and the smell of ozone lingers in the air, when the sun rises the plants will be fed, happier, seemingly taller and more green and though they live without sin the twisted baptism done in the night cleanses all the yuck away and leaves a brighter, happier display of God’s power and might and I remember being 3 years old and my hair bobby-pinned just right and the white dress I wore and my grandma smoking a Number 7 as she tugged and pulled at my hair making it perfect only so a priest could dump the baptismal water over my head and wipe away the painful pulls and place me in the hands of a God who loves always, fiercely, deeply, completely. I watched my brother also clad in white have the water poured over his tiny skull and the sign of the cross on his forehead and the tears come out as this stranger touched him and in my childs-mind I wondered if the tears were the evil that had crawled inside leaving him.
As the storm loses it’s strength and then comes back with a greater intensity than before I can’t help but wonder if that’s how God works in me, I stray and when I become the prodigal son and stumble back home are His arms open wider? Is his love more intense? Or am I simply more willing to acknowledge and accept? Am I still saved of my sins through the baptismal sacrament that happened when I was merely 3 or was I really only saved when I accepted Christ as my saviour so many years later?
Does the child with faith and who does not understand reap the same benefits as someone who has always placed the Word of God and living in God’s love first? When scripture tells us we must come to the throne of the King of Kings in child-like fashion does this mean we must live with the reckless abandon that we had as young’uns? Does it mean I shouldn’t question and simply obey? Is this type of thought even okay? Should I read the books that pull me near or leave them down and enjoy the miracles of Noah and the Ark, Moses leading his people, GODS PEOPLE, out of slavery and into the dessert, should I imagine the parting of the sea or the burning bush? Should I stare into stained glass window panes that depict that stations of the cross and feel the pains that the Christ-child suffered for me?
And as soon as the twisting storm began it calms and I imagine Jesus on that boat taking on water and how He calmed the storm. If only it were the middle of the day I know there would be a rainbow to see!
“I wanna play outside the grave but Satan’s shackles keep me enslaved”
I feel like a child hidden in the shadows and my eyes strain through the darkness to get a glimpse of the light. My heart races faster and faster still and up my spine climbs a goose bump filled chill.
My eyes see darkness, my mind remembers that all shadows are cast by the light, the Light -ever present, all knowing. Seeing everything and brightening a path for each of us lambs to follow. Shepherded by the crook of His staff that never guides wrong.
I am the lone sheep hidden and lost in the woods and I know the heard is safe and He will come for me and His hook will gently press on me and bring me back to the path out of darkness and towards Him.
When I need rest my eyes will close and the lapping sound of waves will wash over me keeping me safe. When I need to wander He will watch. When I fall He will lift me up. When I thirst He will quench it. When I am no longer hidden, He will shine out of me, through me, and everyone will see.
The moment I prayed for salvation I was pulled out of the grave, the shackles fell and I was no longer enslaved. I am not hidden anymore.
As I sit here loading the word document to write I notice that the sky outside looks like cotton candy and I spring to life at 9:30pm wearing my pj’s and grabbing my camera once again to capture a couple of glimpses of the sky that God painted just for me.
I have seen a lot of amazing sky’s out of this window while sitting on my bed. It’s amazing how different it can look from window to window only to be the same exact moon and stars that we all get to see. It is fun to talk to a friend 18 hours away and both be looking at the moon or hunting down the big dipper. Somehow the universe as we are able to see it, seems so big, and I feel so small and yet I know that my place in this world is exactly where I was created to belong.
I’ve been feeling more like me than I was at the beginning of the month. I think it’s fair to say I was having some sort of mini-breakdown, if they can be mini… I think I had a dozen or more cold showers in the midst of panic attacks over nothing, almost always in the night.
The past week I have been picking up the pieces here and there. I am still behind but things are getting done. I’ve been dusting and vacuuming and lighting candles again. Cleaned off some surfaces, switched my purse to a different one for the first time in a couple of years, and I even made myself iced coffee. When I am feeling bleh I don’t drink coffee for the most part, so having a homemade iced mocha made me feel human and gave me a good 14 grams of protein along with the caffeine!
I am currently burning a blueberry scented soy candle that is tucked inside of my REDEEMED holder, reminding me that “Everything is beautiful in its time” and that while I fell behind on household tasks there is no reason that I can’t just hop right back in and tidy up and do what I can while doing my best to take care of myself and not risk burn out again. You can check out DaySpring for inspirational home décor, cards and so much more. I have purchased most of my décor from them as well as a purse and makeup travelling bag! You can also earn up to 6% cashback through my Swagbucks link and right now you can save an additional 25% sitewide during the customer appreciation sale with coupon code THANKYOU
I LOVE these wooden letters and this Bible cover has enough space for me to tuck in extra papers, small bible studies and so much more!