A Mile in the Moccasins of Not Trusting God Enough

One of the worst parts of having an anxiety disorder is being anxious about being anxious.

When I share openly how I'm feeling, I get the impression that my anxiety is looked at as a weakness.  I read a quote recently that said "Anxiety is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of having tried to remain strong for too long."  Yep. Try 40ish years.

Here is the hard-core truth: I do not want to be anxious. Telling me to take a  few deep breaths, take a walk, calm down, try yoga, give it to God, not to worry, yadda yadda yadda only increases the anxiousness that I am feeling - because now on top of the internal pressure, I am anxious about not performing to a standard that suits you.

Recently a friend asked me if I trusted God at all. The most honest answer to that question is, not really. I trust that He loves me, I trust that He cares about me. I trust that whatever happens, He will be there to help me pick up the pieces and ultimately use it all for my good. The trouble with all of this for me is that there is still a lot of hard shit and deep, muddy water sometimes to trudge through in the process.  God has allowed it in the past and He very well might allow it again.  That is where the fear lies - what will I have to go through to get where God wants to take me?  What else am I going to have to survive?

I love the way the Message puts this in Matthew 6:27

"Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch?"

I am under no impression that my worry or anxiety is making any impact on reality, whatsoever. This past week there was a tornado nest forming itself around my oldest daughter where she lives thousands of miles away from me in Texas.  When I read that one was touching down in her town and she posted on Facebook that tornado sirens were going off and I couldn't get in touch with her by phone or text, the fears and thoughts were swirling as fast as those torrential winds.  Here's a little peek into the thought stream of a full-blown panic attack:

"Does she know to get out of the third floor? Is there anywhere to go? Why isn't Gary answering his phone? Did she even think to ask that when she moved in there? She's on foot because she doesn't have a car yet, so there's no way to get anywhere else. Why won't she answer her phone?  I hope she doesn't try to walk from her apartment building to the complex office once the tornado is there. Bathtub! They have a huge bathtub - she can get in that. Oh, she'll need to pull her mattress on top of her. I wonder if she has listened when I told her these things. Oh Jesus! Why isn't she answering her phone? GOD please keep her safe. (this was about all the prayer I could mutter) Where is Jacob? Oh Lord I hope he's not on a roof somewhere."

It just went on and on and on like this for a couple of hours. Even once I reached her by phone, the weather hadn't cleared yet.  I did not think at any point that I could stop the tornadoes, but I did worry my girl would be safe in a way that was crippling and paralyzing.  In contrast, my boss' son who is a college student in that neck of the woods of Texas received a text message from his parents asking if he was alright.

Sometimes well meaning people advise me to "trust God", not realizing it just makes me feel like more of a failure, like.I'm.failing.God.  He knows that I am dust. He knows my frailties and my weaknesses. He knows the capacity I have for trust, and if I am trusting enough.

There are a lot of things that have happened to bring me here. The truth of the matter is that nobody wants it to go away more than I do. I hate it that it has frustrated people that love me and that my friends don't know what to say or do. Sometimes the best medicine is a hug and hearing "it's going to be okay". Please know that I am trying. Short of taking a handy-dandy handful of pills that the doctor is more than willing to prescribe which will offer me a number of other side effects and drug reactions to put in place of the anxiety and numb me of every other feeling, pain or pleasure - I am doing absolutely everything I can to work on this day by day. I've re-instituted my yoga routine, I'm doing a Beth Moore study on Esther that illustrates God using the most adverse circumstances for someone's ultimate good (pay attention Julie!), I'm starting a self-help class that helps re-wire your brain so you learn to process stresses differently, I attended a recovery Bible study faithfully for 6 months even though I was the.only.regular attendee with my loving Sasquatch by my side and I have also been doing several other things that I won't mention for fear of how weird they might sound.  My body even betrays me, when I'm feeling calm mentally, suddenly my pulse will be soaring with a heart rate of 100+.

This is a process. Healing is a process.  The healing is emotional, mental and physical.  The damage didn't happen overnight and it isn't going to heal overnight. Be patient with me and and in so doing, help me learn to be patient with myself. I'm a work in progress.

The Question Without an Answer

WHY? What about me didn't deserve to be cared for, protected, loved? I don't understand - sometimes life feels like swimming in a sea of people who all seem to have life jackets but nobody has one for me - I'm just adrift, getting more and more tired, and each person I swim up to refuses to let me hold on.
This is me in the natural - the insecurities that I wrestle with - the fear, abandonment and rejection that are palpable at times. God is reminding me of His love, but today I am having trouble accessing it, feeling it, knowing it in my heart of hearts. I don't need any answers - just wanted to share this in case one day you are feeling this way too - so you know you are not alone.
Papa, pour your love on me today.

He is That Good

I'm sitting on my front porch, in the dark, listening to the rain. It is lovely. The air is cool and damp, but this damp is the hopeful damp of spring. It is nurturing the trees and flowers, new life, emergence even now in the night. To chase the night chill, a hot cup of tea provides the perfect remedy.
I am reminded that I have gone through one of the hardest transformations of my life. This ability to sit here alone in the quiet symphony of raindrops unafraid is a part of a new me. I am being molded and re-shapen - the broken clay in the Potter's hands. I have hope that He is making something beautiful among the ruins. I don't know how I ever took that first step off of that cliff, but I can testify to the Everlasting Arms that caught me.
I am surrounded by His all-encompassing love. There are things I am starting to hope for my future, and my soul asks of Him, "Could You really be that good?"
I am not sure how the journey was made from utter hopelessness to one of such promise and peace, but let my life be a testimony. Yes, He really is that good.

Wake up to the Reality

Things are difficult. I cry at times when I don't expect tears to come. Making potato soup yesterday, I was overwhelmed with worry about what Travis was eating, and in the next moment felt pathetic and small to care so much for someone who cared so little for me. He threatened divorce the other day with an ultimatum that I apologize for something that was irrational. He is free to make whatever choices he feels are necessary. But it hurts, and driving in the rain to get my kids from a birthday party I just let it all out. Between the tears and the rain, I am not sure how I made it to my destination.
It is a lonely road that I am on. People encourage you and love you and tell you you're brave, and what a great job that you're doing, but in the end you are the one that must wake up every morning to the reality of your situation. In general, the kids and I are very happy. There is a peace that has settled - this feeling that we're going to be alright and I am so thankful for that. But in the meantime there is still a lot of hurt, a lot of unresolved issues, and memories of terrible things that happened that I had long since buried deep inside myself that keep coming up like vomit. I have to deal with them, but to tell you the truth I really don't know how. These are ugly, awful things - and even though I was the victim and not the perpetrator, I feel hideous inside for the remembering. I can't really explain this fully - but yesterday morning when Porky (the pastor of our old church The Chapel) said "The One who knows you best, loves you the most" just overwhelmed me with emotion.
I am still trying to reconcile all of it. Abuse makes you feel filthy, dirty, worthless, small, powerless.... The touching - all the touching, and the anger, the things flying around in your head, and the names you're dodging, trying to hold your breath until you're allowed up for air, and hope it isn't too late. You try to rationalize that you aren't the things you are called but you were taught so long ago not to trust yourself because you are nothing. You become convinced that even God regrets having created you.
I am having a particularly hard day. There seems to be nobody in particular to share it with. For the most part, though I have some amazing friends, I feel like I have to keep a lid on all this intensity for their sake. I need them, and I don't want to scare them away. If I start to really allow myself to cry this out, I fear I may never stop. This song that I heard the other day keeps running through my brain...

....please don't fight these hands that are holding you.....
What isn't making things any easier right now is that I injured my back. I am hoping it is muscular strain from all the moving and unpacking, but I am literally waking up every couple of hours and finding that it hurts so badly I can barely roll over. Once I do get rolled over, I can't get comfortable, and then I'm awake very early. Just what I needed.

Scaredy Cat

Last night the girls were spending the night with a friend, so Kullen and I had Tina and the boys come over and watch Twilight with us. You know, Twizzlers, popcorn, Pepsi, and we laughed ourselves silly. She is so short, she looked like Edith Ann sitting in my big red chair, and that caught my funny bone. But for the most part, I don't remember what we laughed so much about. It was just good to laugh wholeheartedly and without reservation. To laugh and talk and be myself without feeling that I would be ridiculed.
After they left, and it was just Kullen and I home alone, the house was so big, and so quiet, and nestled so deeply in the woods. I couldn't help but think of that damn movie "The Strangers" that my girls thought would be fun to see. The only truly scary movies are things that could really happen, and that movie was about an home invasion of the most evil kind. I kept freaking out with images of people standing around the house just staring at it - and even looked a few times to see if anyone was out there.
I don't undertand it - having had a mom who was a "party-girl" and left me alone all night long from the time I was very young. I never had the luxury of being afraid to be alone. I think it is the knowing - the choice to be on my own and not knowing how permanent this is, combined with the scary movie. No more scary movies for me for a while. I also asked the girls to have sleepovers here until I get a little more used to this house!

I'm Not Brave

In the past few weeks so many people have told me how proud they are of me and how brave I am. I feel so the opposite. Last night was the first night the kids were downstairs watching a movie and I heard the floor upstairs creak and stood completely still for just a minute, terrified. My mom was single for a while, and even when she was married my step-dad worked a lot of nights so she would go out and leave me alone. I have done this a million times. But now it seems so real, so permanent, so much up to me.
The crazy part is that the biggest threat to me and my family has lived inside the four walls with us for the last 20 years. I have protected and defended myself and my children, but in a far different fashion that anyone might have imagined. I know I can do this, but sometimes I feel tremendous fear. There is nothing to do but what is before me. So I went to bed afraid last night, and today I make it through another day.

If you were interested in seeing pictures inside they house they are available here. You can click on them and make them larger if you look.

To Clarify

Travis was only mad for about 2 minutes. Once he got over that horrific feeling that something happened to Kaitlyn he calmed down. He knew it was a prank gone wrong and too far. He forgave me instantly. I posted about it because I still felt bad. Just thought you'd like to know.

Quiet - Please!

Have I ever mentioned that I have trouble with quiet? Those who know me IRL certainly might surmise that at the sheer amount of words that can emit from my mouth when I am in good company. Can I help that I love good conversation?
But serioiusly - silence - that complete silence where all you can hear is your own breath and maybe your heart beat - freaks.me.out!
I am sitting ont he front porch right now and if there weren't birds twittering in the trees, kitty cats crunching on their food or the gentle clanking sound of my wooden windchimes, I might freak out.
I have a theory. After my parents divorce, I stayed at home alone a LOT. I was only about 10 by the time my brother went to live with our dad. I don't think I ever told anybody how scared I was to be left alone. My mom would get angry at me if I made her feel guilty for going out at night to the clubs she frequented, so I never told her that I was terrified. One thing that helped me feel better was to have either the TV or the radio on at all times.
Eventually I got older and stopped being scared, but I never got over being freaked out by the silence. Even today it is an issue. I can't stand the quiet.
And there is one thing a writer needs great amounts of, which would be my greatest tool and that is uninterrupted silence. Now that I really really want it, I can't seem to get it.
I have passed this on to my children who all seem to have to have something audible going on at all times. Today we were hiking some of the trails, me thinking that being connected with nature would help me reconnect a little with real life and help the writing process. We are walking along, having nice gentle conversation, hearing leaves rustle, looking at cobwebs, when all of a sudden some sort of gangsta music starts to play - it's Kendra with music blaring from her cell phone.
At least until I shot her the evil eye.
She said it helps her enjoy nature more - I beg to differ.

Unexpected Twists and Turns

Okay - so the first week of Script Frenzy is over - and week two has begun. I have written a total of 8 pages. (I know - hold the applause!) The first week of any month is the most hectic at work, and life itself seems busy. One of the hardest things about writing is finding the time. Seriously. I've got tons of material. I always have something on my mind. But, life seems to spin out of control, and before I know it - another day has gone with no writing.
The best advice was truly using the "butt in the chair" method. I'm trying.
But, here's the deal. I was writing my story and it took an ugly and unexpected turn. There is a car accident. I had one fairly minor, although terrifying car accident years ago. Nobody went to the hospital - but my car was totaled. I am going to have to do some research - but am afraid of answers, or to dig into the subject thinking I may never get in a car again. This really isn't an option. So I'm throwing this out there - does anybody have any ideas of how I research what happens at an accident scene, how police contact a family member. I want to know how my main character who is pretty torn up in the accident gets her purse and cell phone back. I have no idea how that would play out. Any ideas? I do have a neighbor who was a DPS officer who told me once that the worst part of his job was to go to the door of someone's house and tell the parents that their child wasn't coming home and I can't even imagine. I think I could ask him - but I am not sure I want to entertain those thoughts or feel those feelings. I am not sure this will stay in my story - but it is where I am right now.
Just thought you would like an update.
And for all of you who promised chocolate - I am still waiting.

What is a Blog?

Until about three months ago, I had never heard this term. Then one day I was on a yahoo group, and someone posted a “check out my blog” link. Wondering what a blog was, and being somewhat interested based on the content of the other posts this person had made, I clicked. I was transfixed! This lady had pictures of her family, and writings from her heart. It was so cool. So then I started searching for blog sites. I tried to get one with blogger – signed up and then basically could NOT figure it out. I really wasn’t wanting something I had to work that hard for in my life at that time. Then, about a month or so ago, I stumbled on another “check out my blog” link that led me to Homeschoolblogger. I signed up for my free account and I got hooked!

Now, I’m not sure what it is about a blog – but not everybody understands it. My husband cringes at the word “blog” which makes me playfully want to say it as much as possible! My girls have caught the bug – and love working on their blogs as well, and so have some of my friends. But others don’t understand it at all. “Why would you want to write stuff about yourself and your family and put it on the internet?” “Who would want to read things that are going on inside of your little head?” “How safe is it to put things out there about yourself?” I think that there are two types of people - those of us who GET blogging – and those who don’t. I have tried to scan other types of blogs – and while they are occasionally interesting, they don’t encourage me and inspire me like those of you who are my buddies here at Homeschoolblogger. We are mainly cut from the same mold – we are mothers, many are wives, a great many are Christian, we are all homemakers – and we have so much to share and learn from each other! The rest of the world who sit at their computer screens, scratching their heads, can keep on scratching, while we are blogging our little hearts out!