Pain is (unfortunately) Essential

We have to suffer sometimes. We do.

I'm really bad about puking rainbows onto people daily. I'm always challenging people to look for the good in their situation. Even though it is healthy to vent about the problems you are dealing with, it is not healthy to continually moan and groan about your life. To constantly complain about the things going wrong in your life doesn't change your circumstance nor your perspective.

But that doesn't mean I don't believe in suffering.

That doesn't mean I don't think suffering and heartache are vital roads we have to choose to take sometimes. If we do not embrace the moments we experience suffering, we easily forget about the good things that shine bright in our life. Suffering and pain is needed to helps us grow, I believe it makes us better and happier people in the long run.

There is this mentality in our culture that you should always avoid pain. We've made this life into focusing on our happiness.

"If you're not happy with your circumstances then change them." That seems to be the melody of our time.

Though I believe there is a time in place for self empowerment and taking the reigns of your life and pulling yourself out of negativity. I also believe there is a time and place for sitting in your shitty situation and allowing it to make you better.

Sometimes tears are necessary. For maybe the ground we sit upon needs those tears to help grow something new and beautiful.

I recently read an old quote from Hannah Brencher where she was talking about the chiseling process. The process in which all the old things that weigh you down are being chiseled away.

The more I thought about this process, the more I realized how much it hurts. To allow parts that are apart of you to be chiseled away is going to hurt like hell. It's going to hurt, you will be uncomfortable the whole time, and guess what.... You're not going to be happy with the process. But if we really want to be new, if we really want to spend our lives dancing in freedom, we have to be unhappy for a while. We have to allow the pain so that one day we can spread our wings and we will be light enough for the wind to pick us up and allow us to fly.

The chiseling process looks different for each of us, maybe it's just an attitude change or a change in perspective. For others it might be a change of relationships or job. Whatever it is, it's not going to be easy and it might hurt in some way such as your pride or comfort zone. But I can't stop believing we were made for this. We weren't made to carry our past nor other peoples baggage on our shoulders. I personally believe in a God who became a martyr so that we wouldn't have to be one.

I started the chiseling process last year. It hasn't been easy and it hasn't always been fun. Yet, I'm waking up each day with a little more bounce in my step than the day before. I'm finding my life to take directions and turns I never considered possible before. My life is going in a direction that is filled with freedom and love. The cool thing about receiving freedom and love is you find yourself wanting to give it more often to others. If I can give anyone anything, that's exactly what I want to give them: freedom and love.

Control.

I struggle with control.

There. I finally said it.

I don't why. I really don't. 

Sure, life has thrown tragedy in my face a few times but the control was there before I knew of tragedy. Even as a kid, I was very driven and stubborn.

It's like the illusion of control is apart of my genetic make up. As if it was an issue entrusted into me before I had a choice. 

Lack of trust. Struggling to trust someone or something outside of yourself. 

That's what God has revealed to me as to what a control issue really is.

Life is kind of like a pinball machine if you think about it. You have two buttons to help guide and direct the pinball that is bouncing around, but you actually do not control the ball. You manipulate it to go in the directions you want it to, but you really do not control the ball. The control is only an illusion.

It's a driving force inside of me, this illusion of control. Constantly trying to rid me of my contentment and joy in life.

The other night I was riding with a friend of mine and I found the words 'okay' falling from my lips. "I'm okay." I told her, "I'm finally just okay and that's not a bad thing."

To be okay. To be stagnant. I'm coming to find that it's not horrible. I've always been so driven and controlling of my life that stagnant was never a comfortable place for me before. When I would reach a place of stillness, I would find my sense of control become heightened and I would go out looking for new things, looking for something to keep me moving.

Control isn't necessarily a bad thing. It takes good self control to maintain a healthy lifestyle. A certain amount of control has to be exhorted in so many aspects of our lives, but just like any other thing in life, when it becomes your mechanism to deal with problems, the one thing you depend on to make you feel normal again, it turns into a problem.

For me to say, "I'm okay and that's not a bad thing" is a huge leap for me. It's huge because 'okay' is not exciting. 'Okay' is not fireworks or adventures across the country. It's exactly what it sounds like. It's not being high on something good or swimming in the lows. You're just exactly where you are. Nothing horrible, nothing awesome. 

And that's where I'm finally letting myself be for a while. I'm letting myself float in the sea of 'okay'. I'm letting myself take in the joy and relaxation it has to offer. I'm drinking in the glass of contentment and for the first time believing I do not have to be in control of my life, every waking moment. I'm laying back, closing my eyes, and allowing my mind to be content with that. To be content with being right where I am.

To be in control of yourself and your life at all times is exhausting. You find yourself diving into the sea of over thinking and self doubt. It leads you to many wrestling matches with discontentment and low self-worth. 

It just became too much for me. To not trust anyone or anything other than myself became a lonely road. You can't bottle everything up and only allow yourself to know the hurts and pains you feel. You can't keep all your crazy thoughts and ideas floating around inside of you. They float because they have the ability to fly. You just have to let go of the control and allow them to leave. Those thoughts and ideas may never become anything or help anyone but you never truly know unless you release them.

Having a strong sense of control IS NOT a bad thing. It takes good, strong self control to accomplish the best things in this life. But we have to learn to let go of it at times. We have to be willing to be just 'okay' or sad or happy. We don't always have to be in control. 

I'm finding myself falling back on the one truth that has yet to fail me. The truth that some of the best things are not planned. Planning is another form of control. It's taking your future and it creates a false sense of security that something good and predictable will be waiting for you there. But the truth is that my best memories are things that weren't planned. My favorite encounters with people were the ones I didn't plan to have. 

So maybe control is not all it's cracked up to be. Maybe, just maybe, we can still have a fun, fulfilling life without controlling every direction it takes.

Thank You For Staying

Moms,

You know you can leave right?

I bet you know where the suitcase is. I bet you know which pile of unfolded clothes you could grab a handful of and know it will be enough to get you out, for you to leave.

You could walk away from being a mom anytime you want to.

Now, some of you are thinking, "This is absurd. There is no way I would leave my babies. Yes, I could run out of the house screaming some days, but I would always come back. Always."

For those thinking that, THANK YOU FOR STAYING.

Because you really could wake up one day and decide to leave it all behind you. Believe it or not, women make that choice everyday. You want to know why?

BECAUSE BEING A MOM IS THE HARDEST JOB IN THE WORLD.

It is by the far the hardest, under paid job in the world.

I work in a world where I have the sweetest souls walk into my office and tell me story after story about how their mom decided to stop being a mom.

The story doesn't always include a suitcase. Sometimes it involves pills, a bottle, a needle, a man. Just because the woman who gave birth to you is living in your home does not mean she's a mother to you.

So if you have a sweet little angel anxiously handing you a hand made card, or a grown adult calling you this Mother's Day, I want to tell you THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING THIS.

Thank you for the nights you sacrificed sleep.

Thank you for the days you handed that sweet child into their father's arms and walked away to refresh your mind.

Thank you for staying, when the judgmental stares came during a trip to the grocery store and the biggest temper tantrum of all time occurred.

Thank you for staying, when vomit and diarrhea find it's way onto your shirt and pants.

Thank you for staying when you didn't think you had the energy to.

Staying is half the battle. If you can stay, your halfway doing it. Give yourself credit for that. Really, it's a huge part of the job.

I especially want to say thank you to the step mothers, foster mothers, and adopted mothers of the world.

You did not carry that child in your womb. You did not spend 9 months, feeling that child grow inside of you.

You, especially you, DO NOT HAVE TO STAY.

But you do. You stay. Everyday you choose to love a child as if you had them with you from the beginning. Your love is just as strong and vibrant, ready to storm after anyone who ever tries to hurt them or harm them. You laugh with them, you cry with them, you get angry with them. Yet, you are probably the most under appreciated part of their lives. I hope you know, that even if your child never fully knows how to express it to you, YOU MEAN EVERYTHING TO THEM.

Mom's, I can never thank you enough for staying. I can tell you that I SEE you. I see what you are doing and you are doing it beautifully. You are dancing to the dance of motherhood beautifully, mistakes and all. Just because you stumble and fall from time to time does not mean you are a bad mother, it just means you're human. It means you are living, breathing, heart beating human who is still here on this planet to shower love onto your child. I can't tell you how many people wish their mom was still here to do that.

No, you won't always do it right.

No, you won't always feel like what you do is enough.

But I hope you always take the time to remind yourself that you don't have to be perfect. No one was ever looking for perfect. They just wanted to know that they could count on you to be there. That's it. Your imperfect presence is always what's longed for.

So on this Mother's Day, read the cards and words and believe them. Believe that what you are doing TRULY DESERVES TO BE RECOGNIZED.

Who you are is enough. Allow us to celebrate that about you this mother's day weekend. Allow us to celebrate YOU.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY.

Timing and Patience.

I have a thing with time. The 'thing' is that I'm ridiculously aware of it. It is very rare that I'm not subconsciously aware of how long I've been doing something or how long something will take. 

I really wish I could turn it off. I really just want to be this person who gets so lost in her day that before she knows it, the day is over. I want to do better at having days where I do not have plans and I walk out of the house and not look at the clock the rest of the day.

It's hard for me though. It's hard to be that person. Time is apart of who I am and it's hard to walk away from.

The hardest part for me, when it comes to my internal ticking clock, is accepting the fact that other peoples clocks are not on the same time zone as me. When you have this dominating sense of time, you tend to lose patience with the people easily. You forget that they feel time differently than you do and that neither one of you have the "right" timing.

I read an email this morning and in this email these simple words in a prayer were mentioned, "reduce me to love."

I'll be honest with you, that's all I want to do for people. I just want to love them. I want to love them right where they are, for who they are. I want to look them square in the eye and say, "Who you are is enough. Fault lines and all. You're beautiful. And when those fault lines shift and shake your world and mine, I'm still going to love you. I'm still going to want what's best for you."

The most commonly known scripture is 1 Corinthians 13:3-7. People love it because people love love and it's nice to have something to tell you what it's suppose to look like.

If you read this scripture, the very first characteristic used to describe love is patience.

We live in a world where not only do we want it, but we want it now. Hell, we get nervous and antsy when we send someone a text and they don't respond right away (especially in dating. Dear God. We are especially impatient when we are on the road looking for love.)

But love IS patient. Love IS setting our own time clock down and saying, " I'll wait for you. I'll wait for you as you work at your own pace. And if you get ahead of me I hope you love me enough to not rush me. I hope you can give me the time I need."

Reducing yourself to love is not easy, especially when the first thing love gives is patience in a world where patience is a dying breed. 

What all this has told me lately is that in order to love people the way you want to love them, you have to let go of your own time clock. You have to let go of that ticking inside of you so that you can love that person or yourself with patience. You can't expect everyone to see things in the timing you see them and you're only hurting yourself and your relationship with that person if you are not willing to be patient with them and allow them to figure things out in their timing. It's not our job to get people on our time clock. It's our job to love and respect their timing and know that you deserve the same in return.

I oddly have to use this same kind of love with myself. I don't like to be behind, I either want to be caught up with everyone or ahead. I'm having to learn this same level of patience with myself. I'm hoping with starting the practice with myself, it will some how manifest itself into my relationships with other people.

It's so hard to be that patient person, though. I hope I'm not alone in this when I say being a patient person feels near impossible. Especially when it's easy to speak of patience and hard to act on it. Patience has become an adjective when it really needs to be a verb. 

I believe patience is the first characteristic mentioned when describing love because it's the most important. It's the first thing we have to bite into and commit to, whether we are choosing to love ourselves or other people.

Love is the answer for me and I believe it will win in the end. I can't stop believing it will win in the end. 

Healing

It was Friday March 14, 2014. I walked through the doors into Barnes and Noble. I walked to the first row of books that came into my eyesight and I started looking. I didn’t know what I was looking for but I was determined to find what I didn’t know I needed at the time. I judged each book by its cover, taking in each syllable, praying one would finally be it.

At this time in my life, my head had been spinning nonstop with thoughts for over a month. I was tired of the spinning, I truly didn’t understand the spinning, so I was looking for the answer. I was looking down each shelf of the beautifully displayed books, praying one would say, “Pick me. I’m what you need, I’m what you are looking for.”

I paced back and worth down my ‘go to’ isles. I went to each section of authors that I normally love. As I read each description of the books I picked up, nothing called me to take it home.

I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted the spinning in my head to stop. There was so much clutter. There were clutters of emotions I had suppressed for months. There were current feelings that I didn’t understand. All were colliding together, creating constant noise in my head.

I was really busy at this time in my life. I mean, REALLY BUSY. I was working three jobs, saying yes to anyone who asked me to do something. The business was good. It distracted me from the noise in my head. I could function (or I thought I could at least). But on this Friday night, my phone was not buzzing with text messages, there were no notification to attend to. All that was left was the noise and I.

I finally gave up. I could not find the answers I was looking for on the shelves of Barnes and Noble. Amidst the thousands of words that could have been carried with me with one swift movement, I could not find the ones I so desperately needed.

I finally walked to the Best Seller section, saw The Great Gatsby, remembered how I liked the movie but never read the book. I wanted to walk out with something, so I settled for this fictional paperback.

I began to walk towards the register when I noticed out the corner of my eye a section I never visit. It’s on the far end, kind of awkwardly set aside. On it’s shelves held pages and pages of blank papers; journals. One in particular caught my eye. It had a red bind with little strips of different colors paper sown in with red string. I remember staring at it. I loved the colors. I loved the way the paper was sown into the cover. I came in search for words that night, but instead I walked away with blank pages.

I bought The Great Gatsby, the blank journal, and went to Starbucks. I got my favorite non-coffee drink, posted a filtered picture onto Instagram (because when your world has become chaotic, sometimes a filtered picture can deceive you into believing you can filter your real life), sat back and tried to read.

I couldn’t make it through the first chapter. Even though I was in a crowded coffee shop, on a Friday night, surrounded by multiple conversations, I could not drown out the emotions that were so desperately trying to escape. I began to realize that Instagram filters cannot actually filter your real feelings and I had to get them out. I had to some how find a way to release the pressure.

That’s when I put the book down, dug through my purse, found a pen and began to write down some of the noise that was screaming in my head. I wonder what I looked liked from the outside in this moment. I feel like I looked like this idealistic girl, sitting in a coffee shop without any cares in the world but if you were to read that entry on March 14^th, you would have learned other wise.

I wrote until I felt I was going to cry in the middle of Starbucks, so I stopped, grabbed my stuff, and left. I went home to my roommates and acted as if I had had a relaxing Friday night alone.

It was later that night that I noticed a difference in myself as I laid down to sleep. I felt better in the same way you feel after taking a decongestant when you have sinus problems. The problem hasn’t left, but for a brief moment, you experienced a release of pressure. For a solid moment, you can breathe again.

I once had someone tell me that sometimes we ask God for the answers, for the tools to fix things when it reality He’s already given us all we need. Everything we need, is just laying inside of us, waiting to be used. That’s what happened that night in Barnes and Noble. I went in looking for other people’s words, for their words to bring me relief when in reality what I needed that night was inside of me. The words I needed were laying in my chest, just waiting to be released.

I’ve been journaling and blogging ever since that night. I have been writing and releasing words that build up inside of me. I went one week without writing and I paid the price for it. I began to feel emotionally constipated. I’m extremely empathetic and a processor, I have learned that if I do not take time to sit and process my thoughts, my head can get foggy. It can clutter easily.

This night was just the beginning of a long healing process for me. It was just the spark to a dark hard road that would only spit me out better and stronger. Writing became apart of my healing process. It has become apart of me.

Writing helped heal me. Something that has always been sitting inside of me helped heal me.

The Letting Go Melody Continues...

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” 

― Rainer Maria Rilke

I feel like I write so much on letting go.

It's the reoccurring melody in my life. I feel like 90% of the time I come to God with my worries, concerns, and questions his answer at the end is always,"Let it go, love. You just have to let it go."

It's never the answer I want, so I run to 20 other people with my same woahs and concerns. But it doesn't matter how hard I try to shake the magic eight ball with people, the answer is always the same in the end. 

Trust and let it go.

I was reading a book last night and the author talked about the story in Mark 10. It's the story of the rich man coming to Jesus asking what he needed to do in order to have eternal life. As I read the story myself, I see this man coming up to Jesus, cautious, knowing the type of man he is speaking with. Jesus replies in a way one would answer kids who ask the exact same question in 20 different ways. I bet he had this tone like, "You know the answer, but I'll play along and tell you what you already know."

The man then told him that he had been doing this his whole life. If you keep reading, something pops out that had never popped out to me before. The author of the book is the one who pointed it out to me. She pointed out the beginning of verse 21 that said, "Jesus saw him and loved him."

He SAW him and LOVED him.

Tears. Tears came streaming down my face.

I put myself in that man's position in that moment. Coming to God asking for answers that he knows I already know the answers to. Yet, He SEE'S me and LOVES me. Still.

It feels so good to be seen. To not only be seen, but to be loved as well.

It's comforting to know that in all my rambling and and questions, He see's me. He hears me. Yet, the answer is still the same.

And ironically (or not really) he continues on to tell the man that he has to LET GO. For him it was possession but I feel like it's bigger than just possessions. It's EVERYTHING that holds space up in our lives. It's the things that clutter our head. It's the things that wake us up in the middle of the night. It's the dreams we don't understand. God says, "You want me? You really want me? Let go. Let go of all the clutter. It's only preventing you from getting to me."

Maybe the melody of letting go is not a horrible melody to be dancing to. It's difficult and complex but in the end, I don't think I'll regret it. And regret, that's the one guy I've made a goal to live with less. There are going to be regrets at times due to decisions you've made, they are unavoidable but if there is any regret I try to avoid, it's the one of just not taking the risk, taking a leap of faith and just seeing what can happen.

In the end, you won't have the 'what if' regrets. You might not be the happiest with your decision, but you'll be able to walk tall knowing you tried. You at least tried.

Remembering.

I remember this time last year. I remember it all too well.

I remember sitting alone in my room, laptop in hand, having to write the hardest email I have ever written.

I remember the way the keys felt beneath my fingers. I remember the warmth of my laptop. But what I remember the most is the peace and confirmation that came as I wrote. Even though this was by far the hardest thing I have ever had to do, everything in me told me it was right. Everything in me pushed me to keep typing the letters. I felt relief fill my tired muscles as each syllable found it's way onto my computer screen.

I was having to tell someone that I was letting go, I was walking away. This wasn't something I normally do. I have always boasted about my ability to stay in touch with people, about my ability to maintain relationships with people. This was outside my norm. I have never been one to tell someone, "I can no longer be apart of your life." I wasn't letting them go because of anything they had done. Truth be told I had known for a while. I had known it was time to walk away because I needed to grow and I couldn't with them in my life. As much as I loved them with every ounce of who I am, I knew I was made to grow and I couldn't if they stayed.

That's the thing about growing. You can't always grow while clinging onto someone. You can't grow to your full potential if you are alway holding back for someone else, always trying to be the one to support them. Always being the one to help push them back up to the surface when they need air.

I wrote someone a letter one time. It's a letter I never sent to them for they decided to let me go, for they too knew that sometimes, no matter how wonderful the person is, you can't grow the way you need to with them. I wrote it because I felt I had held them back. I felt that I had and would have been a hinderance to their growth if they stayed. I'm so sensitive to hurting people that I'll not only apologize for things I did, but for things I could have done as well. That's what I did in this letter. I apologized for what could have happened if they stayed. I apologized because I wanted them to stay at the time, not realizing the consequences they would have had to suffer if they did. I wrote, "I was puking up emotions, grasping for something to hold onto, and you didn’t need to be that person to hold me up. You didn’t need to be the person who was cleaning up my emotional vomit and if you had stuck around that’s exactly what you would have done, because even though I didn’t spend much time with you, I already could see that you would be the guy to clean up my emotional mess if you were put in that kind of position. You know what though? You were not created to be someone’s janitor, cleaning up after a mess they’ve made." 

I'm not ashamed to admit when I'm right and I truly believe I was right when I said, "You were not created to be someone's janitor." Because you weren't. You weren't created to just clean up others people's messes and other people were not created to clean up yours.

Hannah Brencher posted a quote onto Instagram yesterday that has been spinning through my mind since. It said, "Clinging is just shrinking wearing more makeup. It's not your job to determine what parts of your identity you wanted to wear like a mask forever. It's not your job to try and control who stays. It's sad and hopeful all at the same time: some things are only going to become the beautiful they were meant to be when we give ourselves the permission to let them go for good."

I think about this person I wrote the unsent letter to and I can't help but hope and pray they are becoming the beautiful they were meant to be. I pray that by letting go, they have been able to grow and find ways to let go of the hard things they need to let go of.

The email I wrote and sent, well I receiving an email back. I remember reading the words and feeling all the hurt they carried. I remembered crying because I never wanted to hurt them, that was what kept me from letting go in the first place. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.

 I remember calling people who cared about me in tears because even though I had peace while writing the email, the reality and pain that came with the truth was hard to deal with alone. 

I was reminded of this email that I wrote over a year ago tonight. I was reminded of the pain and heartbreak that came with the truth. Tonight, I happily sit in my bed, with my laptop in my lap and drink in the joy of taking the hard road. I drink in the power truth really has and the promise that comes with letting go, finally believing that it has the ability to change everything for the good. Sometimes letting go has to take place so that JOY can find a way to take root in your life and grow. 

There are aches and pain in letting certain people go but I can't help but believe that it does more good than harm.