Closed Doors

This is on my mind daily. Which should be reason enough to assume that means I’m supposed to do something about it. But yet, I remain frozen. Terrified. Unnerved. Trying to figure out “why” and “where do I go from here.”

A year ago I was comfortable with where I was in life. Sure, there were a lot of things that weren’t ideal Things that I would change if I could. (Aren’t there always?) But overall? I was comfortable. When I took a step back and really analyzed where I was, how my life ended up, I discovered that it was good. That all things considered, I hadn’t done too badly for myself.

And then, things started to change. Inexplicably. Things that I loved started to get tainted. They started to leave a bitter taste on my tongue and an uneasiness in my heart. Small things at first. Things that I could (mostly) take in stride. Vent about. Then take a deep breath and move on. But the small things started to pile up and turn into big things. Until I finally found myself in my current position. Feeling that I am being ushered – no – SHOVED right out of the doorway of the house of comfort I’ve been sitting in for years.

I’ve tried to dig in my heels. To resist it. But. I just. Keep. Getting. Shoved. The harder I dig in, the harder I get shoved. I dig in. I get shoved. And then, I settle into the new, less comfortable way things are. And I think “This is okay. I can handle this. It’s not THAT uncomfortable.” as I adjust my position so the elbow in my back is just a little bit more to the right. Then, when I think I’ve figured out a way to sit so I’m comfortable (enough), another elbow pops up. And another. And another. And, seriously, how many elbows does this guy have?! And then we graduate to feet. Because everyone knows you can push harder with your legs. So I get shoved further. And further. And harder.

Maybe I’m a little slow to figure things out. Maybe I’m a little stubborn. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. But I’m beginning to think that maybe there is someone who is sick of my ignorance and stubbornness and is taking matters into His own hands.

The more I think about it, though, the more I wonder – is it really that I was content with life? Did I really think that everything was going just great? Or is it just that I was comfortable where I was because the place I ended up became like home to me? Because I had been there so long. That I knew what to expect. What was going on. Maybe it’s just that things were familiar.

I am also kind of coming to believe that maybe God doesn’t LIKE it when we’re comfortable. Maybe it provides us too much opportunity to “slack off”. It can keep us from spending time developing our relationship with Him. Because everything is “just fine” as it is. No need to change anything. It keeps us from always striving for more. Maybe He shoves us to get us exploring more. Thinking more. Learning more. To get us to realize that we are capable. Of. MORE.  

And yet, it’s still SO HARD to take that step. We all know that the whole point of faith is that you don’t know what’s coming next and you just need to trust. But, let me tell you, when you’re nearing the edge of the cliff and you’ve got an infinite number of elbows and feet pushing you closer, it’s not easy. It’s terrifying. You have no idea what’s coming. All you can see is the edge of the cliff getting closer and closer and you can’t stop it no matter how hard you try. Maybe there’s a just a nice easy trail that winds its way down the side that will make you wonder why you were so terrified of the edge in the first place. Maybe there’s a series of landings that gradually stair step their way down requiring you to make some big leaps – not necessarily an easy way down, but not the worst either. Maybe you’ll get there and there will just be a sheer drop off and with the relentless elbows and feet at your back, you will just have to trust that when you start freefalling, someone will catch you.

The reality is, that we’re going over the edge one way or another. And I’m sure that God would really just appreciate it if we would go “okay, I see where you’re pointing me” and RUN, fearlessly, toward the edge, hurling ourselves off with reckless abandon and straight into the plan He’s had for us all along. But for those of us who are a little more stubborn, He’ll still get us there. He has no problem pushing us up to the edge and then just giving us a shove off. So that when we finally see what all the shoving was about we can marvel at the way that He STILL pulls through for us. Every. Time. The way that His plans for us turn out to be bigger than we could have ever imagined from our place of comfort. Always. And the way He doesn’t let our own stubbornness and fear keep us from His plan for our lives. Ever.

Here's the thing...

Here’s the thing. About struggling with mental health. A lot of people just don’t “get” it. They’ll try. They’ll pretend that they do for your benefit. But they don’t. Not really.

And sometimes, the things that you do as a result of your mental health struggle seem unreasonable to those who don’t understand. They seem like extreme measures. And those people, whether they mean to or not, may react in ways that only add to your struggle. They may say things or do things that will make you feel like you ARE being unreasonable. Or that your “extreme measures” are a bit TOO extreme. But it’s important that you remember that they’re not. Not really.

What others frequently don’t understand is that just like with anything else, when we struggle, we learn. Mental health is no different. When we struggle, we learn and we learn quickly. We have to. Because in some cases, it is, quite literally, life or death. But those who have never struggled don’t understand that. And they probably never will. Not really.

They don’t understand that (sometimes) we can see things coming that we KNOW will send us backwards in our journey. They don’t understand that when we see those things coming, we do EVERYHING we can to avoid them. To keep them from coming. Or at least avoid having to fact them head on. Because we’ve learned. And. Honestly? Because we know that there’s a good chance that something else is coming that we DON’T see coming that will inevitably send us backwards. Others don’t understand that we’re trying to avoid what we CAN see coming in order to save our energy to fight what we DON’T see coming. Because if we don’t learn from our past and just continue to hit everything head on despite what we know to be true, we will continuously be knocked backwards. Over and over and over again. Until we’re so far back, we can’t find the way forward.

If you struggle with mental health, know this: There are no measures that are “too extreme”. None. Not really. Whatever you need to do to make forward momentum is what you need to do. Your mental health is important. REALLY important. And caring for it is necessary. REALLY necessary. Don’t let people who don’t understand try to convince you otherwise. Don’t believe them when they make you seem like you are being unreasonable.

If you don’t struggle with mental health, know this: Those measures you think might be a little “extreme”? They’re not. Not really. That person has been there. They’ve experienced hurt that you don’t understand and may never understand. They’ve experienced a hurt bad enough that they will take “extreme measures” to never go there again. They’ve learned. They’re trying to maintain forward momentum. And it’s not your place to tell them whether or not they’re doing it “right”. Not really.

We don’t expect everyone to understand. Not really. But we do expect that you acknowledge that we know what we’re doing. Why we’re doing it. We do expect you to respect us and our mental health enough to let us heal. On our terms.

Grief

               Grief is kind of an interesting thing. I’m not sure that I’ve ever experienced TRUE grief before now. And I’m honestly going back and forth between “30 is kind of old to be experiencing grief for the first time” and “I’m not very old to be experiencing grief”. Of course I know that your age has no influence on what you are “allowed” to feel, but I can only imagine that feelings like grief get worse and occur more often the older you get and as more people you know pass.

               When my grandpa died, I told my mom, “When grandma goes, you might as well dig a hole for me too.” And I meant it. I couldn’t picture myself in a world without her. I was close to her and was for pretty much my whole life. We had a special bond. Shared similar interests and I think I would have lived with her if I could have (I pretty much did during the summers). Her house was my favorite place to go, and the hardest place to leave. I’m pretty sure I cried the whole way home every time we left.

               I expected the day I found out about her passing to be the hardest day of my life. The one where I wouldn’t be able to pick myself up off the bathroom floor for at least a day. And then – who knows? But it wasn’t. Not really. The hardest day was the day that we were given the diagnosis and the timeline. When it came to my emotions, it was essentially the same as being told she had passed.

               The “upside” to knowing what’s coming – being given a timeline – is that it leaves no room for regret. You can plan for it. You can go visit. You can spent the time remaining making sure to do the things you want to do and say the things you want to say. For that, I will be forever grateful. I have no regrets.

               How things played out, though, directly affected the course of my grief. While I was (kind of) already grieving when we were given the news, I didn’t really have time to accept that grief. And to deal with it. I couldn’t let it overtake me because there was still time to be spent with her while she was living. I had to ignore my feelings and try – DESPERATELY try – to act like everything was normal and make the most of the time remaining.

               By the time the day rolled around that she had actually gone to be with Jesus, I’m not sure I even knew what it meant to grieve. In some ways I thought that I already had. Because I knew it was coming. Everything happened essentially as we were told it would and in the timeline they said it would. It wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t unexpected. It happened the way it was supposed to. So I thought that I was good. I made it through the funeral without many tears shed which is abnormal for me – I’m the type of person who could go to the funeral for a complete stranger and I would bawl my eyes out the whole time.

               It wasn’t until after the funeral, on the two hour drive home that it really hit me. Just like when I was a kid, I cried the whole way home leaving grandma’s house. Because I missed her. And the feeling was only intensified by the fact that I knew for absolute certain that there was never going to be another day on this earth that I would see her fact in person or hear her voice on anything but the voicemails I have saved in my phone – that I still can’t bring myself to ACTUALLY listen to.

               Grief is and interesting thing. It somehow convinces you, for a few days, that, “You’re okay!” “Everything is fine!” “You’ve accepted what’s happened and you’re moving on!” And then completely out of the blue, it smacks you hard across the face and says, “Just kidding! You’re not okay” “Everything is NOT fine.” And “You’re NOT moving on.” And “Now we’re going to cry hysterically on the bathroom floor for the rest of the night.” And that’s what you do. Until it convinces you, again, that you’re okay for a few days while it winds up to slap you again.

               I don’t think I ever expected to still be struggling SO MUCH with this a month a half later. I’m not sure why not. If I truly believed that I would be in a hole in the ground beside her by this point. Or if I believed that if I could survive the first week after and the funeral that I would just somehow move on as if nothing had happened. But here I am. On the floor in my bedroom, trying to see what I’m typing through tear-stained eyes and trying to keep my sobs to a minimum so my roommate doesn’t hear me upstairs and come down wondering what the heck is wrong with me.

               But I guess this is what grief is. Believing you’re okay for a few days until you’re reminded that you’re not. That a part of you left with the person you love. A part of you that you won’t get back until the day you reunite in Heaven. Trying to convince yourself that you’re going to be fine, when, frankly you’re really NOT fine, until…when? A year? Two? A whole lifetime? Do you ever become truly okay again? Do you ever actually stop grieving? Does anyone even know?

Not Easy

               “They” say that nothing in life worth having comes easy. Which, apparently is supposed to provide us with comfort, or something, while we struggle. It doesn’t though. Provide us comfort. Or at least it doesn’t for me.

               Honestly, I’ve been struggling lately. With life. With my future. With this journey I’m on.

               When I started with this journey of trying to take back my life. With trying to recreate who I am or maybe regress back to who I was 10 years ago, I certainly didn’t expect it to be easy. I didn’t expect it to be something that would happen overnight. It took 10 years for me to even notice that I had become someone different. I knew better than to expect it to happen right away.

               And changing yourself – intentionally changing yourself? It’s not easy. Trying to retrain your way of thinking. Unlearn learned behaviors. FORCE yourself out of your comfort zone over and over and over again? It’s not easy. It’s not “normal”. It’s a constant uphill battle. A constant struggle between your old self and your new self. But I KNEW that would be the case. I was ready for it. I know it would be worth the battle.

               But what I wasn’t really ready for? Getting to the root of why I change in the first place. Figuring out why my thinking is the way it is. Why I learned the behaviors that I now want to unlearn. It can be painful to explore these things. And like a scab, the more you pick at it, the more you keep bleeding until pretty soon, you’ve come to the realization that maybe it’s not just your brain that needs retraining, but maybe you need new skin too. Or else you have to figure out how to fit your scar ridden old skin into your new self without letting the constant visual reminder of your scars override your attempts at creating your new self.

               It had never occurred to me that this journey would lead me to having to reevaluate decisions of made in my life. To consider the possibility of having to make new major decisions and change things about my life that I had assumed would somehow just conform into the “new me” without issue.

               I’m not sure why this didn’t occur to me. I mean, it only makes sense, right? That the “new me” that I’m trying to get to might have to part ways with some of the decisions that “old me” made – life altering or not? Things that the previous version of myself was just fine with allowing to happen. Things that I used to just sit back and think ‘oh well’. Things that the newer version of me says ‘this is not okay’ or ‘this needs to change’.

               I wasn’t ready for that part of it, though. I’m still not sure I’m ready for that part. Sometimes I think I’m getting closer but then fear, anxiety, and the thought ‘what the h-e-double hockey sticks am I doing?’ comes for me and I just get stuck. And unfortunately, it’s not a very pleasant place to BE stuck. Staring at the things that are beating you down, kicking you while you’re down and then waiting for you to stand back up so they can do it again. But too paralyzed with fear and uncertainty and lack of confidence in what your brain – and heart – are telling you to actually DO something. To actually run. To actually change.

               Nothing in life worth having comes easy. It doesn’t make me feel the slightest bit better. About anything. But at least I know I’m on the right path. Because it certainly isn’t easy.

Heroes

               My best friend (fairly) recently adopted a new motto for her life. “Don’t be a hero.”

               She and I are a lot alike in that we try to be everything to everybody. We never say “no” to anything and we’re not very good at saying “no more” when something else gets piled on top of our already full plates. We just scoop other things to the side in order to make room. Or we try to find a bigger plate.

               You need something done? We’ll do it. Doesn’t really matter what it is. We’ll do it. So we can be everything to everybody. Is it some kind of complex that we both suffer from? I don’t know. Maybe. But what it really boils down to is that we just want to help. We want to make sure we’re doing our part when it comes to establishing who we are, we want to leave no stone unturned. So we do. And we do. everything. that’s asked of us. And when we’re done with that? We do more.

               We want to be everything to everybody. DO everything for everybody. Be the hero in every situation. The one that’s always there. Always willing. Always exceeding expectations. The hero of every story.

               It may not seem like a bad trait to have and if we’re being honest, I think it has gotten us both relatively far in our professional lives and social statuses. But I think we’re both discovering that it hasn’t been beneficial to our own personal lives. To our own well-being. We end up running ourselves ragged. Sacrificing our own satisfaction and happiness for the benefit of others. We pour everything we have into everybody else. Leave justenough for our family and close friends. And ourselves? Well, you can just forget about THAT completely.

               Hence her new motto of “don’t be a hero”. It’s essentially her way of taking her life back. To stop the continuous motion of trying to be everything to everybody. To DO everything for everybody. To stop sacrificing her own life to be someone else’s hero. And while I support her motto and agree with her logic behind it 100% and recognize the usefulness and applicability it has to my own life, I think it’s important to take it one step further. To be YOUR OWN hero.

               There have been a lot of instances in my life – especially recently – that I have done things solely because “no one else is going to want to do it.” No one else including me. But for whatever reason I feel some sort of obligation to be the one who takes the bullet. Always. The hero who saves everybody else from having to dodge the bullet. But the more I do it, the more I realize that I’m not bulletproof. And I CAN’T be the hero all. the. time. For everybody.

               Being the hero and taking the bullets often comes at a price. That price being my own happiness. My own sanity. My ability to fight for myself. And my ability to be the hero of my own story. And if we’re not our own heroes, then who are we? Because, let’s face it, there is not a single other human being on this planet who can be our hero. We are our own best advocates when it comes to anything in life. We know what we need. Mentally. Emotionally. What we need in order to be happy. To be the heroes in our own lives.

               Be your own hero. Fight for yourself. For your own dreams. For your own goals. For your own ambitions. And if you’ve got energy left over to devote to being other people’s hero, go for it. But always first for yourself first. Advocate for yourself first. Be. your own. hero. First. Always.

Tables or Fences

“When you have more than you need, build a longer table, not a higher fence.”

Not an original quote. There’s a good chance you’ve heard or read it before. Not really even a new concept – although one that CAN be difficult to remember to live by.

When we purchased our house 5 years ago, it was more than we needed. Still is. At 4300 square feet, with 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, 2 basements and a bonus space, we don’t even really use ½ of it. But, the price was right. It met a variety of criteria that we were looking for that we couldn’t really find in any other home – the extra space was kind of just a bonus. And, I figured, we would find some way to fill the space. Eventually. And hopefully not with just ‘stuff’.

My vision for how to fill the space (despite the obvious of just filling it with children) has changed numerous times over the past 5 years and likely will continue to change. My original dream (and quite a lofty one at that) was to use part of it as a bed & breakfast. How fun would that be?! That dream was fairly short lived when I considered all of the things to do around here and realize there was nothing and therefore, probably wouldn’t be much of a client base for a bed and breakfast.

My second, perhaps loftier, vision hinged on finding some way to get Scott McGillivray from HGTV’s “Income Property” to come help me convert part of my house into a rental space. Obviously, that was a no go too.

I’ve considered foreign exchange students or becoming a foster parent, but the thought of being responsible for other humans kind of terrifies me. I barely feel like an adult who can take care of myself – let alone someone else!

I’m not sure where my desire to do things like this came from. Perhaps my aunt who, I’m pretty sure, hasn’t gone longer than 6 months without and ‘extra’ in her house in probably the last 10 years. Or, maybe from the initial quote at the beginning of this post which has stuck in my mind since I first read it 3 years ago. Or, maybe it’s because I don’t have a lot of confidence in my ability to achieve my own goals and dreams but am all about finding any way to help others achieve theirs (that’s perhaps a topic for another blogpost, though). Or, maybe it’s a little of all three.

My most recent vision for our extra space – and my most achievable vision to date – is to open it up to other adults. People who can take care of themselves. I’ve made the offer to a handful of people – that we have space, they can live with us. Some were looking to move, but needed somewhere they could stay for a while. Some had found themselves roommateless and weren’t sure where that would leave them. Some were facing uncertain financial futures and weren’t sure how they would continue to pay rent. While I have made the offer to numerous people, none of them have taken me up on it. Until now. Within the next few days, one of Steve’s Marine Corps buddies, will be moving into one of our extra bedrooms and staying for an undetermined amount of time. Until he decides what he wants to do. Whether he wants the move here to be a permanent one. Ironically, he is the very first one we ever made this offer to – about 3 years ago. He had always said he was going to take us up on it, but I don’t think I ever believed it would really happen. So, we will be adding another chair to our table – for a while, anyway. And, honestly? I’m kind of excited about it.

But, can I just move on to the last part of that quote for a minute (I guess you can’t really stop me, can you?). I feel like it’s easy to know and understand what it means to build a longer table. To invite people. To open our homes – and our hearts – to those around us. But I feel like the fence thing can be easy to just push to the side. In today’s world, where there’s talk about walls separating countries, I think it’s easy to read that and only picture an actual physical fence.

Our property didn’t come with a fence. The only one we’ve installed is the underground one that keeps my dog in the yard (most of the time, anyway). And we have no intention of ever installing one. But yet, I find that I have to constantly remind myself to not build that higher fence.

When you have more than you need, as the quote says, you can easily fall into the trap of building a higher fence without even realizing you’re doing it. By buying the newest, flashiest vehicle. By buying new ‘toys’ (the expensive grown-up kind). By buying the newest gadgets. Or making everyone around your feel like they need to chase you. To climb your ‘fence’ that you keep adding onto and changing and upgrading and making bigger and better.

I’ve been there. The one trying to climb the fence. The one constantly trying to make sure my fence looks okay compared to my neighbor’s fence. The one trying to keep up with the ones who are trying to keep up with the Jones’. It’s exhausting. It’s discouraging. And it’s not where I want to be anymore. Because I realized that it only adds to the lineup. It makes me build my fence. And makes people around me want to try to climb my fence – want to make their fence look as nice as mine. People who also find it exhausting and discouraging. I’m trying desperately to break the cycle. Sometimes I fall off the wagon and try to start building my fence again, but then my neighbors with the higher fence remind me that that’s not who I want to be and I go back to trying to build my table instead.

Stop exhausting yourselves trying to build your fence and come sit at my table instead. I’d love to have to add another chair. Or another leaf. Or even a second table.

Independence

**The fact that this post comes on Independence Day was completely unintentional. When the need to write strikes, you kind of just have to go with it and sometimes it just 'works'.**

I’ve never been very good at the ‘independence’ thing. As, apparently, the child that requires the least assistance, my mother would probably argue differently. And in some respects, maybe that’s true. I’m a pretty independent learner and I’m pretty independent when it comes to work that needs to be done, but that’s about where it ends. When it comes to doing things…going places…living life, independence has never been my forte.

It makes sense, really. All throughout elementary and high school, I had my friends – band of misfits that we were. We did things together. We went places together. We did life together. By the summer after my junior year of high school, I had started dating the man I would eventually marry. And while he was gone for the better part of the next 5 years, I still had my college/work friends. We did things together. We went places together. We lived life together. And when I graduated college, I chased down my now-husband to live with. To do things together. To go places together. To just live life together. And it worked. Everywhere I had been for the past 22 years, I had someone beside me to do life with.

But somewhere along the way, I lost my ability to actually BE independent. To do things on my own. My friends now live in different towns. Or have adult responsibilities that make it difficult to make plans or do things. Go places. And my husband doesn’t always share the same interests as me. Want to do the same things. Or go the same places. Or live the same life.

So for the last 5 years of my life, I’ve found myself, more or less, waiting in limbo. Waiting for friends to come along who want to do things. Go places. Live life. And no one ever came. And when they didn’t, I would beg my husband to go. He would – most of the time – but not without grumbles and clearly not wanting to – which wasn’t really ideal and didn’t make said things enjoyable to me.

It wasn’t until the last year or so that I started noticing – REALLY noticing – strong, independent women in my life. Some are friends. Some are friends of friends. Some are people that I actually took notice of and admired when I was a child but it just never ‘clicked’ until now. But these women kept popping up in places. Doing things. Going places. Living life. And doing it ALONE. And you know what? Never once did I think, “That poor girl, having to do that alone.” The thought that I assumed for sure people would think about me if I did things by myself. No. I thought, “Good for her! For not letting anything stop her from doing things. Going places. Living life. Good. For. Her!”

I think it was the start of this year that I started to notice that it seemed like life was going on around me and I was just sitting here. Unhappy. Still waiting for someone to come along to do things with. To go places with. And I thought “What am I doing? Why am I just waiting for life to happen to me?”

And that’s when I decided. No more. No more waiting. Not more living in fear of being independent. No more wasting life.

So after surviving ta season, I started doing things. Going places. Living life. If someone wanted to come with me wherever I was going then that was great. But if no one wanted to go with me – no biggie. I’ll go anyway. By myself (or with my dog). Because I really wanted to go.

Honestly, the first few times of going by myself to wherever I was going, it was terrifying. It felt weird to not have someone with me. I ALWAYS had someone with me. But now? I love it. I crave it. I need it. The independence. The feeling of being able to do things on your own. The ability to live life on your own terms and do what you want to do, when you want to do it. It’s empowering to not have the fear of independence hanging over you but to embrace it. And roll with it. And see how far you can push your independence. Riding the high of empowerment into places you never thought you would end up by yourself. To see just where you end up and what you end up accomplishing.

Do the things. Go to the places. Live life. And if you can’t find someone to do it with you? Do them anyway. Go anyway. Live. Life. Anyway.