I can't sleep. So instead I will write a post. I saw the movie war room recently. It was an excellent movie about the power of prayer and the importance of regular communication with God. It was one of those movies where you laugh and you cry; sometimes within a matter of a few minutes.
The premise of the movie is that there's an older woman who takes a younger woman, with lukewarm face under her wing, and teaches her to trust completely in the power and providence of God through prayer.
As I left the movie I remember thinking, "I need a woman, a prayer warrior, like that in my life". Yet, in that same moment, one of the older ladies from my church commented to me, "we need to be there for others".
So, which is it? Is it that I need a prayer warrior take me under their wing or that I need to be a prayer warrior for someone else? I think the answer is both/and. I do not have a war room with scripture verses and prayers posted on the walls but I do have a deck. It is while sitting on that deck, in the darkness, that I have the most frank and honest conversations with God that I have ever had. It is also in those moments that I turn my troubles over to God and lift up those that to mind, asking for God's grace upon them. There are also times where the words will not come. So the prayer becomes asking God to no the words of my heart that I cannot speak.
Tonight was such a night. My anxiety has been unusually high over the last several days. Similar to how it was a few years ago. There are number of factors that could serve as the precipitant for this heightened anxiety. But, as I sat reciting scripture pertaining to needing not to worry and be anxious that's when it hit me.
Trust. I've been reading a lot about how one's attachment style can influence and be influenced by the relationship with God. While I have made a lot of progress in this area; there's still work to be done. Overall, I tend to border more now on secure with elements of ambivalent attachment. That ambivalence comes out more when under stress.
In the texts that I've read, the authors indicate that in order to develop a secure attachment from an ambivalent style one must assume the best; putting trust in the positive intentions of others. As opposed to jumping in the negative assumption that the relationship is a weak or crumbling. I was listening to a podcast this morning by Andy Stanley that touches on this notion that we all go through periods in life and in our faith where we feel that God is inattentive, uncooperative, or late. I seem to have particular difficulty with these periods given my history. So, as I sat out there in my "war room", I acknowledged that shortcoming. The one that still has difficulty fully embracing God's intention--like John the Baptist who questioned whether Jesus was the One, while he sat in his jail cell.
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Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Saturday, May 9, 2015
at the edge of the world
Whenever I am at the ocean, I always have a sense that I am at the edge of the world. That I am as close to God as I can be in this lifetime. So, it's fitting that this is where I am sitting as I type this.
I just spent the last two days at the NHPA conference at Hampton Beach. My first real venture into the world of a psychologist. I surprised myself, in someways by making the decision to participate--I put aside the thoughts that "I shouldn't be here--I'm just a MA level therapist/student" and was actually able to help one of the seasoned psychologists at my table better understand a concept.
Interestingly, in both sessions I attended, the discussion centered around helping patients sit w/distressing emotions and changing their relationship to those emotions.
Even though, I am have been doing this work with others for years--I still struggle with sitting w/my own distress. While I have made significant progress in this over the last few years as evidenced by reduction in GAD (OCD lite as was discussed today), less avoidance, fewer reassurance compulsions, and less frequent dissociation. I am still a work in progress.
I still have a tendency to numb unwanted or painful emotions, most notably through tattoos. If you ever were to ask me not "why that tattoo" but "what's going on/why now"? You'd get a very different response--assuming I felt safe enough in that moment to tell you. It isn't a coincidence that while each image signifies the promise of new life/rebirth, they have come following a major loss or transition that I was having a difficult time managing.
I've had the "itch" again more recently--we'll see if I do better this time.
Sent from my iPhone
I just spent the last two days at the NHPA conference at Hampton Beach. My first real venture into the world of a psychologist. I surprised myself, in someways by making the decision to participate--I put aside the thoughts that "I shouldn't be here--I'm just a MA level therapist/student" and was actually able to help one of the seasoned psychologists at my table better understand a concept.
Interestingly, in both sessions I attended, the discussion centered around helping patients sit w/distressing emotions and changing their relationship to those emotions.
Even though, I am have been doing this work with others for years--I still struggle with sitting w/my own distress. While I have made significant progress in this over the last few years as evidenced by reduction in GAD (OCD lite as was discussed today), less avoidance, fewer reassurance compulsions, and less frequent dissociation. I am still a work in progress.
I still have a tendency to numb unwanted or painful emotions, most notably through tattoos. If you ever were to ask me not "why that tattoo" but "what's going on/why now"? You'd get a very different response--assuming I felt safe enough in that moment to tell you. It isn't a coincidence that while each image signifies the promise of new life/rebirth, they have come following a major loss or transition that I was having a difficult time managing.
I've had the "itch" again more recently--we'll see if I do better this time.
Sent from my iPhone
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Loving the unloveable
I used to write poetry all the time. I sat down to write a few times today...but the words would not come.
Found myself in a conversation this morning about the challenges of Exodus 20:12, when the command is to love what seems unloveable. The scars I carry are not visible and they are continually reopened. There are times in which interactions are without conflict. And after a few of these, I even begin to develop a sense of hope, that perhaps things are changing.
And then the other shoe drops.
The harsh words and abuse begin again and I leave feeling broken, weak, and worthless--never enough. Even if not directed soley at me, those wounds tear open and I am 13 again, even for a moment.
But the truth is, I know that I am not the person that individual believes me to be. And in fact, those angry words are a reflection pain and not the Truth.
It was said last night, "I feel like I don't even have kids" and while it hurt, I understood the feeling. It is similar to one I've had for years...that I didn't have parents. And as I drove away, with the conversation swirling in my mind, the term orphan came to mind.
But, I am not an orphan. I have a family who loves me, to whom I am enough, just as I am. And I do have parents--who did the best they could in their brokenness.
In this discussion, it was suggested I check out askquestions.org. So, I asked the question "how to honor an abusive parent." I have included the link to the response here if others want to read it.
We are called to love the unloveable things that broken people do. And in that love for them, we shine light where there is darkness.
Found myself in a conversation this morning about the challenges of Exodus 20:12, when the command is to love what seems unloveable. The scars I carry are not visible and they are continually reopened. There are times in which interactions are without conflict. And after a few of these, I even begin to develop a sense of hope, that perhaps things are changing.
And then the other shoe drops.
The harsh words and abuse begin again and I leave feeling broken, weak, and worthless--never enough. Even if not directed soley at me, those wounds tear open and I am 13 again, even for a moment.
But the truth is, I know that I am not the person that individual believes me to be. And in fact, those angry words are a reflection pain and not the Truth.
It was said last night, "I feel like I don't even have kids" and while it hurt, I understood the feeling. It is similar to one I've had for years...that I didn't have parents. And as I drove away, with the conversation swirling in my mind, the term orphan came to mind.
But, I am not an orphan. I have a family who loves me, to whom I am enough, just as I am. And I do have parents--who did the best they could in their brokenness.
In this discussion, it was suggested I check out askquestions.org. So, I asked the question "how to honor an abusive parent." I have included the link to the response here if others want to read it.
We are called to love the unloveable things that broken people do. And in that love for them, we shine light where there is darkness.
Monday, December 29, 2014
port in the storm
I've had the content of this entry rolling around in my head for a while now. And before I begin, let me start out by saying that I have been watching WAY too may holiday movies on the Hallmark channel the past few days (read: overly emotional and sensitive).
I used to be a prolific writer--angst, angry, depressed. And now, I probably should write more than I do. Even as I sit here, I am staring at the screen--I can feel the block coming down on me--it actually happens frequently--posts, papers, even cards--the things swirling around that I would like to say, somehow get lost somewhere on their way onto the medium.
I've been thinking a lot about the ups and downs. Saturday, I sat with a friend I haven't seen in years by a quiet ocean inlet, as she told me about the ending of her relationship. A story, I must admit was hitting a little too close to home. My decision to take her there after we grabbed lunch was rather selfish. I needed the contrast of serenity before me to combat the storm brewing inside.
When I think about the "bad times" that come before us in life, I tend to visualize them like a hurricane. Capable of leveling everything in it's path with the ocean swells, yet still some of the buildings remain and we survive. When we are in the midst of a storm, it takes all we can to not get swept out to sea, as the waves crash down around us. We've boarded up the windows and secured what we could, and now all we can do is wait it out--to see what remains afterward. There are moments where the wind and rain let up just enough to allow us to run out and quickly check on the things we could not bring inside--to be sure they haven't blown away, and perhaps tie an extra rope around them or fill up another sandbag to keep them in place--because we will need them when it's over.
And sometimes, there are casualties from the storm. Relationships who's foundations were not as strong, and therfore were swept away by the rip tides. Others are damaged, but are not beyond repair. Either way, the landscape is forever changed.
I used to be a prolific writer--angst, angry, depressed. And now, I probably should write more than I do. Even as I sit here, I am staring at the screen--I can feel the block coming down on me--it actually happens frequently--posts, papers, even cards--the things swirling around that I would like to say, somehow get lost somewhere on their way onto the medium.
I've been thinking a lot about the ups and downs. Saturday, I sat with a friend I haven't seen in years by a quiet ocean inlet, as she told me about the ending of her relationship. A story, I must admit was hitting a little too close to home. My decision to take her there after we grabbed lunch was rather selfish. I needed the contrast of serenity before me to combat the storm brewing inside.
When I think about the "bad times" that come before us in life, I tend to visualize them like a hurricane. Capable of leveling everything in it's path with the ocean swells, yet still some of the buildings remain and we survive. When we are in the midst of a storm, it takes all we can to not get swept out to sea, as the waves crash down around us. We've boarded up the windows and secured what we could, and now all we can do is wait it out--to see what remains afterward. There are moments where the wind and rain let up just enough to allow us to run out and quickly check on the things we could not bring inside--to be sure they haven't blown away, and perhaps tie an extra rope around them or fill up another sandbag to keep them in place--because we will need them when it's over.
And sometimes, there are casualties from the storm. Relationships who's foundations were not as strong, and therfore were swept away by the rip tides. Others are damaged, but are not beyond repair. Either way, the landscape is forever changed.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Nearing the finish line (really, just the closest checkpoint)
I thought about titling this entry, "the devil made me do it". But decided that was a bit dramatic (because the title of my last post wasn't dramatic at all).
I still have quite a bit to do between now and the end of this semester--edit/revise a factitious report, tie up loose ends of a powerpoint, and two canvas posts (all by Thursday), then there is a final due Sunday, and another one due next week (and yes, this blog post is procrastination--or as I would prefer to call it, a break from all the homework I have already done this weekend). Then I can breathe a bit easier for a while. Granted, it will all get done--it always does. Fortunately, I have a full month off between semesters this time--unlike the two weeks between summer term and the fall semester. I am planning to use that time to tighten up my dissertation proposal and perhaps even read for pleasure (such a novel idea, I know).
I was sitting in Church today thinking about where my head has been over the last month or so--historically, I have a really rough week about half-way through the semester where my emotions get the better of me and I am ready to throw in the towel. This semester played out differently. This time, the badgering was less intense, but was instead more insidious.
In the back of the Sept-Nov issue of Our Daily Bread, there was a description of ways to know whether it was God or Satan whispering to you. God's words would be of encouragement, love, hope, and would be meant to build you up--ultimately to bring you closer to Him. Satan on the other hand, would speak of fear, doubt, shame, guilt--all those things that tear you down and weaken your relationship with God. As I sat on my bed reading it after Church today, I realized who's voice I'd been hearing more loudly over the last several weeks.
It was Satan who has been making it harder and harder to get out of bed (or to go to bed earlier), encouraging me to skip the gym, and blow off any efforts I had previously been making to improve my physical health. It has been his urgings that have caused me to miss Sunday school for the last few weeks and barely make it to Church on time (after debating whether I was even going to go). He has also reintroduced doubt in areas that I have worked hard over the last year to repair and heal.
God's voice has been there too--I suspect this is why it the negativity was less intense. I have been able to continue with bible study, devotionals, and regular attendance at services which has helped me to not entirely lose focus on Him. God was certainly speaking to me loudly in that moment, as I sat there with ODB in hand.
Needless to say, I changed my clothes and went to the gym--listening to praise music the whole time.
There is also another online bible study starting tomorrow. My plan is to be more intentional with it, focused--to actually write out the SOAPs instead of just the quick posts like I did the last time.
I am also thinking about the sermon from this morning, "In times of need" and it's application to my current situation. As Christians we are called to help others--that one I have down--but as the pastor discussed, we must also be willing to accept help from others, and remember that everyone has a part. When Satan's voice resonates in my head, I forget the last two--particularly as they relate to me. I find that I am less likely to ask for help and lose sight of what my part (contribution) is and therefore try to fix/take things into my own hands.
I am still very much a work in progress.
I still have quite a bit to do between now and the end of this semester--edit/revise a factitious report, tie up loose ends of a powerpoint, and two canvas posts (all by Thursday), then there is a final due Sunday, and another one due next week (and yes, this blog post is procrastination--or as I would prefer to call it, a break from all the homework I have already done this weekend). Then I can breathe a bit easier for a while. Granted, it will all get done--it always does. Fortunately, I have a full month off between semesters this time--unlike the two weeks between summer term and the fall semester. I am planning to use that time to tighten up my dissertation proposal and perhaps even read for pleasure (such a novel idea, I know).
I was sitting in Church today thinking about where my head has been over the last month or so--historically, I have a really rough week about half-way through the semester where my emotions get the better of me and I am ready to throw in the towel. This semester played out differently. This time, the badgering was less intense, but was instead more insidious.
In the back of the Sept-Nov issue of Our Daily Bread, there was a description of ways to know whether it was God or Satan whispering to you. God's words would be of encouragement, love, hope, and would be meant to build you up--ultimately to bring you closer to Him. Satan on the other hand, would speak of fear, doubt, shame, guilt--all those things that tear you down and weaken your relationship with God. As I sat on my bed reading it after Church today, I realized who's voice I'd been hearing more loudly over the last several weeks.
It was Satan who has been making it harder and harder to get out of bed (or to go to bed earlier), encouraging me to skip the gym, and blow off any efforts I had previously been making to improve my physical health. It has been his urgings that have caused me to miss Sunday school for the last few weeks and barely make it to Church on time (after debating whether I was even going to go). He has also reintroduced doubt in areas that I have worked hard over the last year to repair and heal.
God's voice has been there too--I suspect this is why it the negativity was less intense. I have been able to continue with bible study, devotionals, and regular attendance at services which has helped me to not entirely lose focus on Him. God was certainly speaking to me loudly in that moment, as I sat there with ODB in hand.
Needless to say, I changed my clothes and went to the gym--listening to praise music the whole time.
There is also another online bible study starting tomorrow. My plan is to be more intentional with it, focused--to actually write out the SOAPs instead of just the quick posts like I did the last time.
I am also thinking about the sermon from this morning, "In times of need" and it's application to my current situation. As Christians we are called to help others--that one I have down--but as the pastor discussed, we must also be willing to accept help from others, and remember that everyone has a part. When Satan's voice resonates in my head, I forget the last two--particularly as they relate to me. I find that I am less likely to ask for help and lose sight of what my part (contribution) is and therefore try to fix/take things into my own hands.
I am still very much a work in progress.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
drowning
It's been about six months since my last post. I have not been as consistent with this as I intended. I haven't quite decided what direction I would like this blog to take. So, for now it stays as it is.
I used to write all of the time when I was depressed or anxious. Fortunately, I am not nearly as anxious or depressed as I once was--but I still have episodes. This last few weeks or so has been one of those times. In this instances, more recently I find that I withdraw--my friends know I text a lot--lately I've sent few, if at all. I recognize the isolation is not effective--it's driving me further into my head.
Each morning I ask God to work through me to do His will. To be a light in the lives of those I work with. I also ask Him for the strength to make it through the day, to live as He has intended.
And each night, I thank Him for His presence in my life. For the gift of those who love me unconditionally and I ask Him to hold them in His hands. To bring them peace.
I never ask for peace for myself.
There are days, that between those prayers, I feel like I am drowning--like I am barely coming up for air and my skin is crawling all at once.
And I get frustrated, because comparatively my life is not so bad--good, in fact. And that makes it worse. Still broken.
Make me broken
So I can be healed
'Cause I'm so calloused
And now I can't feel
I want to run to You
With heart wide open
Make me broken
Make me empty
So I can be filled
'Cause I'm still holding
Onto my will
And I'm completed
When you are with me
Make me empty
[Chorus:]
'Til You are my one desire
'Til You are my one true love
'Til You are my breath, my everything
Lord, please keep making me
Make me lonely
So I can be Yours
'Til I want no one
More than You, Lord
'Cause in the darkness
I know You will hold me
Make me lonely
[Chorus]
'Til You are my one desire
'Til You are my one true love
'Til You are my breath, my everything
Lord, please keep making,
I know You'll keep making
Lord, please keep making me
I used to write all of the time when I was depressed or anxious. Fortunately, I am not nearly as anxious or depressed as I once was--but I still have episodes. This last few weeks or so has been one of those times. In this instances, more recently I find that I withdraw--my friends know I text a lot--lately I've sent few, if at all. I recognize the isolation is not effective--it's driving me further into my head.
Each morning I ask God to work through me to do His will. To be a light in the lives of those I work with. I also ask Him for the strength to make it through the day, to live as He has intended.
And each night, I thank Him for His presence in my life. For the gift of those who love me unconditionally and I ask Him to hold them in His hands. To bring them peace.
I never ask for peace for myself.
There are days, that between those prayers, I feel like I am drowning--like I am barely coming up for air and my skin is crawling all at once.
And I get frustrated, because comparatively my life is not so bad--good, in fact. And that makes it worse. Still broken.
Make me broken
So I can be healed
'Cause I'm so calloused
And now I can't feel
I want to run to You
With heart wide open
Make me broken
Make me empty
So I can be filled
'Cause I'm still holding
Onto my will
And I'm completed
When you are with me
Make me empty
[Chorus:]
'Til You are my one desire
'Til You are my one true love
'Til You are my breath, my everything
Lord, please keep making me
Make me lonely
So I can be Yours
'Til I want no one
More than You, Lord
'Cause in the darkness
I know You will hold me
Make me lonely
[Chorus]
'Til You are my one desire
'Til You are my one true love
'Til You are my breath, my everything
Lord, please keep making,
I know You'll keep making
Lord, please keep making me
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Long way home
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)
Has become one of my favorite bible verses--so much so, that it is inscribed on my thumb ring. I find myself looking at the text often, especially in times of frustration, sadness, worry, or fear--it reminds me that everything is as it should be according to His plan--which is not mine to understand. I spent a lot of time looking at it today.
Tomorrow marks two years that I ended a rather painful chapter of my life. One that had started five years earlier to the day. I was only 25 at the time and thought I knew everything.
Seven years later, I have come to realize that the path I was walking on was not the one that had been intended, but was then used to serve a purpose. His. It brought me full circle--back home to NH and ultimately back to faith--this time a deeper saving relationship. Granted...I took the LONG way home--but, I made it.
The scars of that journey (and those of earlier in life) are slowly fading. I have come to know Agape, both as a giver and receiver. And the relationships I have in my life are now built on that--unconditional and unending.
I am not the person I once was...I have become the new and improved version I was always afraid of being traded in for. Granted, I still have tough days--weeks, and I am far from perfect. But I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Has become one of my favorite bible verses--so much so, that it is inscribed on my thumb ring. I find myself looking at the text often, especially in times of frustration, sadness, worry, or fear--it reminds me that everything is as it should be according to His plan--which is not mine to understand. I spent a lot of time looking at it today.
Tomorrow marks two years that I ended a rather painful chapter of my life. One that had started five years earlier to the day. I was only 25 at the time and thought I knew everything.
Seven years later, I have come to realize that the path I was walking on was not the one that had been intended, but was then used to serve a purpose. His. It brought me full circle--back home to NH and ultimately back to faith--this time a deeper saving relationship. Granted...I took the LONG way home--but, I made it.
The scars of that journey (and those of earlier in life) are slowly fading. I have come to know Agape, both as a giver and receiver. And the relationships I have in my life are now built on that--unconditional and unending.
I am not the person I once was...I have become the new and improved version I was always afraid of being traded in for. Granted, I still have tough days--weeks, and I am far from perfect. But I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
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