Sinking Ships and Taking Care Of Myself... For Once

This isn't the most spiritual of posts, but whatever. It's my life and I'm going through a revival of sorts.

There is a point where you have to let go or you die; the point where if you bend any more, you'll break.

I finally hit the point where my extreme stubbornness bowed in order to stay alive.

It's strange. Nine days ago, I was crying on the phone to my best friend about feeling like there wasn't a drop of life left in me; there was nothing worth saving. I thought I was done then, but it only got worse. It took a couple of calls in the middle of the night and some intensely emotional writing for me to realize that this situation isn't ok.

4 a.m. writings --

A girl can only be dragged on a roller coaster so many times before she gets sick.
A girl can only survive getting punched in the gut so many times before it causes internal damage.
A girl can only bleed so much for another soul so much before it kills her.
I'm tired of feeling like I'm dead.
Rebuilding yourself is exhausting. It's worse when every time you start piecing together Legos as fragile legs under yourself so you can start standing again, someone comes along and kicks them out from underneath you.

That was when I made the decision to cut my best friend out of my life.

Why on earth would I distance myself from the one person who understands my quirks more than anyone, and actually enjoys them? The inconsistency is toxic. Over the past year, we've gone through more periods of not speaking for various reasons than I care to count. Every time we'd split, it tore me up. We'd try again and both feel better until being forced apart again. The hurt just kept getting deeper with each rip. They weren't clean and little pieces of the past caused issues to fester under the surface, and I'm sure there is more to it than I even realize. I can't keep walking into bear traps, knowing I'm going to lose a limb. I have to protect what little is left.

Two old friends reached out to me out of the blue that day and said the same thing. "You have to take care of yourself first." They pointed out that I can't really care for people when I'm empty. One of my teachers said that people coming against her only works when she's at a deficit internally. Just like it is easier to knock over an empty bottle instead of one filled with water, attacks do more damage when you are empty and weak. That's what made the separations hurt so much. I was empty of everything good, and didn't have the strength to see past the clutter of the now.

That's all changing.

I'm working to get back on the right track again. It's funny how fast it comes back. Peace and joy are increasing in me because I know this is the right thing to do. I'm reconnecting with God and with things I enjoy but didn't have time for. For the most part, I feel better. 

I have discovered one pesky issue through this whole thing. It was ok for them to block me repeatedly throughout the past year when they needed space, but when that I took control in the same way, they lashed out and said we are done for good. (Yes, I missed some paths. There are too many, nowadays.) It highlighted a pattern from our past: control. I could list several examples of times I thought we should or shouldn't do something and was met with resistance and caved. Some time later, we would change stances on the same issue and I would cave again. I totally understand the power struggle that was involved, but it doesn't make it less annoying now to realize I basically let a child control my life. I don't mean that negatively, because there is a bit of an age difference. That aspect showed in the temper tantrum that followed my decision. Of course, that sent me spiraling back into the mode trying to comfort and fix the situation. I felt manipulated, which only made me angrier. Our ship didn't just sink; it went down in flames.

Now don't get me wrong, I still care deeply about this person. I would do anything for them. I would give anything, including my life, to help them. I hope they understand that depth, even after everything. I loved spoiling them and taking care of them because of the big, dopey grins and high pitched squeaks following a surprise. Despite the very deep lows, many of my happiest moments from the year were when we were hanging out together. We didn't even have to do anything and I was content.

Therein lies the biggest problem. We didn't do anything.

For some reason I still don't understand, we stopped pushing each other to be better. Instead, we pulled laziness and rebellion out of each other. Church became rare. We worked, slept and watched tv together. People tried to tell us that we were heading toward destruction, but oh well, we were happy in our bubble doing what we wanted. Losing opportunities sucked, but that didn't even really force a change. Things were comfortable between us, so why bother adjusting? We both had traumas from our past that we hadn't dealt with. I wanted to help, but how could I drag someone through the mud when I was stuck too? There were cracks in our foundation and it was only a matter of time before we crumbled. It could've been something great, but we were dumb.

I'm not going to take their route and smash the whole institution. There was a lot of really great things that happened because of our connection. I learned more about myself and a deeper meaning of loving another person. I grew let down walls I didn't know I had. I softened, and I'm trying to not let that slip back into hardness. I believe they grew too, and hope they can still see there was a value and purpose for this year. 

I honestly do miss who we were in the beginning, though. I got a glimpse of that person nine days ago. When I was crying about how worthless I felt, they threatened to "bop" me on the head to get me to think straight and tried to convince me of my worth. That was before the falling out, so maybe that isn't the case anymore. 

Either way, I still see the good in them. I can't help it come to the surface or take away the pain that's burying it, but I know that good is there. More than anything, I hope they find peace with the past and joy in the future. There are still moments I have to fight not to run back and try to repair things for them, but I can't. I have to take care of myself before there is nothing left. I'm of no use when I'm that empty, and I don't ever want to get to this point again.

It's time to begin again.

"Another day, another worry breaks right through

And indecision bleeds me dry

She's painting pictures I'm not making for her

And she's got a vision without me in mind

I can't believe you."

   - "Hands on Deck" by Waking Ashland

Worship Through The Pain; God Is Still There Through The Hardest Moments

I've been procrastinating this post long enough. I keep saying I'll write it after I do my homework, but that isn't going anywhere this week, so here goes.

September was a really rough month for me, and I'm incredibly glad it's over.

It all started the morning of the first when a very important relationship in my life blew up in spectacularly dramatic fashion. Break-ups are hard enough, but the way it crumbled around me left me crushed and isolated. If it would have ended that day, maybe the month would have felt differently, but that's not how life goes. Every time I thought the situation was improving, there was a sudden twist back to Suckytown waiting at the next step. One of those rocked my world with pain that eclipsed the initial heartbreak, but I never really mentioned it to others outside the situation. That's all I'll say about that, so, moving on!

Toward the end of the month, my Grandpa passed away. My dad left a message on Facebook to call him after I was done with wedding rehearsals. After a couple rounds of phone tag, I finally got a hold of him for the update. He put me on speakerphone and I got to tell Grandpa I loved him one last time. I asked him to hold on for nine more days for my previously planned surprise visit, but he was gone within five minutes of the call ending. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much that night.

By that point, I was just ready for this train wreck of a month to end. With two days left in September, Pastor Eric Thomasson preached something during chapel that I needed to hear. He said, "Worship through the pain. Sing with a little anger." He talked about how just because we don't feel like doing something for God, doesn't mean we get to give him less than our best. "You don't do it because you feel like it, guys. You do it because it's right," Eric said. "God gets the most glory out of people who don't feel adequate to do what God has called them to do, but do it anyway." Pastor Eric went on to talk about not letting seasons in life dictate who God is and using whatever pain we are struggling with as ammunition through the darkness straight to the heart of God. (See, I was paying attention despite my phone going off! Ha!) Not only was I paying attention then, but I though about the concept all week.

Friday rolled around and I went to church as usual. Right before service, I was informed that my attempt at being nice was twisted, and I about lost my cool. As my eyes welled up, the woman told me not to let it ruin my night. Pastor Eric's words came back to my mind. "Sing with a little anger." In that moment, I had more than a little fuel and I fully intended to use it.

So that's what I did, and dang, did it ever work. It took a couple minutes and a lot of focus, but worshiping THROUGH the pain broke off that anger. Maybe we shook it off with our awkward jumping trio, but I found myself smiling and laughing again without forcing it.

During worship, Pastor Eric said, "Don't fear this new season. The new season will bring a brighter day." He kept trying to talk, but the world's worst feedback took over. The devil really didn't want that message sinking in, but I grabbed on to it.

Then later, Pastor James had one woman go to the front because how she was worshiping after everything she's been through in life took his breath away. Before he even finished saying what he was going to have her do, Esther pushed me and said "go." I didn't move. Pastor James said he wanted her to pray for women who were going through a tough time. Esther shoved me again, but that time I went forward. Lots of tears later, the woman next to me grabbed my knee and squeezed. I have never talked to this woman, but I wrapped an arm around her and we just sat there, soaking in the strength in that moment.

Pastor James talked about how storms reveal our foundation, but there will always be a morning. "It's in knowing God that we will be able to stand through any storm." So, I decided then, this seemingly never-ending storm sucks, but it's not going to ruin what's ahead for me.

All of this drama and loss distracted me from all the good that's been happening around me throughout the month. I started a promotion at my primary job, and have had a complete blast with it. My schedule changed to a four day work week, which is pretty fantastic. I got a raise at my part time job. I jumped back into WRSM. I got to stand next to a friend of 17 years as she started a new chapter in her life with the most fun wedding I've ever been to. I spent time catching up with old friends and made fantastic new ones. I went camping, fed bison, and moved a massive tree branch on my own.

Even with my grandpa's death, there is good. He isn't in pain anymore. I'm pretty lucky that I made it to 26 years old before I lost the first grandparent. I already had a trip home planned, but he gave me more time with family. (Granted, being in the house without him is strange as all get out!) Heather messaged me out of the blue and said, "Your grandpa now watches you from above and is encouraging you with his love." I think that's pretty true considering how proud he looked when he found out I was in ministry school during my last visit.

There was so much good in this month, but I let the bad overpower the positive. The biggest positive of all is that I'm still standing. September wasn't just hard on me. There were a lot of people going through major trials at the same time, and we are all still standing because of how we handled the problem and where we placed our faith.

I didn't want to leave service that Friday night, but before I ran off to work, I hugged Dean'na. After a moment, she said, "You aren't leaving. You have too much to do here." I already gained so much peace and freedom throughout the service, but she just added on to it. I may not know exactly what role lies ahead, but I am certainly not going to let jerkwads and drama keep me from it. I'm not going to let anger and bitterness toward them block me out of God's next move, so I pray for them and for the strength to not go back to that place of darkness.

Like Pastor Eric said in chapel, "If you aren't satisfied, you are in a good place. Satisfaction leads to complacency." I'm not satisfied with where I am, but I'm also not going to let the storm steal the joy and goodness of God that is surrounding me on this journey.

I think we both knew that my visit in January would be the last time we saw each other. He wasn't expected to live long enough for me to get there then, but I got to pray for him and he lasted another 8 months. When I told him it was time for me to go, he grabbed onto me with both hands. They said he cried once I left, and so did I.
I missed seeing him again this time by 9 days. 
Lyle Carr was quite the character and an amazing man. I'm so blessed to call him my family. We miss you so much, Grandpa! 

11/1/26 - 9/25/15

Removing branches of fruitless relationships from life, no matter how painful and challenging

I haven't felt like I've had anything worthwhile to say lately. It's just one of the fruits that shriveled up over this summer. The seasons are changing in so many ways, and I simply must share. Trust me, this all weaves together.

About a month ago, I went back to where I grew up for a wedding. My date and I planned to camp out in the backyard of the now vacant home I once lived in. Since it's been empty for more than a year, there were plants blocking the stairs to the deck and we didn't feel like risking poison ivy in the dark.

Instead, we sat and enjoyed the clear view of the stars and start of the Perseid meteor shower for a while, then got a hotel in town. It turned out to be a good thing because a pretty strong storm rolled through that night.

I didn't realize how lucky we were until yesterday, when I stopped by and saw branches down all over the place. The biggest one would have landed on my car had we stayed.

I blew it off as "nothing I can do now" and carried on with the evening's plans.

Those plans happened to be the most tame bachelorette party ever, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

The week before was incredibly difficult. I was coming off a profoundly painful end to a cherished relationship, but I was bound and determined to not be a Debbie downer at this party.

The bride and I have known each other about 17 years now. We grew up about a mile apart, which was the one end of our tiny town to the other and went to college together, also pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Camping on her family's ranch was a no-brainer for the party.

Several times throughout the night, I'd glance up at the sky. It was a crystal clear night, so we could see the Milky Way, some meteors bringing up the rear of the Perseid shower, and thousands of stars. It was astoundingly beautiful. When I was a kid and had something on my mind, I'd sneak out of the house in the middle of the night. I'd sit on the front porch, stare at Orion and send my stress to the stars. I felt like this party was the same thing. Not only was I sending all the stress and hurt to the sky, it was flying away with meteors as I made wishes for this new chapter of life. It was so therapeutic and relaxing, I was able to double my sleep for the week in just one night.

This morning, I wanted to stall in town to visit the pizza shop, so I decided I'd earn some brownie points with the parents and try to clear up some of the branches. I definitely did not think this job through, but God sent me there for another reason.

The broken, dead branch was about 10-12 feet long, and about a foot in diameter at the base. Needless to say, it weighed a lot. It was caught on a lower-hanging branch and would not budge. The next 20 minutes was full of pushing, pulling, jumping, falling down, general frustration, and momentarily giving up several times. I thought to myself, "I have nothing but my body and pure, stubborn determination. I am going to get this thing cleared out of the front yard if it's the last thing I do."

Epiphany moment: that's the attitude I needed to have with the relationship.

While part of me stubbornly wanted to fix things, I was still aware that it was fruitless, broken and dead. , Unfortunately, you can't fix dead or put splinters back together.

Moving the massive branch required a lot of work and pain, but eventually, I got it loose and realized how big it really was. I almost quit again just looking at it. But then, there was this quiet little voice that said, "One piece at a time. One step at a time."  It wasn't remotely easy to do. The sharp splinters slashed my legs open. My sweat mixed with the scratches and stung, but I kept going. As I broke off smaller branches, the burden of the trunk became light enough that I could drag it.

When I got to the gate, I had to break off even more, narrowing the trunk down so it could fit through. In that moment, I found myself thinking about how nice it would be to have tools instead of just my bare hands. That voice popped up again, saying, "You have the tools to remove the dead relationship." Boom. I remembered Mary saying that when things get tough, dig in with your "kitty cat claws and don't let go." That's what I did. It was exhausting and painful, but I dragged the trunk up the slight hill and got it into the pile.

Mission accomplished.

I went back to the front yard to attack the bottom branch and realized it is still in tact. It bent from the weight of the dead piece, but did not break.

Voice: "You are that branch."

A few quotes came to mind right about then.
   1. A line from a P!nk song: "You're not broken just bent/And we can learn to love again." (Cheesy, I know.)
   2. John 15:2: "He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more."
   3. A message Autumn sent me about the situation: "I know you can live up to your calling and make Jesus proud of your strength, resilience, grace and life of honor and purpose. Stop living below your calling! You've got stuff to do that doesn't involve this silliness. Rise up, stand up and live for the one who gave everything for you."

The cuts will heal. The stinging will stop. Strength will replace the droopiness of exhaustion.

The living branch will still be there. With the dead weight pruned away, it will grow up toward the sun again. It will be fruitful.

Cementing this point, "Stronger" by Mandisa came on the radio as I started driving back home.

I'm getting back on track. This is going to make me stronger.