Vulnerability and Records

"You cannot selectively numb emotion.  When we numb the dark emotion, when we numb vulnerability and fear, we by default, numb joy." -- Brene Brown

I recently had conflict with my baby daddy and his woman.  I was so frustrated and angry, I cried...the ugly kind of crying. I had a complete meltdown while driving on River Road.  I'm sure my ugly crying got some curious looks.  Homegirl did not care.  I had some crying to do and my car has always been there for me in these times of need.  So stare on, friends.  I was talking to my close friend in the midst of my ugly crying episode.  She unpacked the pain of what I was feeling with me.  And after lots of blubbering and snot, I found that underneath the anger and frustration was the familiar feelings of dismissal and insignificance.

I'm not sure when I started playing that record to myself, but somewhere along the way it began.  And we became good friends.  It was my most favorite record to play.

I felt dismissed every time I had an event and no one showed up for me.  I felt dismissed every time I cried and no one validated my tears.  I felt dismissed every time I got angry and had no one to be angry with me.  I felt dismissed when I tried to communicate with my husbands and got nothing but blank stares and occasionally laughter at my tears.  I felt dismissed when I tried to connect with my step daughter and was met with anger and silence.  I tried to change the story with behaviors.  I became a boss to multiple employees so someone had to listen to me.  I became an avid runner, running ten miles a day at times, though I hated every mile after mile 3.   My behaviors were all intended to numb me the hell out.  There are multiple ways in which to numb.  All equally effective.  Alcohol, sex, medications, drugs, exercise, staying extremely busy...pick your poison and welcome to the Land of NUMB.

Over the past few months, I have been intentionally interrupting behaviors that cause me to numb out.  It has not been fun, friends.  Ugly crying has ensued.  Years of pain finally caught up with me.  Pain can outrun the fastest runner.  It eventually catches your ass.  And after it caught me, we wrestled.  And I learned the vast importance of knowing the truth about who I am.

Homegirl won that wrestling match.

The truth is that I am worthy.  My worth does not depend on anyone's validation but the One who created me.  I am loved.  I am not alone.  I have an infinite capacity for joy because my Creator is Himself joy.  I have the infinite capacity for gratitude because He Himself is gratitude.  I have the infinite capacity to love others even when they don't reciprocate because He Himself is unreciprocated love.  That's His jam.

I have the infinite capacity to be completely vulnerable because the net beneath me is solid.  And catching me is something He will never tire of.

Vulnerability is not a fun practice.  It demands honesty.  It demands courage.  It demands your whole self, exposed, raw, open to any and all manner of torment.  It leaves you wide open to the elements.  But it also opens up the chambers of your heart to experience raw, unadulterated joy.

I was wholly vulnerable with my friend in the midst of my breakdown.  She met me where I was.  She accepted me for who I was.  She provided me with a safe place for my vulnerability.  She was able to look at me with complete love and acceptance even when I was ugly crying, complete with snot and tears and red splotches.  Without that raw vulnerability that she met so beautifully with love and acceptance, I would not have been able to identify the NEED I was seeking.

I NEEDED to be heard.  I NEEDED my opinion on the subject to be considered.  I NEEDED to speak for my boys as their mother.  I NEEDED their dad and his girlfriend to ask me for advice.  I NEEDED them to tell me I was worthy enough to be heard because I was a great mother. 

Pause for dramatic effect.  Homegirl needed two people who quite possibly hate her more than anyone on the planet to validate her.

Now that I'm in this space of living life without my behaviors that numb me, vulnerability is the gig.  Without my friend who was on the phone with me and who allowed me to wallow in vulnerability,  I would not have been able to understand why I had such an intense reaction.  (Side Note: I hope you have a friend like this...if not, I may be able to put my friend on retainer for you.  She's pretty great at embracing ugly crying homegirls.)   I would not have been able to identify that I was feeling dismissed and unheard.   I would not have been able to see this most favorite record that had been playing all my life.  I would not have been able to identify a false belief that I had about myself and replace it with Truth.

I may have numbed myself for years from feeling fear and pain, but this numbing of the hard emotions also numbed the joy that could have been.  And I'm done missing out on joy.

So vulnerability it is.  In all its scariness and ominousness.  Without it I would not have been able to uncover the lies and replace them with truth.   And finally take the needle off the damn record.


The Price of Invulnerability by Brene Brown

Not your Typical Rebekah

It's Christmas Day and I woke up alone.  I laid in bed for five minutes and contemplated what I would do with this day usually spent with family and loved ones.  I tried to muster up sadness over the situation, but all my emotions could return to me were feelings of gratitude and peace in the solitude.

This is the first Christmas my parents do not live near me.  This is the first Christmas I'm settled in a new home.  This is the first Christmas I have Sadie.  This is the first Christmas I am a fully present mother.

And this is the first Christmas after my divorce that I feel whole in my singleness.

My boys and I did our Christmas with Santa's arrival on Christmas Eve because it is their dad's year to have them on Christmas morning.  We could not have had a better day.  We played all the games they got from Santa.  We ate dips, sweets, and all things junk.  We went on multiple walks.  We went to the park with Sadie.  We watched Christmas movies.  We painted with their new paint sets.  My phone was never close by.  My presence was focused on them.  We had invites to do other things, but we were having too much fun as our little family to venture out and see others.  We were content in our threesome.

When they left that afternoon, I had plans to drink too much and watch Netflix because I was certain I would be sad.  Instead, I cleaned my house top to bottom and went to bed sober at 10 p.m. after reading.  I kept waiting for the sadness to hit me...but nothing, Jesus.  It never arrived.

One of my friends said to me in response to me telling him I was alone on Christmas that the man I was currently dating would not let me be alone for Christmas.  I chewed on that for a bit, then decided he was wrong.  I didn't know my current romantic interest well enough to spend Christmas with him.  I didn't want to spend Christmas with him.  I wanted to be with someone who knew me well and loved me...not someone I was getting to know romantically.

Pause for dramatic effect because this is NOT a typical Rebekah response.

Typically, Rebekah would be upset that the man I was currently spending time with had not made plans with me for Christmas after discovering I was alone.  The typical Rebekah would be waiting by her phone for an invitation.  The typical Rebekah would have found reason to feel shunned and rejected.  The Typical Rebekah would have drank too much and cried herself to sleep because her life is meaningless without a man.

Thank God I'm not the Typical Rebekah any longer.

I did not get him a present and hoped to God he didn't buy me one.  I did not wait for an invitation because I didn't want one.  I didn't feel slighted or rejected.  I had too much to do to waste emotion.  I had two little boys who wanted their momma for Christmas.  That's all.  And this momma was not going to be pulled in a direction that was not towards her kids.  This momma knows better than to seek happiness in a man.  This momma knows that happiness is achieved only within.

I have been walking through a new dating relationship with a friend and am appalled at myself for the advice I'm giving her.  It's the advice I got from healthy and happily single women.  I didn't understand how they could be so strong when they delivered such sound advice.  I didn't understand how they had no emotion over the potential of being alone.  It felt like they had discovered the shut off valve for vulnerability and weakness and desperation. I wanted badly to have also found it, but it always alluded me.

Change sneaks up on you.  It comes in small decisions.  You don't realize it's happened until you are surprised by the emotional response you have to a stimulus.  Our emotions do not lie.  They are the genuine core of who we are.  We can fool ourselves in all manner of foolishness, but we will never fool our emotions.

And my emotions about spending Christmas alone are simply gratitude and peace.  Thank you, Jesus, for change.

Exposed Bum and Floppy Pant Leg

"The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things."  -- R.M. Rilke

Being a mom is like putting one leg in your jeans and letting the other one just flap around all day...exposing your bum and choice of undergarments in all your glory.  You're almost there...but not quite.  You made an attempt.  A thumbs up emoji is appropriate.  Or the drunk one.

My boys experienced something that was upsetting to them.  Brady was holding the information close because it involved people he loved and told me it wasn't my business to know.

"I'm your mother.  Everything about you is my business."  I responded with emphasis.

He didn't want to tell me because he didn't want me to be angry.  He's a protector and very loyal.

"What would happen if I did get angry?  What does that look like to you?"  I asked.

"I don't know, momma.  I just don't want to you to be angry at them."

We talked through the event eventually that he was reluctant to share.  And I wasn't angry.  I was sad.  I held his hand and told him I was sorry he had to go through that.  He gave me a weak smile in the midst of his sadness.

Putting your children through a divorce is one of the hardest things to do.  It requires constant affirmation that you did indeed make the right choice.  It requires an extra amount of patience for yourself and for others. 

It requires your pant leg and an exposed bum.

The effects are inexhaustible. 

Before I was a mom, I was a step mom.  I had a lot of difficulty with that role.  I wanted so badly to be involved in my step-daughter's life and did so recklessly and without boundaries.  I had an extremely volatile relationship with her mom because of my ignorance about the importance of boundaries.  And I had a great amount of ignorance about the effects of the lack of control over what happens to the most important person in your life when you're a mom...your child.

Allowing your children to flourish in an environment that doesn't involve you is incredibly difficult.  My heart still aches when I watch them walk into school, leaving me behind.  Sending them to another home where they are having experiences that you don't even know about is another level of pain...it's more than an exposed bum/leg combo.  It's a damn completely-nude-in-the-snow kind of vulnerability.  It's unnatural and if you aren't careful, you will lose limbs to frost bite.  Not to mention the unmentionables.

It means allowing them to love people you haven't gotten to vet.  It means encouraging them to bond with others who are strangers to you.  It means sacrificing your own selfish and suffocating love that often comes with motherhood for the sake of your children's hearts.  It means staying uncomfortable.

The beauty of this unknown equation (aka my children living in a different home) is that they are experiencing things that will require them to rise out of adversity and pain.  It means that I am given the incredibly difficult task of letting go and letting God.  It means that my trust cannot be in people or myself if I want to stay sane ... it has to be in the God who loves my boys more than I ever could.  It means that I have to learn to be ok living with an exposed bum while my pant leg flops around nonchalantly.  And occasionally be butt naked in the snow.

"In Over My Head"

https://youtu.be/6mAvt3CxEQM

I have come to this place in my life

I'm full but I've not satisfied

This longing to have more of You

And I can feel it my heart is convinced

I'm thirsty my soul can't be quenched

You already know this but still

Come and do whatever You want to

I'm standing knee deep but I'm out where I've never been

And I feel You coming and I hear Your voice on the wind

Would You come and tear down the boxes that I have tried to put You in

Let love come teach me who You are again

Would You take me back to the place where my heart was only about You

And all I wanted was just to be with You

Come and do whatever You want to

And further and further my heart moves away from the shore

Whatever it looks like, whatever may come I am Yours

And further and further my heart moves away from the shore

Whatever it looks like, whatever may come I am Yours

Then You crash over me and I've lost control but I'm free

I'm going under, I'm in over my head

Then you crash over me, and that's where You want me to be

I'm going under, I'm in over my head

Whether I sink, whether I swim

It makes no difference when I'm beautifully in over my head

Whether I sink, whether I swim

It makes no difference when I'm beautifully in over my head

I'm beautifully in over my head

I'm beautifully in over my head

Naughty and Worried MOMMA

The kids and I have a "Naughty and Nice" list.  For every good deed they do, their action goes on the "nice" side ... and likewise for the "naughty."  I am on the list.  But just on the naughty side for yelling.  Big sigh.

Since Graham's accident, I have largely felt lost in motherhood.  I'm not entirely sure I ever completely trusted my abilities to be a mom.  I questioned my approaches.  I tempered my expectations.  I allowed others dictate how I raised them by involving them in a great number of decisions.  I doubted myself even before the great fall in the bucket.  After his accident, my confidence in that area plummeted to greater depths.

Years of trauma therapy helped me to regain my confidence.  I had to imagine Jesus telling me in the moment when my baby was dead that I was loved and I was a great mother.  I didn't speak it over myself in that moment...nor did anyone else.  So Jesus had to do it after the fact.  He healed my broken heart and I became an even stronger mother than previous to the accident.

But it is still my most insecure area.  I soar with confidence and drive the week they are with their dad.  I feel like I have a handle on my life and I'm actually doing a good job of juggling everything alone.  Even though I miss them almost unbearably at times.  And then...

Enter kids....

The Monday I have them back is glorious.  I hug them tightly and can't stop staring at them.  I don't want to miss a thing.

And then they misbehave like kids do or make a mess like kids do and the beautiful reunion is shattered.  Insert chuckle.

I'm forced to decide on Monday whether I will react like a lunatic or like a pleasant Mary Poppins.  The lunatic usually wins...but there are cameos of Mary sprinkled throughout.

By Tuesday, Mary is on stage more than the lunatic.  I have regained my footing as a mom and my brain remembers how to respond to kid-related stress.

But I'm still a bit raw the week I have them...worry and stress and insecurities are more prevalent than when I don't have them. But the insecurities and worry over my kids aren't restricted to just the weeks I have them...it's an ever present companion in my life.

A guy commented the other day that his biggest pet peeve about parents is when they're on their phone while their kids play at the park.  I could see his point.  But I had "guilty" written all over my body and the emoji of the girl with her hand raised popped into my brain.  I'm that parent. 

I feel relieved when we go to a park and my kids are playing with other kids and they're contained and happily releasing inside energy that does no favors for my white couch.  I feel like I get a tiny break from responsibility.  I feel like my life just got made and I can breathe with untethered breath.  I feel no need to play with them.  I don't always get on my phone.  In fact, I mostly leave it in my pocket.  But I bring a book to read.  Or I just sit and watch them quietly.  Whatever I choose to do in that moment is a gift because my kids do not need me...for one small glimpse of our day.

I don't believe that men feel the same heaviness that mothers do.  I think they compartmentalize so well that they are able to be present in the moment without the weight of parenting squarely on their shoulders.  I believe they are able to function well at work 100%.  I believe they do a better job of divorcing themselves from their parenting responsibilities and the burdens that come with it than women do.

Women incessantly worry.  We can be in the biggest work meeting of our life, conducting the damn meeting, kicking serious butt, and our minds are still obsessing over what to make for dinner for our kids.  We can be on a date and laughing ... and the parent-teacher conference we just had is playing in the background.  We can be getting a massage, pedicure, manicure, exercising, eating, sleeping, showering, shopping, running errands, having drinks with friends ... and our children are with us...asking us to get them milk while we take a stab at relaxation.  Insert another chuckle because moms know relaxation is a mythical creature.  Like a freakin' unicorn.

My single girlfriend who is a mother and a very successful woman told me that she hated to admit it, but she would hire a man any day over a woman with kids.

We both sighed heavily at this revelation.

Good or bad, we are first and foremost mothers.  I've said it before and here it is again...dating without the presence of my children is a feeble attempt to get to know me.  Because they ARE me.  They are my motivation behind everything I do.  They fill my brain with happiness and worry simultaneously.  I've dated a man on and off for over a year and he has not met my children.  Our relationship will never progress because who I really am has been cut off from him.  He gets only a piece of me...and that piece is sub-par to the motherhood piece.  The men that have met my kids are the ones I am closest to.  They understand my role as a mom.  They know what they are competing against...and that they will likely lose because neither they nor I care enough to overcome this great obstacle of blending our lives.  Not many have the stamina to date a mother.  And mothers don't have patience for someone who doesn't care about their main priority.  (Having said that, you have to stick around a while to meet my kids ... or just be my friend and abandon dating.  Male friends are allowed.  Boyfriends have to serve their time.)

I am appalled at the number of men on dating apps that simply leave out the fact that they have kids.  A microscopic part of me gets it...it's unnatural to date as a parent.  So sometimes it's easier to avoid the anarchy of parenting that is you when dating.  But I do believe that men are not first and foremost dads...as mothers are first and foremost mothers.  Who men are as parents are largely driven by their motivation behind their role...their role as providers.  Mothers are driven by their role...we are mothers.  It is our identity, largely.

Whether we are naturally this way or society has encouraged this in us is a mystery.  But I tend to believe that God in His infinite wisdom gave women the innate consummation to live and breathe with her children.  This is why we are better at multi-tasking, I suppose.  (We have to be multi-taskers if we want to clean up vomit and do it while looking good.)

And why we are not the first choice as employees.

So though it may take me a while to adjust to immediate kid-related stress as Mary Poppins and get to add my name to the "nice" list, or the lunatic who yells on the "naughty" side...sigh..., after getting my kids back, I never have to settle into my role as a mom.  I am MOMMA.  Whether they are asleep in their beds at my house or not. 

So if I need peace for ten minutes while my kids happily play on the playground, you're damn skippy I'm jumping on that. 

And will worry incessantly about whether they will hurt themselves as I pretend to read a book. 

Move Over, Cinderella

"To say "I love you" one must know first how to say the word "I"."

-Ayn Rand, "The Fountainhead"

I first heard the word "Enneagram" from my sister in law Sally.  We were talking about life and changes and she asked if I had heard of it.  I had not, so we went into a full discussion about the personality typing diagram.  I was intrigued.

Then a few days later my dear friend Erin mentioned it.  I didn't need anymore prompting.  I was supposed to explore this.

I ordered the book recommended for discovering the Enneagram and your own type, "The Road Back to You."  It came a few days before my beach trip.  I was excited to dig into the book on a beach with a beverage.

And dig I did.  With a tasty beverage.

I am a self-growth junkie.  I can't get enough of psychology and literature and studies that will teach me more about myself.  However, I shy very far away from anything that is overtly "Christian" in its context.  I find it often lacks intelligence and dismisses hundreds of years of study on the subject of self simply because the authors of such discoveries were "secular".  And "good Christians" aren't selfish and have no use for the secular.

Big sigh.  HUGE freakin' sigh.

This book, however, was different.  Though the foundation to knowing yourself is wrapped up in your Creator, the journey is a task in SELF discovery...and with or without the knowledge of God, the journey is essential.

"Without knowledge of self there is no knowledge of God." -- John Calvin

After a few failed attempts to figure out my type based on some mediocre online tests, I discovered it as I read the book.  And it is indeed a road back to myself.

Ayn Rand is one of my favorite authors.  I devoured her books in college.  I listened to lectures on her.  I read biographies on her.  She made total sense to me.  I also love anything justice related.  Law and Order is one of my favorite shows.  Movies where the bad guys get what they deserve are my favorite.  Books that are direct in their story telling are what entertain me most.  I don't have a lot of patience for detail and chasing white rabbits.  I just want to get to it, Linda.  For the love of all that is holy....talk to me.  I'm aging over here.

I'm a Type 8 Wing 7 ... A Challenger/Enthusiast.  

I'm a truth teller and a truth seeker.  I don't do well with people who don't pull their own weight.  I lack empathy at times and do NOT like to be controlled.  I am not afraid of conflict.  I think a debate is a great way to communicate.  I'm intense and driven.  I'm energetic and bossy.  I am motivated by fear and anger.

All of the Type 8 traits that were trying to surface in me over the course of my life were shut down for one reason or another.  I married and dated men who couldn't handle them.  I had friends who didn't understand them.  I took jobs that required a different set of skills.  Type 8s are largely "un-feminine".  Their personality is not gender appropriate as a woman in society.  I was the daughter of a Southern Baptist minister.  I rest my case.  The list of why I didn't behave who I was created to be is endless.

I've had a difficult few days and I was talking to a good friend about feeling that I lack "togetherness".  I told her I felt like I was a mess. My label of myself to her was because of poor decisions I had made regarding my business and my money.  Her response was surprising. She said to not be too hard on myself because we as women were raised by Disney.  We were taught to believe that a man would rescue us, so women in general were not taught to be self sufficient in many areas that men were.  We were taught that our job was simply to care for others and look good doing it.  Thanks, Walt.  As if we didn't have enough to overcome.

Dating as a Type 8, the Challenger, has been a cluster of obvious failures.  In the past, my goal in dating was simply to enjoy myself. I didn't think much about who they were as people.  If I was attracted to them and we had a good time, that was sufficient.  I never expected them to stimulate me intellectually.  I was playing the part of a girl looking for a relationship, but I didn't really want one.  My Challenger personality and my brainwashed, presumed need to star in a Disney movie were in direct opposition.  The Disney-brainwashed Rebekah usually won.

I suppose I knew that I hadn't yet finished my own self discovery so dating was like gambling.  If I happened to find someone I connected with, score.  But it was by chance that it happened and even then it didn't hold my interest.  The real love affair I was looking for was within.

I was on a date the other night and found that I was able to be forthcoming and honest with my expectations and desires.  I didn't sugar coat them.  I wasn't afraid how he would respond.   How he responded was not my concern.  I was only concerned with communicating what I wanted.  I just said it frankly without emotion ... I could feel my soul sigh with relief.   This is completely opposite from how I used to conduct myself.  I am no longer worried about being chosen by just any man.  I want to choose him AND be chosen by him.  And being the "type" I am, this is no easy task.   I'm not a universal taste for men.  I frighten them away because they can't tame me.  I recently told an ex that attempted to connect again that I was not his girl...he needed someone sweet and submissive and that ain't me, Linda.  All those tears over men now seem silly and wasteful.  I was just playing the part that Disney suggested I play...the part of the damsel in distress who needs a man to make her life complete and without him I was desolate and deficient.  

This picture of the damsel in distress may be true for some.  Some may thrive on being rescued and rescuing.  But it's equivocally untrue for me.  All these erroneous messages about femininity and the supposed need to rely on a man have done for me is kept me from realizing the fullness of my individual self.  And that self is no romantic with a mop singing about when her true love will come.  That self is happily mopping the damn floor and listening to very loud and mostly inappropriate music while planning how she will make life her bitch. (No other word is suited for that statement.)

Fully embracing who God has created me to be will be the challenge of my life.  I won't have arrived until I'm dead and cremated.  (Please don't bury me.  I want to be sprinkled in the Mississippi River.   With a very large party to follow complete with live music and alcohol. And dancing must commence.)

Move over, Cinderella.  Your time has freakin' expired.

30 Days and a Totally Broken Habit

Today marks 30 days that I successfully broke a habit.  This has been a life changing 30 days.

It started with heart break and ended with more beauty than I could have imagined.  I started this journey so I would stop a habit that was keeping me from feeling the hurt I knew was there.  And man, did I feel it.  Buckets of tears.  Anger.  Lots and lots of loud Jesus music and long drives.

But somewhere along those 30 days, I moved past the pain and into peace.  The peace that has been waiting for me for three, long years.  When I talk about my divorce, the main theme of the conversation is acceptance.  Acceptance for the stages that I had to go through to bring me here.  To the endless string of dates, the abuse of alcohol, the poor eating habits, the questionable friendships, the lackluster parenting, the lack of drive, the lack of beauty, the lack of Jesus...I had to go through it all.  Yes, I delayed it more than I wish I had.  But I can't guarantee that a lack of delay would have given me the same, beautiful result.

I'm now the girl who considers her children when making decisions.  I'm now the girl that chooses her dates carefully.  I'm now the girl who thinks about what she puts in her mouth before she does it.  I'm now the girl who makes time alone to read and pray and write.  I'm now the girl who works out consistently, who works consistently, who takes care of her bills and her responsibilities with joy and fervor.

I have a dear friend who is fresh in the throes of separation and possible divorce.  She is suffering tremendously.  She is drinking her pain away.  She isn't eating.  She is having a hard time going to work.  My heart hurts for her.  But I didn't totally remember what it was like to feel like you have given up on life.  My sister had to remind me.  (She is my memory keeper...for better or worse.)  She reminded me that I was also desperate and lost and had very little ability to function.  When she reminded me, the detailed memories started coming back. And all I was able to say to my friend after that was, "it's just going to be painful...for a really long time...."

But you forget the details of your despair.  And peace eventually finds you.

In the midst of the worst part of my attempt to recover after divorce, I met a man who told me that I was full of red flags.  He said he was looking for someone who was further along in the divorce process.

At the time, it just seemed hurtful and judgmental.  Now I completely get it.  I'm not anywhere close to the girl I was.  That girl did NOT have her s*&t together.  That girl did NOT make well informed decisions.  That girl was NOT living an intelligent life with self-discipline and drive.  That girl was flying by the seat of her pants, with her hair on fire, and her soul a discombobulation of emotions and coping skills.  That girl had a lot of growing to do.  And he was right to pass me by.

My only serious relationship after my divorced contacted me.  This man caused me so much pain.  I was fresh out of my divorce and was lost and scared.  And I loved him intensely.  And have welcomed him back into my life every time he contacted me before.  But this time I was able to kindly tell him I was grateful for what he taught me about myself, but I'm not that girl that would fall in love with someone like him anymore.  Our time has passed.

I'm now in the shoes of the red flag man...regarding people with caution and logic.  I'm the one turning down potential love interests.

All because my friend insisted I do a 30 day challenge to break a habit.  (Bless you, Jeana.)   I not only broke the hell out of that habit, but I found myself along the way.  And she's pretty cool.

Rebekah the Harsh Slave Master

My dog Sadie was the shyest one in the litter.  I always go for the shy ones because they are typically easier to train and not as rambunctious.  Being a puppy, however, she has a great deal of energy.  Homegirl chases her own tail.  She tears up everything she can get her mouth on.  She digs in my laundry and puts holes in our clothes.  She swings on the kid swing.  She is constantly on the go.

However, since she is innately shy and unsure of herself, she is fearful of me...her Alpha Dog.  If she hears my voice raise slightly, she cowers in the corner.  Or pees.

This behavior drives me absolutely nuts.  The cowering I can handle, though that means she is slow to come to me when I call her.  But the peeing ... all over the house ... because she's scared of me ... heavy sigh.

I handled this phenomenon poorly.  I yelled louder.  I put her in her kennel.  I put her outside.  I punished her.

The behaviors got worse.

So this week after a peeing mess that I was cleaning up, I suddenly got it.  Her neurosis was MY FAULT.

I called her to me, and after she peed again, she came to me with her head down.

I hugged her and petted her for a good while and just kept telling her I was sorry.  It wasn't her fault...it was mine.  We had a really sweet moment.  (Though I immediately bathed because homegirl STUNK).

Instead of yelling, I started affirming her.  I softened my tone.  I petted her often and frequently.  I played with her.  I got on the floor with her.  I even let the stinky homegirl in my bed while I read (only for 20 minutes cuz there's not much I like less than dog hair in my bed but A for effort).

Her transformation was remarkable.  I can't say she doesn't ever pee when she's scared, but she pees a lot less and it has not happened inside, only outside.  Her little body is still a bit hesitant when I call her to me, but she comes to me instead of cowering in the corner.

Dogs respond better with encouragement and tenderness.  People respond better with encouragement and tenderness.

DUH.

It's amazing how our brains can have the knowledge yet it remains untapped because we have not had to use it in that context.

I was reading last night.  This heavy book about self discovery.  And I said to myself, "OK, my girl, it's time to put this book down.  You've read enough to chew on for the night."

I got up and went to brush my teeth and it dawned on me.  I had just called myself, "my girl."

The relief and raw joy that flooded over me was marvelous.  I had finally learned to love myself.  In that split second, the term of endearment, "my girl" came naturally to me.  I wasn't thinking about what I was saying.  It was already there.

I have heard many times that we are supposed to love ourselves before we can truly love anyone else.  I don't believe this is entirely true, because loving yourself is not an easy thing to accomplish for some and that does not translate to a lack of love for others.  However, loving yourself opens up a world of unbroached, intellectual emotion.  It allows you to love deeper.  To forgive quicker.  To view people with kindness and empathy instead of judgment and pessimism.  It is like the ocean.  Yes, there are beautiful things to find on the shore, but if you go into the depth of the water....sheer beauty.

Sadie and I are both on the road to recovery from being beat up by yours truly.  Rebekah has been one harsh slave master.  She has scolded, yelled, accused, blamed, punished, chastened, lectured, spanked enough for one lifetime.  I have put myself in time out for too long.

We have some untapped growth to do that can only come with encouragement and kindness.

These girls are ready to lift their heads in confidence, and rise.

Dark Caves and Katy Perry

I was riding in the car with two of my helpers, on our way to the 6th job of the day.  I was looking down at my phone reading a text from a client (shameful...texting and driving...insert disgusted face emoji) and missed that the light had just turned green.  One car politely honked behind me as I was moving, then a second, and just to balance the set I honked as well.  We all burst into laughter. 

I wish I could translate accurately the amount of joy we had in that moment.  I could not stop laughing.  My workers couldn't stop laughing.  For just a moment, we had reached a peak place of happy.

It made me remember when Graham was in the PICU and I was lower than I had ever been.  I hid in the bathroom to cry when people came to see us.  I couldn't stop crying and sometimes I just didn't want others to see.  Yet in the midst of that, two of my best girlfriends came to town and forced me to go home to sleep in my own bed.  We danced to Graham's now theme song "Roar" by Katy Perry, drank too much wine, laughed until our sides hurt, cried, and all fell asleep in my king sized bed.

In the midst of the darkest moment of my life, I found joy.

If we close in ourselves in our pain and misery, we miss the beauty.  We miss that our kids are hugging us tightly.  We miss that the candle we just lit smelled up the whole house.  We miss that the ice water satisfies our thirst.  We miss that we just got enough money to pay a bill on its due date.  we miss that cheeseburgers are amazing (I'm on DAY 3 of this KETO CLEANSE NONSENSE and have been eating bone brother and drinking black coffee, hot tea and water ONLY...oh cheeseburger, how much I love thee...let me count the ways....).  We miss that our dog is super soft after going to the groomer.  We miss that turning the heater on in the morning is delightful to our cold bones.  We miss that birds are super amazing in their flight patterns. 

We just miss too much when we are immersed in our pain.

Beauty in the midst of pain is one of the ways our pain eventually subsides.  It's like letting in sunshine in a dark cave.  Eventually the sunshine will entice us enough to walk outside, leaving the dark and musty cave behind.

I can't tell you that the tears don't threaten to fall when I think about my baby in the ICU.  I can't tell you that I will ever get over that pain.  But I can say firmly that God made something beautiful out of that pain.  Whether it's riding in the car with your workers during a long day of cleaning toilets or dancing with your friends, joy will find you.  Don't miss it.


Roar by Katy Perry

https://youtu.be/CevxZvSJLk8

I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath

Scared to rock the boat and make a mess

So I sat quietly, agreed politely

I guess that I forgot I had a choice

I let you push me past the breaking point

I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything

You held me down, but I got up (hey!)

Already brushing off the dust

You hear my voice, your hear that sound

Like thunder, gonna shake the ground

You held me down, but I got up

Get ready 'cause I had enough

I see it all, I see it now

I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Now I'm floating like a butterfly

Stinging like a bee I earned my stripes

I went from zero, to my own hero

You held me down, but I got up (hey!)

Already brushing off the dust

You hear my voice, your hear that sound

Like thunder, gonna shake the ground

You held me down, but I got up

Get ready 'cause I've had enough

I see it all, I see it now

I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Roar, roar, roar, roar, roar!

I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

You're gonna hear me roar!

Laughter and Family and Stinky House Guests

There was a tremendous amount of laughter.  I was surrounded by my favorite people who each laugh loudly and often.  My dad is known for his laugh.  My mom cries when she laughs (and sometimes her drink comes out in dribbles).  My brother emulates my dad's laugh and my sister and I follow suit.  My brother and sister in law keep us all laughing and are no stranger to joy themselves.  There was a lot of laughing happening over this holiday.  I had eaten many huge, amazingly satisfying meals.  Followed with pie.  Lots and lots of pie.  My kids were happier than I've seen them in a while.  They mirrored my sentiment.

It dawned on me in the midst of the monopoly games and laughter and stream of food that this was the third Thanksgiving I had gone without a significant other. And yet I was truly happy.  My boys were truly happy.

Life is interesting like that.  There is no set formula for happiness or contentment.  It's different for everyone.   It comes in waves and settles over you without your knowledge mostly.  You're just you...living your life...trying not to die or kill your kids in the process.  And then you have an Ah-Ha! moment where you realize you are genuinely happy.  "How and when did this occur?" you think to yourself.

The answer is subtly.  It's made up of small moments of goodness.  It's the result of daily habits that build your spirit.  It's the result of small decisions that increase your quality of life.  It's a combination of rest, activity, and thought.  Lots and lots of thought.

I don't believe that people change overnight.  I don't believe in immediate transformation.  I believe that their lives were adjusting to the Ah-Ha! moment God knew was on its way.  I believe that whether they acknowledged it or not, their brains were working hard to eliminate pessimism and ugliness.  They were making small changes that led to a large change ... a moment they wouldn't forget ... a moment they attribute to their great change. 

My friend and I were discussing the nuances of my struggle since my divorce.  She asked why I made certain decisions and all I could tell her was I was lonely and scared.  And felt defeated. 

At some point that changed.  At some point, I no longer felt defeated...or perhaps I felt less defeated.  A little more each day.  Gradually.  And then my brain went to work to affirm that was true. 

Our brains work hard to affirm our core beliefs.  Thank goodness for the ability to change a core belief.

My core beliefs are now something like this:  I am loved.  I am not alone.  I am worthy of goodness.  I am honest and kind.  I am beautiful.  I am a hard worker.  I can do all things thru Jesus. I am not defeated.

Yes, I still have the occasional ugly thought that likes to settle in my brain.  For a time.  He tells me I am not worthy of good things.  He tells me I am unlovable and worthless.  He tells me my life is hard because I am difficult.

But what's amazing about changing your script is you recognize those negative thoughts quickly and have the ability to shove them out the door like an unwanted house guest who has just brought his entire, stinky, un-showered, loud, obnoxious family into your peaceful, immaculate living room.

They are just out of place.  And everyone knows it.

I have always been that girl that laughs a lot.  I find something to laugh about in most situations.  Even when it's inappropriate....like a funeral...sigh.  When I'm feeling down, my favorite thing to do is google funny memes and I instantly feel better.  I like laughter.

I wonder if that has attributed to my joy now.  My guess is MOST DEFINITELY YES.

It may have been sneaky in its delivery.  It may have taken more time than I would have liked to bring about significant change, yet here we are, Linda.  Sitting in our peaceful, immaculate living room filled with laughter and working hard to keep out the stinky house guests.  They need to invest in some Dove and Meyers laundry detergent.  And until they have dressed and showered appropriately, they have no place in my living room.

Forgiveness & Dog Poop

Ephesians 4:32

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

We were late.  The boys and I had been up since 5:00 a.m., but we were still rushing out the door for school at 7:15.  A suspicious smell hit me, and my temperature rose as I realized what it was.  Dog poop.  I started looking around for the culprit only to find that there was a trail from the front door to my boys' bathroom.  I quickly grabbed my sons and checked their shoes.  The guilty one looked at me with angst and expectation...waiting for the crazy person within me to appear.

I did not disappoint him.  The crazy person did indeed appear.

After we figured out the source, we were all scrambling to remedy the stink.  Clothes and rugs were thrown in the wash, shoes had to be changed.  The front porch had to be rinsed.  We were a mess of activity.

I heard my crazy self say to them, "I'm a single momma and I need you boys to help me!!!"

Not my finest moment.

Once we were finally in the car, I took a deep breath and looked back at my precious boys.  Their faces were stressed and tight.  I had caused that.

I would like to say that I never, ever respond like a crazy person.  And I certainly never cause my boys stress.  I would like to say that I am merry and bright like freakin' Christmas 24/7.  I would like to say that I handle stress and being late and poop messes like Mother Teresa. 

But I would be lying.  And I am many things, but liar is not amongst them.

Unfortunately, the opposite is true at times.  I'm wound tight often and do not have the tolerance for anything unexpected or unpleasant.  I am in my own world of efficiently functioning at my maximum capability, and find obstacles to be an incredible nuisance to this high gear I'm driving in.

Kids...a.k.a. obstacles.

The beauty of failing miserably is the opportunity I get to ask for forgiveness.

I reached back to hold their hands and said, "I'm so sorry I was such a lunatic.  Can you forgive me?"

Their faces softened and quickly said, "yes, momma.  It's ok."

Forgiveness changes relationships.  Forgiveness softens hearts and opens up vulnerable communication.  Forgiveness is the epitome of who Jesus is.  Forgiveness IS Jesus.

I've often said that relationships aren't close unless there is a time when forgiveness is necessary.  Opening up to someone means exposing yourself...the good, the bad, the ugly.  It means letting someone in to see our hearts.  It means the need to be truly yourself outweighs the need to hide.  Our true selves are not always roses.

In this world of dating in your 40s, forgiveness is sparse.   Our hearts have become so damaged after being broken over and over again that we are closed off and intolerant of mistakes and differences.  One false move typically means you've lost the interest of the other party and there are 100 women or men behind you eager to have a chance.  And one of them will play it right and get the guy/girl while you flounder in your mess of attempts at romance.  And swear that you won't screw up again.  You'll save that for marriage.

And we wonder why marriages don't last.

The friends and family with whom I have had conflict, thus the need to ask forgiveness, are those most precious to me.  Because they trusted my heart.  They knew my heart.  Our relationship was too precious to them to let an unforgiving spirit divide us.  So they forgave me.

If we never have to apologize, we are either daft in our knowledge of ourselves, or we are withholding large parts of our hearts.

Neither one of those is who I want to be, so as long as I have breath I will ask for forgiveness.  And pray that I don't damage my boys too badly along the way.  And that dog poop will stay outside where it belongs.

Sticky with pain

Let me pre0-empt this by saying I drained my keyboard of plexus after myh son decided to pour it directly on it.  So the keys are a bit hmessed up.  Big sigh.

I woke after a deep night's sleep with this thought:  I deserve better.

I'm not one to believe this. I always err on the side of believing I'm a failure.  Whenever unpleasant things happen to me, I take responsibility for them.  I typically trust others' discernment above my own.  I have a long track record of poor decisions, so trusting myself is challenging.

Believing that I deserve good things right after I open my eyes in the morning is a huge improvement.

I've been trained in trauma since Graham's accident.  I know how to spot the physical triggers before they lead to decisions.  I've done quite a lot of research on how the brain responds to stress.  I'm no stranger to knowledge on this subject.

I learned to lean into the pain of almost losing my son.  I was diligent in doing the exercises to heal that part of my brain and my heart.  I did it so my boys could have a great mother again.  I knew I would be less than amazing if I allowed my traumatized brain to control my life.  I knew I wouldn't sleep, I knew I would live on high alert jumping at the smallest sound. I knew I would be an incapable participant in their discipline.  I knew I would be suffering to keep it together, thus causing them unnecessary pain.  So I dug in and was able to heal. 

But what I have not leaned into is the pain of rejection.  I have avoided leaning into that pain.

I have been listening to a podcast called ''Rise'' by Rachel Hollis.  Her words of wisdom on the subject of rejection and fear have been rolling around in my head for weeks.  But one of the best things I've learned from her is to lean into pain because that pain is trying to tell you something.

When I completely blew up any chance I had with the false alarm I thought was IT (we'll call him Dan), I could not shake the feelings of humiliation.  Even as I type this, my face is getting hot and my heart is starting to beat faster.  Throughout the day,  I would have these subtle thoughts that reminded me I was rejected, and my body chemistry would completely change.  I could be sitting in the carpool line and have a fleeting thought of my miserable failure with Dan, and the hot face would come.  I would be making a snack of hummus and veggies for my boys, and the thought of Dan's rejection would flit through my brain....hot face.  I would be cleaning a toilet...hot face.  Singing in my car...hot face.  Showering...hot face (for more reasons than I like a super hot shower).

After many attempts to make it go away, I finally decided to heed the Hollis advice and lean into it.  get all sticky with the rejection...allow the humiliation to flood over me from head to toe.  so I sat in the pain.  I allowed my brain to work through every angle.  It was an exercise I had been putting off for years.  I worked through every rejection and picked it apart.  I analyzed every action, every word, every feeling.  I dissected the heck out of it until my entire body was hot with humiliation.

And then I napped.

just kidding.  I didn't nap.   I packed it up in a mental suitcase and labeled it, "lies."  And put it in the corner far away from the truth.  Where it belongs.

I'd like to say that my face doesn't get hot anymore, but that would be a stretch.  All I can say is rejection and I are now friends.  I'm not intimidated by him anymore.  I'm not afraid of him anymore.  I'm just accepting that he exists and has a part to play in my journey to be who god created me to be.  (yes i know god should be capitalized but the keuyboard is not cooperating)_.  And who god created me to be should not be stifled by whether a man likes me or not.  If I allowed that to take root in my heart, I'm succumbing to being weak and fragile. 

And this girl has too much living to do to allow that to happen.

I. DESERVE. BETTER.

Greatness... or Mediocrity?

I am in the process of visiting other churches.  It halfway breaks my heart to do so because it will be a solid closing of a door on my parents not being here, and saying goodbye to a huge part of my history.  First Baptist has been a stable part of my life in New Orleans.  I love the people there.  I love the history I have.  But I feel a pull to explore other places of worship.  Or rather, God is pulling me.

My boys and I have been forming our own little unit since my parents moved.  We are closer than we have ever been.  They rely on me more than they ever have.  There is no one to catch me if I fall in the way only parents can catch you. 

We drove by their old house the other day, at the insistence of my 5 yr. old.  We were all quiet as we passed by...each of us most likely flooded with memories of feeding the chickens, swinging, sitting in front of the fire, playing basketball, frying turkeys, drinking coffee on the patio.  Silence and memories hung in the SUV like the damp.

Those memories of sweet fellowship are a part of who we were created to be.  God created us to be in close relation with others.  He created us with this deep need for fellowship and belonging.  He created us in His image...and His greatest desire is to walk closely with us. 

With the state of affairs now, there is typically no single person that will walk with you throughout your life.  Your close relationships typically shift from person to person.  There was a time in my life when my sister was my closest companion because we lived together.  Husbands, roommates, boyfriends, parents, siblings ... all took their place in my life as my closest relationship at different times. 

My relationship with God, however, was always the underlying current.  Whether I acknowledged Him or not, He knew me better than anyone.  He should have always been my closest relationship because of His intimate knowledge of me and His incomprehensible love for me.  But being the stubborn girl who has to try everything out for herself, I did not stay by His side.

Our bodies are fascinating machines.  They can take quite a bit of beating and still function.  However, when we function without doing what's best for our bodies, our bodies tell on us.  We gain fat instead of muscle, our sleep suffers, we develop disorders and diseases, our skin ages, our muscles ache, our bones creak, our brain chemistry changes.  We are still functioning, but not at our maximum ability.  We are just getting by.  We continue to make poor decisions about our health because we don't know how we are SUPPOSED to feel.  We have accepted that we feel like crap most days because we don't know any different.

This is parallel to our need for Jesus.  We can still function without Him.  We can still find happiness.  We can still find wealth.  We can still have close relationships.  We still laugh and cry and enjoy life.  We still find love.  But we are missing out on the ultimate experience of being human.  We have settled for less than great.  We focus on what we THINK will make us happier than we've ever been (like my miserable attempts at romance) but the truth is the opposite.  We make decisions based on temporary emotions and fleeting needs.  We end up making it more difficult on ourselves to find those things by denying who God is.  But like our decisions about our health, we don't know what it feels like to be the best version of ourselves.  We just accept that this sub-par life is how we are supposed to feel.  These sub-par relationships are good enough. 

God is not a set of rules and regulations.  He's not a mean puppet master ready to whack us into submission.  He is simply the best course we could ever choose to take.  He knows it.  We just don't.  He is our most healthy life.  He is our fullest life.  He is the epitome of goodness and wholeness.  He is our most complete self.

When I am contemplating eating crap instead of good food, I get this flash of how I'm going to feel in a few hours (or minutes).  I know I will be dragging.  I know I will want to sit and not finish my To Do list.  I know I'll likely sleep less and I will be more restless. 

Likewise, I know when I make decisions that are less than great I am also doing it with the knowledge that I'm cheating myself of greatness.  I send that text or agree to that date.  I spend time with that person who brings out terrible traits in me.  I watch that disturbing movie or listen to that creepy podcast about a serial killer.  I take a nap instead of go for a run.  I eat the crap anyways, with the full knowledge that it will not make me feel like the best version of myself.  All for the temporary satisfaction to my taste buds or my ego.  Or because it mirrors how I'm feeling about myself in that moment.

God is always the better option because He created us.  He KNOWS us.  He knows exactly what decisions will lead us to be the best version of ourselves and which ones won't.  It's not out of spite that He gives us discernment when making decisions.  It's love.  It's always been love.

As my boys and I set out on this path to find another church home, we go in search of our individual greatness.  I want the fullest of lives for them and I'm trusting that we'll find it as long as we stay close to our Author and Creator.  Relationships may come and go, but He's not going anywhere.  Our relationship with Him translates to our most complete self.  Without Him, we are living a life doomed to mediocrity.  And they're worth more than that.

Judgment and Heart

My oldest performed at his school fair yesterday.  We had to park five blocks away because the fair was so packed.  We were running to get there in time, and then once there I realized we had left the tickets in the car.  I decided to book it back to the car after leaving Graham with his grandparents and Brady with his class because I had to work a booth right after the performance.  I had six minutes. 

I made it in time to see the performance, but I had to stand in the back.  Brady couldn't find me.  His face looked stressed while his little eyes darted around the crowd.  He was doing the motions perfectly, but his mind was on where his momma was.  The first thing he said after his performance was, "Where were you, momma?" 

Being single is a lonely affair most of the time.  Activities are planned to avoid this loneliness, but the most important part of these activities is the company, not the activity itself.  If I'm not with people I love and who love me, the activity is not as enjoyable.  It doesn't matter if I'm on a beautiful island at an all inclusive resort or in my living room.  If the company is wrong, the whole activity fails to deliver the desired result.  Brady did not care that he was performing for a crowd.  He just wanted his momma to see him perform.

I remember the last time I went to a bar I was hopefully looking around for a face who knew me.  Though I "know" most people there, I don't really.  I don't know what makes them tick.  I don't know what they do when they're bored or how they handle conflict.  I don't know much.  This doesn't decrease their value as humans, it just means that our individual relationship is not one based on knowledge of who they are. 

I went on a date recently and the man I was with asked what my biggest pet peeve was in a relationship.  I said without hesitation that it was being misunderstood without questioning.  I surprised him and myself with how quickly I answered.  I had just gotten a taste of this, and decided it was the worst feeling possible.  His response was, "Oh, that's a good one.  I've never thought about that."  Neither had I.

Being misunderstood means that you are unknown.  Being misunderstood is a common occurrence in our world full of social media "friends" and followers.  Our actions become the main focus, and our intentions are lost.  Our hearts are silenced and the actions take center stage.  It is the ultimate platform for judging based on appearances.  If someone wants to know you, they will ask questions so they can understand where you're coming from.  If they don't, no questioning follows the misunderstood action...just judgement.

But if someone knows you, they know your heart in everything you do.  They know your reasoning behind your social media posts.  They understand why you put yourself out there.  They understand your intentions because they know your heart. 

Without someone knowing our heart, our actions are misunderstood.

Perhaps that's why dating is so tricky.  We are putting ourselves out there with vulnerability and are being judged without being known. 

My son was not concerned with the many "fans" in the crowd.  He just wanted his momma to see him...the one who knows him.

Regardless of those quick to judge and cast their votes without knowing me, I will continue to put myself out there, pick myself up and move on.  (Even if that means short stints of crying in the bathroom.)  I have no choice but to press on.  I will continue to expose myself to criticism without too much concern because the One who truly knows me gets me.  And He has given me an incredible inner circle who know my heart.  They are the ones who make my performance meaningful.

https://youtu.be/cVVlMQved8k

Empty Candy Jar and Lessons in Love

My boys get rewarded for doing random acts of kindness without being prompted.  Each time I catch them being kind, they get a piece of candy. (I need to change this to a healthier reward but until the Halloween candy jar is emptied, we will march on.)  Their response when they realize they have been kind without thinking about it is priceless. 

This practice in rewarding good behavior has been a reward for me also.  It refocuses my attention to my core value...and that is being kind in every circumstance.  Instead of dwelling on my negative behavior, I dwell on goodness.

This recent humiliation has been challenging for this, however.  I find myself saying over and over, "of course you messed this up, Rebekah.  You mess everything up."  I own the undesired outcome and make it my fault.  I place all the blame squarely on my shoulders and try to carry that along with my seemingly very large and heavy piece of the world, all at once.  And of course I'm not strong enough to carry that so it sends me down a spiral that's full of all my negative self-talk that I've worked so hard to get rid of. 

"You're a mess, Rebekah."

"You will always be alone, Rebekah."

"You will never find a man who can handle you, Rebekah."

"What you need doesn't exist, Rebekah."

"You run everyone off, Rebekah."

"You should be more normal, Rebekah."

"You should behave like other women do, Rebekah.  They are together, so why can't you get with it?"

"You need to be less intense, Rebekah."

"If you had played it right, you would have gotten the guy, Rebekah.  But of course you screwed that up with your personality."

...and on and on it goes until I feel like I'm going to throw up the little that I ate that day.

When all I should be saying is,

"We are clearly not a good match."

And leave it at that.  End of story.  Done.  No fault prescribed to either party.  Just differences in personality that make us incompatible. 

But that's not the whole truth.  The whole truth is that I behaved disrespectfully by posting pictures and he returned the sentiment with disrespect.

But one action does not make up the whole of a person.

I was lifting weights with my friend and we were talking about the nightmare that is divorce.  (I am a bit sorry for all who are within earshot of us.)  We were discussing the many failed attempts at dating in my life since my divorce.  And I settled on this comment:  it is extremely unfair to be judged as a person when in circumstances that are temporary and extreme.

I was temporarily insane...for two years.  How I grappled with divorce and suddenly being a single mom was just my reaction to a terrible situation.  Many people do not have to walk through that fire, so they are able to hide their particular version of crazy.  But it was a necessary part of my journey, and the ones I met along the way were there just to assist me in my growth and calm some of the crazy.

I've met quite an array of personalities during this journey.  Each of them gave me pieces of wisdom that have been important.

There was the man that was a liar.  He taught me the importance of proceeding with caution and discernment. 

There was the man who was untrustworthy and detached.  He taught me the importance of having girlfriends that allowed you to cry without ceasing and would love me despite my foolish decision to keep taking him back.

There was the man who was kind and funny.  He taught me the importance of enjoying the moment.

There was the man who was lazy and non-committal.  He taught me the importance of following through.

There was the man who was settled in his ways.  He taught me the importance of stability.

There was the man who was obsessed with his health.  He taught me the importance of discipline.

(Side note...my son is sitting beside me on my desk with gas.  It's hard to concentrate with the stench.)

There was the man who was quick to assume and judged me harshly based on one action.  He taught me the importance of acceptance, forgiveness and individuality.

None of these were failures.  All of them were necessary.  I met them in order to change my view of the world, of myself, and of God.  I met them so I would be able to accumulate goodness despite the heartaches. 

(Another side note...my other son just greeted me with a toot.  Boys.  Firm eye roll.)

The beauty of life is that we get a new start with each new day.  We can decide THAT DAY that we will do things differently.  We can decide to show strangers kindness.  We can choose to praise good behavior.  We can choose to change our negative self-talk to encouragement.  We can choose to get up and keep going, even if that means leaving a piece of our broken hearts behind temporarily.

Because one day all the pieces will come back together, and we'll be able to live whole heartedly.  And by then the candy jar will be empty.

https://youtu.be/DIE3gdzALfA

Second Wind

Marren Morris

Why do we build up all these idols

Just to watch 'em fall?

You're wearin' the crown, toast of the town

And no one takes your call

Yeah maybe I've been down, down, down, down

But I always come back around, 'round, 'round, 'round, yeah

You can't forget about me

While you weren't lookin' I was gettin' even higher

Say what you want about me

Your words are gasoline on my fire

You can hate me, underestimate me

Do what you do cause what you do don't phase me

Just when you think I'm at the end

Any second I'ma catch my second wind

Na na, na na, na na

An airplane's only paper 'til it finds a breeze

But don't you know that it's the low that makes the high so sweet?

When they try to break, break, break you

That's when you get your break, break, breakthrough, yeah

You can't forget about me

While you weren't lookin' I was gettin' even higher

Say what you want about me

Your words are gasoline on my fire

You can hate me, underestimate me

Do what you do cause what you do don't phase me

Just when you think I'm at the end

Any second I'ma catch my second wind

Na na, na na, na na na na

Na na, na na, na na

Yeah maybe I've been down, down, down, down

But I always come back around, 'round, 'round, 'round

You can't forget about me

While you weren't lookin' I was gettin' even higher

Say what you want about me

Your words are gasoline on my fire

You can hate me, underestimate me

Do what you do cause what you do don't phase me

Just when you think I'm at the end

I'ma catch my second wind

I'ma catch my, , na na

I'ma catch my, (na na) I'ma catch my, (na na)

I'ma catch my, (na na) I'ma catch my second wind

Na na, na na, na na (Ohh) 

Na na, na na (yeah) na na

Na na, na na, na na

Facebook Killed my Love Life

I was driving to Dallas when I got a Facebook message from a guy I knew a long time ago.  I was driving through his town so I popped up as a possible match for him on a dating app.  At first I didn't remember much about him, so I asked my parents if they remembered him.  The tone in the car immediately changed to excitement.  It was affirmative.  He was a great catch and would be a great match for me.  We spent the next week texting and video chatting.  I was beaming.  My mom said she had never seen me so happy.  He was a successful, handsome man who loved Jesus.  Surely this was it.  Surely I had just found the love of my life.  And surely because of the random way we reconnected, this was no coincidence...surely God was in it.

I deleted numbers from my phone, I removed myself from the dating app, I turned down invitations to go out.  I was totally smitten.

I'm not a girl who is quick to commit.  I have been asked to stop seeing other people many times before, and my answer was always the same...I'm not ready.  The truth was, I just didn't like them enough to commit.

So this complete disinterest in other men was a rare occurrence.  I do not get excited easily over men.  I have learned to proceed with a bit of caution and a large amount of pessimism.  Dating was just a prolonged way of figuring out I didn't like them in the first place.  So this meant something to me.  It felt different.  It was different.  I was different.

And then came my birthday.  Being the social media person who is considering different aspects of business that I am, I shared my evening with my 1,000+ friends on Facebook, excitedly showing my slice of the world that it was possible to enjoy your 40 something birthday when you're a single mom.  My friend AJ kindly took me and my boys out so they could experience bringing their momma to dinner at a nice restaurant.  I thought nothing of the pictures so up they went.

My excitement over this new relationship immediately died when I realized I was being ghosted.  I received no explanation, no questions asked.  He just vanished.

I'm used to this behavior.  It's not the first time I have been completely ignored by a potential love interest.  But this was not like other romances.  He loves Jesus.  Surely this is not how men who love Jesus respond to challenges.  Surely they have more staying power.  Surely they don't say things they don't mean.  Surely they are more respectful, kinder, more thoughtful, more understanding, more direct.....more importantly, surely they are more forgiving....

But the silence continued.  My family and friends were disappointed.  At my request, they prayed for a reconciliation.  We were completely ridiculous in our drama.  I heard the usual, "at least you found out now how he handles conflict" and "obviously he wasn't the guy we thought he was" and "God has something better for you" and "if he really likes you this won't deter him."  But none of that helped.  I was devastated.  I made a fool of myself by extending multiple apologies.  I called.  I texted.  I messaged.  I voice texted.  And I got nothing, Jesus.

As my spirits dropped lower and lower, my anxiety went higher and higher.  Since I am in this stage of changing how I handle anxiety,  the usual coping skills no longer worked.  I was having to deal with this raw emotion with bare knuckles and lots of Jesus.  And lots. and lots. and LOTS of tears.

I was with my friend yesterday when the realization that I was truly alone hit me.  Her son goes to a school 30 minutes from her house, so I volunteered to go pick him up while my boys stayed and played at her house.  I needed time alone.

Driving has always been a safe place for me.  My cars are home to me...almost more than my actual home.  It's when I'm behind the wheel that my thoughts form emotions.  There is something about me and the road and the music and the isolation from people while being surrounded by people that triggers my feelings.  It's a perfect picture of life...being an individual in a world filled with people.  True to form, the tears fell and I cried.  As beautiful Carrie Underwood says, there is no such thing as a pretty cry.  So homegirl UGLY cried.

I cried about my future.  I cried about my past.  I cried about my present.  I cried about how my stupid actions cause terrible results.  I cried about being single and alone.  I cried about my boys home-hopping.  I cried for them.  I cried about the many times my heart has been broken.  I cried because I hate Facebook.  I cried about my business.  I cried about my lack of direction.  I cried about my parents living in another state.  I cried about my siblings living in another state.  I cried because I had let someone in.  I cried because I was a fool.  I cried because I am a hot mess.  I cried because Jesus loves me despite my hot mess.  I cried for all the people in the world that can't shed a tear to save their life.  You're welcome.

By the time I picked up my friend's son, the tears were all done.  Thank goodness.  I didn't want to frighten the poor fella.  He napped while I recovered.  I came back to my friend's house a little spent but a lot lighter.  I needed that ugly cry.

Crying is one of our most vulnerable states.  We are very careful with who sees us cry, when we cry, how we cry.    Dealing with buried emotion is usually not pretty.  If we cry in front of an inappropriate someone at an inappropriate time, we are totally humiliated.  It's a deeply embarrassing event.  But tears don't have any regard for opportune moments.  They fall when they are good and ready.  They fall so you don't drown. (Thank you to Jeana & Cain, for this analogy.)

Every tear represents an emotion...a longing...an unfulfilled expectation...a disappointment....sometimes joy...and it's sometimes only through tears that we are able to sift through buried emotion.   Good or bad, tears bring us to a standoff with our hearts.

I started painting when I was in college.   I picked up a brush because my boyfriend at the time was an artist and told me I should paint my poems.  (Being the angst-ridden twenty something, I wrote a lot of poetry.)  The result was a painting of a crying sky over my favorite verse at the time.

"Watch over your heart with all diligence, for from it flow the springs of life."  Proverbs 4:23

I've neglected to do this since my divorce.  I've been careless with my heart.  I've let unworthy men trample it.  I've let unkind words prick it.  I've let alcohol numb it.  I've let malicious actions stab it.  I've given it scraps instead of sustenance.  I've forced it to live off of processed food and sugar instead of nutritious, whole foods.  It's been beating, but barely.

My 20something self who painted that amateur painting would be sorely disappointed in this 40something woman.

My ugly crying is far from over, but the tentative life that springs from this wounded heart will take another stab at living....tentatively.  With or without a seemingly great guy.  With or without my family.  With or without a successful business.  But with a lot less of the Facebook activity that killed my love life.

https://youtu.be/KUUjtUP2CrE