I'm still terrified to be myself. I don't know fully who I am. A harsh women can emerge within me who wants to dictate who I am. That wants to live under a hard shell of perfectionism. Guided by the countless images I see, read, hear about, or self- create that provide of certainty beneath their mask and armored wall. This offers protection from facing this insecurity of not feeling valuable, but their is a cost. Not allowing myself to face that tension ignores reality and denies my soul the freedom my Creator made for me. Sometimes I get tastes of myself, but I feel so intertwined to my autonomy from God sometimes. I long for heaven in many ways when I am truly rid of those chains. Sometimes I can feel the shackles fall off and other times I find myself watching myself put them back on. Sometimes when I feel like I can't see past that harsh woman, I will think about what I would want for Ellie. When the perfectionist emmerges and I find myself drowning, in her demands, I can start to taste air by thinking about how and what I would want for Ellie and then slowly intertwining that to myself. I am beginning to learn the rhythm of grace. To taste the freedom my savior brings. Maybe that's the whole idea of an Angel who loves beer.
I feel inspired by the tastes of humanity that I get that are in touch with who they are and freedom from things like legalism and perfectionism that lead them away from the Savior. Scripture has taken a new depth. Writings of Larry Crab, Glennon Manning. Learning from people like Marna, Stephen, my Husband, Ellie, and Reid. I feel curious by the humans I am surrounded by.
Simple things are taking a new depth. I nearly started crying in my yoga class this evening because I was struck by how amazing it was to be able to get to be in touch with how it felt to stretch out or feel my shoulder blades resting beneath me-- to get to be fully engaged with the moment. My heart was resting with my savior.
Who am I?
I really love and feel proud of my family.
I like the voice and the bachelor.
Crocs. I really like crocs.
I enjoy new things.
I like workout clothes.
I like cars. Like I really enjoy getting to name them.
MacIntosh apples. My all-time favorite snack.
I enjoy good food.
I like accesories.
I enjoy rich and deep conversation.
I enjoy being with people, even if it is not talking.
I like to learn.
I like organization.
I like to bake and cook.
Walking.
Being active.
Candles. I love the smell and the flicker.
Decorating.
Clutter free kitchen tables.
To be is to listen to myself and know the song of my heart. For from the heart the mouth speaks. For the heart is the wellspring of life.
Peace is what my heart longs for and I feel like I am getting to watch it's presence slip into my life. I am starting to be able to be spontaneous. I am starting to get to actually listen to people and be curious. I am starting to get to to be still, in the Jessica way. Which, in tangible form, can look like the opposite of physical stillness, but like my soul. My soul is actually getting to be still and find rest.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Baby Countdown Jitters.
I feel everywhere on the board when it comes to meeting this sweet little bundle.
I have honestly spent more time today trying to figure out if I want a Beco Baby Carrier or a Boba Baby Carrier today then just being.
Thats okay.
I know it comes from the passion inside me that sits, twisted, but freaking beautiful. Honestly, I don't really know what you will be like. My mind can't quite grip the idea of you, a real human creation that sits in my belly, a skin, and uterus layer, away from the outside world.
What will it be like to be a mommy to this new nugget and be the mommy to my other precious child?
I don't know. But I do feel pretty certain that once I have a baby carrier heaven will have arrived on earth.
What will it be like to finish school and move towards my dreams. But, what would it look like to be, here, present and engaged with what is right in front of me. With my sweet girl laying on the concrete pointing with her finger at the ants crawling and with my sweet girl while she is having a tantrum and hitting me as I tell her she can not stand in the shopping cart at Target. What would it look like to be there, in those moments?
I think it looks like exactly what I am doing now, baby carrier contemplating and all. Because I am certain that our Father is looking down at me sort of smiling. No disappointment, just saying,
"Yeah girl!" And beckoning me and enticing me towards sweet love.
There is no shame.
I want to sit behind my self-protective pretenses, in whatever form they take shape.
Today a baby carrier tomorrow, maybe the baby monitors I still need? ha.
But honestly, I can tell you I am nervous. I don't know what mothering two will look like and I want to do it perfectly.
Because the alternative would be depending on God and part of my soul is desperate for anything but creating my own salvation.
Oh, Jesus. I know I am not crazy. I also am not as shaken by these illegal things as I once was. There is hope, there, but also just deeper and new layers that I uncover that this side of heaven are not going to subside. Would you soften those layers that want to harden and stay on. Would you expose those and give me wisdom on how to and when to speak?
Here I sit.
I have honestly spent more time today trying to figure out if I want a Beco Baby Carrier or a Boba Baby Carrier today then just being.
Thats okay.
I know it comes from the passion inside me that sits, twisted, but freaking beautiful. Honestly, I don't really know what you will be like. My mind can't quite grip the idea of you, a real human creation that sits in my belly, a skin, and uterus layer, away from the outside world.
What will it be like to be a mommy to this new nugget and be the mommy to my other precious child?
I don't know. But I do feel pretty certain that once I have a baby carrier heaven will have arrived on earth.
What will it be like to finish school and move towards my dreams. But, what would it look like to be, here, present and engaged with what is right in front of me. With my sweet girl laying on the concrete pointing with her finger at the ants crawling and with my sweet girl while she is having a tantrum and hitting me as I tell her she can not stand in the shopping cart at Target. What would it look like to be there, in those moments?
I think it looks like exactly what I am doing now, baby carrier contemplating and all. Because I am certain that our Father is looking down at me sort of smiling. No disappointment, just saying,
"Yeah girl!" And beckoning me and enticing me towards sweet love.
There is no shame.
I want to sit behind my self-protective pretenses, in whatever form they take shape.
Today a baby carrier tomorrow, maybe the baby monitors I still need? ha.
But honestly, I can tell you I am nervous. I don't know what mothering two will look like and I want to do it perfectly.
Because the alternative would be depending on God and part of my soul is desperate for anything but creating my own salvation.
Oh, Jesus. I know I am not crazy. I also am not as shaken by these illegal things as I once was. There is hope, there, but also just deeper and new layers that I uncover that this side of heaven are not going to subside. Would you soften those layers that want to harden and stay on. Would you expose those and give me wisdom on how to and when to speak?Here I sit.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Red dot.
Larry Crab calls it your red dot.
I guess you can say I'm still into him. I trust my father-in-law.
Who I know trusts Larry.
Which makes me feel like he's a safe guy to unpack christianity and the internal and spiritual world. And I happen to find that as my heart catches up to my head, the stuff he unpacks about these realities, really is the stuff Jesus talks about.
So, that red dot. Its what you see going on internally, presently, NOW.
Maybe it happens to be descriptors and information about the stuff going on, but he beckons a deeper look at what is beneath that.
I still like descriptors. Processing brings me to that Red Dot. So here are my attached strings, my spiral, my junk that will maybe bring me there.
I'm snuggled into Rand's comfortable sweats and a sweatshirt because I feel really uncomfortable. I feel like I wear them in part because yes, they still are comfortable and I'm cold, but also to mask the internal realities that I am feeling.
Part of me feels not valuable in this comfort because I feel insecure about how my appearance. It feels like there is a club of the "cute pregnant lady" that I shift in and out of wanting to be a part of and that jostle's that insecurity. I feel like I am looked upon more highly when I strap on my competition mask, which often takes on the form of (sometimes) incredibly uncomfortable, tight fitting clothing that boasts my bump, but suffocates my already limited breathing space.
Another seems to be shame.
I feel like I should be more active and I am ashamed that I am not. Talk about intermixed passions. I happen to love exercise. Since about 25 weeks pregnancy has been incredibly difficult for me and I feel worn down.
But I feel like that is just an excuse and thats where the harshness seems to jump out.
I get that it's not all or nothing. Work out everyday or don't ever, but the gray is difficult for me to navigate admist the rollercoaster of transitions I feel between parenting a 1.5 year old and the babe in my belly. It leaves me worn down and not ready to enter the junk that surfaces when I excercise.
I guess I'm just not a big enough person right now.
That spirals me into another.
My head goes to. Well if your not a big enough person to exercise right now, how the hell are you going to be able to delivery a baby naturally.
I've got no armor against that one and it is likely 3/4 of what prompted me doing Yoga this morning.
And to try and find the perfect words for my birth plan.
And to try and suck Rand into it all.
Which is half of what brought me into a low and meltdown yesterday evening.
Don't get me wrong, 10 hours with your 1.5 year old is never all rainbows and butterflies.
Nor is not getting an opportunity to connect with you husband at the start of your week or sort through conflict.
But it felt like there was more beneath that. That those things were just the lava coming out of the real volcano.
In that moment I desperately needed my cocaine, people, because I did not feel okay. Nor did I want to give myself room to cry, I wanted to fight, victimize myself and pull someone else into my misery.
Part of me felt shame over this because my head even knew what I was doing.
All the harsh words sat on the tip of my tongue, a few escaping before I was able to give myself space.
Ironically, space for me typically looks like the back corner of my bedroom closet, where it is dark and I feel safe, so there I went.
I let the pain out, releasing it, as my heart so desperately needed. The wound of feeling rejecting over the past few days flowing out with the tears.
So I think thats where my red dot was at. I felt rejection and it hurt, lots.
Ironically, I felt able to rejoin my family in the basement. Sitting in silence initially and then playing with them and a zillion little plastic balls when I felt able. I feel like my heart got to feel the release there.
Its funny. I started writing this Wednesday. As I finish it I'm reminded of the roller coaster that my heart can sometime feel it is on.
Little Ellie got a mosquito bite on her eye lid that swelled up like a baseball bat. She doesn't react too well to bites just like her momma. I'm just beginning to digest and catch up to where my heart, and red dot, has been there.
So cheers to blog writing, my fall candle, jug of water, fresh grapes, digesting handful of fall colored m&m's and to finding a warm soup recipe on pinterest.
Happy Friday.
I guess you can say I'm still into him. I trust my father-in-law.
Who I know trusts Larry.
Which makes me feel like he's a safe guy to unpack christianity and the internal and spiritual world. And I happen to find that as my heart catches up to my head, the stuff he unpacks about these realities, really is the stuff Jesus talks about.
So, that red dot. Its what you see going on internally, presently, NOW.
Maybe it happens to be descriptors and information about the stuff going on, but he beckons a deeper look at what is beneath that.
I still like descriptors. Processing brings me to that Red Dot. So here are my attached strings, my spiral, my junk that will maybe bring me there.
I'm snuggled into Rand's comfortable sweats and a sweatshirt because I feel really uncomfortable. I feel like I wear them in part because yes, they still are comfortable and I'm cold, but also to mask the internal realities that I am feeling.
Part of me feels not valuable in this comfort because I feel insecure about how my appearance. It feels like there is a club of the "cute pregnant lady" that I shift in and out of wanting to be a part of and that jostle's that insecurity. I feel like I am looked upon more highly when I strap on my competition mask, which often takes on the form of (sometimes) incredibly uncomfortable, tight fitting clothing that boasts my bump, but suffocates my already limited breathing space.
Another seems to be shame.
I feel like I should be more active and I am ashamed that I am not. Talk about intermixed passions. I happen to love exercise. Since about 25 weeks pregnancy has been incredibly difficult for me and I feel worn down.
But I feel like that is just an excuse and thats where the harshness seems to jump out.
I get that it's not all or nothing. Work out everyday or don't ever, but the gray is difficult for me to navigate admist the rollercoaster of transitions I feel between parenting a 1.5 year old and the babe in my belly. It leaves me worn down and not ready to enter the junk that surfaces when I excercise.
I guess I'm just not a big enough person right now.
That spirals me into another.
My head goes to. Well if your not a big enough person to exercise right now, how the hell are you going to be able to delivery a baby naturally.
I've got no armor against that one and it is likely 3/4 of what prompted me doing Yoga this morning.
And to try and find the perfect words for my birth plan.
And to try and suck Rand into it all.
Which is half of what brought me into a low and meltdown yesterday evening.
Don't get me wrong, 10 hours with your 1.5 year old is never all rainbows and butterflies.
Nor is not getting an opportunity to connect with you husband at the start of your week or sort through conflict.
But it felt like there was more beneath that. That those things were just the lava coming out of the real volcano.
In that moment I desperately needed my cocaine, people, because I did not feel okay. Nor did I want to give myself room to cry, I wanted to fight, victimize myself and pull someone else into my misery.
Part of me felt shame over this because my head even knew what I was doing.
All the harsh words sat on the tip of my tongue, a few escaping before I was able to give myself space.
Ironically, space for me typically looks like the back corner of my bedroom closet, where it is dark and I feel safe, so there I went.
I let the pain out, releasing it, as my heart so desperately needed. The wound of feeling rejecting over the past few days flowing out with the tears.
So I think thats where my red dot was at. I felt rejection and it hurt, lots.Ironically, I felt able to rejoin my family in the basement. Sitting in silence initially and then playing with them and a zillion little plastic balls when I felt able. I feel like my heart got to feel the release there.
Its funny. I started writing this Wednesday. As I finish it I'm reminded of the roller coaster that my heart can sometime feel it is on.
Little Ellie got a mosquito bite on her eye lid that swelled up like a baseball bat. She doesn't react too well to bites just like her momma. I'm just beginning to digest and catch up to where my heart, and red dot, has been there.
So cheers to blog writing, my fall candle, jug of water, fresh grapes, digesting handful of fall colored m&m's and to finding a warm soup recipe on pinterest.
Happy Friday.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Prickly porcupine.
I've been reflecting a bit lately. Today, as I was sweeping the patio, it struck me how at peace I felt. My day had no agenda outside of a doctor appointment and I was completely okay with that.
NO. Even past okay. I was enjoying it. Seriously.
I was savoring watching Ellie play with her stroller.
Struck by the beautiful weather.
And was even dreaming about what I was going to bake next.
This was after a content time of putting away dishes even...
Over lunch I began to put words to this peace with Rand and I wanted to, again, process through where I feel I am.
It began when I started counseling.
At first it had just been our premarital counseling.
Then, after Rand's dad had mentioned he thinks that it is helpful for couples to have "routine maintenance" done, it continued.
Then, Rand's dad mentioned to me this group he has all his employees go through on codependency and I thought, eh, why not? I laugh now because honestly it could have been a cult and I would've trusted him and gone. I had no idea what codependent meant, really.
Then I started to go to my own individual sessions once a month.
Something awakened in my heart. My soul, really.
And HOLY HELL, did the beast get unleashed, which I now commonly refer to as the F*** you woman.
That woman was so incredibly angry. It was like an explosion, really. I had botteled up all of my emotions for so long, not really allowing myself to truly feel the emotions life brings us through like anger, saddness, and even happyness. I had been spinning in the same circle for so long. It had to come out, really. But it had been bottled up for so long that it was like a tea kettle that had been simmering and simmering and then finally let to steam out. That loud ass whistle that you hear when that water is done seems octives quieter than how my soul felt.
So there I was, this angry, bitter woman. For the wrong that had been to me and that I had done to myself. I sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen to me again.
Up the walls came. With spikes on the end and grenades waiting past those. I was not going to be hurt again.
I was so incredibly defensive. On edge, still am at times, honestly. I wouldn't let most people in. There was an incredibly small VIP list and more often then not those people didn't even make the cut.
But a small few stuck around, including my husband, and especially my counselor, Marna.
I was laughing, near tears, about this one on monday night. I was the biggest damn porcupine in the whole country and I had no idea why I felt so alone. Most people don't like to be around porcupines, their thorns hurt. I'm grateful for the few that stuck by me in that mess. There love for me brings me tears, as I type now.
They didn't punish me.
They didn't play games with me.
They let me be and still tried to love me the best they could in that.
My soul learned the love Jesus talks about in that time. Like it tasted it.
I've hurt many in that part of my journey.
The accuser, so quick to judge, so stark and harsh to myself and others.
My husband.
My parents.
My sisters.
My in-laws.
My friends.
I feel sadness and sorrow for that, tears are filling my eyes now.
But I know that that part of my journey is what gave me a taste of true life.
For so long the mountains and valleys have felt so high and so low and so on top of each other.
But I notice, they aren't as high and low, faster to work through, and more few and far between.
I'm still an attict. An approval seeker. A perfectionist.
But I'm in withdrawl.
Often, I want to give in to my version of cocaine.
That voice that tells me I have to get my finances figured out before I can go to Target.
That I need approval from my husband to buy clothes that fit my growing body.
That voice that says what a true friend should look like to numb out the silence that sits.
But. Eh. Maybe fixing all that isn't even really the point?
NO. Even past okay. I was enjoying it. Seriously.
I was savoring watching Ellie play with her stroller.
Struck by the beautiful weather.
And was even dreaming about what I was going to bake next.
This was after a content time of putting away dishes even...
Over lunch I began to put words to this peace with Rand and I wanted to, again, process through where I feel I am.
It began when I started counseling.
At first it had just been our premarital counseling.
Then, after Rand's dad had mentioned he thinks that it is helpful for couples to have "routine maintenance" done, it continued.
Then, Rand's dad mentioned to me this group he has all his employees go through on codependency and I thought, eh, why not? I laugh now because honestly it could have been a cult and I would've trusted him and gone. I had no idea what codependent meant, really.
Then I started to go to my own individual sessions once a month.
Something awakened in my heart. My soul, really.
And HOLY HELL, did the beast get unleashed, which I now commonly refer to as the F*** you woman.
That woman was so incredibly angry. It was like an explosion, really. I had botteled up all of my emotions for so long, not really allowing myself to truly feel the emotions life brings us through like anger, saddness, and even happyness. I had been spinning in the same circle for so long. It had to come out, really. But it had been bottled up for so long that it was like a tea kettle that had been simmering and simmering and then finally let to steam out. That loud ass whistle that you hear when that water is done seems octives quieter than how my soul felt.
So there I was, this angry, bitter woman. For the wrong that had been to me and that I had done to myself. I sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen to me again.
Up the walls came. With spikes on the end and grenades waiting past those. I was not going to be hurt again.
I was so incredibly defensive. On edge, still am at times, honestly. I wouldn't let most people in. There was an incredibly small VIP list and more often then not those people didn't even make the cut.
But a small few stuck around, including my husband, and especially my counselor, Marna.
I was laughing, near tears, about this one on monday night. I was the biggest damn porcupine in the whole country and I had no idea why I felt so alone. Most people don't like to be around porcupines, their thorns hurt. I'm grateful for the few that stuck by me in that mess. There love for me brings me tears, as I type now.
They didn't punish me.
They didn't play games with me.
They let me be and still tried to love me the best they could in that.
My soul learned the love Jesus talks about in that time. Like it tasted it.
I've hurt many in that part of my journey.
The accuser, so quick to judge, so stark and harsh to myself and others.
My husband.
My parents.
My sisters.
My in-laws.
My friends.
I feel sadness and sorrow for that, tears are filling my eyes now.
But I know that that part of my journey is what gave me a taste of true life.
For so long the mountains and valleys have felt so high and so low and so on top of each other.
But I notice, they aren't as high and low, faster to work through, and more few and far between.
I'm still an attict. An approval seeker. A perfectionist.
But I'm in withdrawl.
Often, I want to give in to my version of cocaine.
That voice that tells me I have to get my finances figured out before I can go to Target.
That I need approval from my husband to buy clothes that fit my growing body.
That voice that says what a true friend should look like to numb out the silence that sits.
But. Eh. Maybe fixing all that isn't even really the point?
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
A little bit of Larry.
I may have mentioned this before, but I don't often finish things.
The last episode of the Office still has yet to be watched.
Prison Break's last few episodes are unplayed.
And I have started, stopped, paged through and skipped over countless textbooks, fiction, and nonfiction novels alike.
Maybe one day it will change, but for right now, I don't feel the urge to finish, and I don't like library late fees...
I find it doesn't take me very far, especially in authors like Larry Crabb, to relate to what I am reading. Its not a bunch of bull shit, try harder, figure out the right choice and make it, legalistic vomit, it truly engages the human soul and beckons an honest questioning of what realities are occurring internally.
And that, that is stuff I will read. I'm really not all that into trying to walk the moralistic line that can often be heard at your sunday service. If that makes me a radical, well. okay. I'm in.
Before I share the part of Larry's Book that struck me, I want to share a bit of my brokeness.
I think I know things. Like the head knowledge of my years in counseling have taught me things about the human heart, condition and reality. The truth is, they have, but primarily about my own condition. A condition that others have, but whose stories are different. Something in me really thinks I have this thing figured out. I really do judge people.
I saw it in it's starkness the other day as Rand and I were entering the mall. We were having a conversation about some people he knows. Audibly spoken or not to Rand, I had judged the people we had spoken of based on how they were living. The word's Rand spoke, I don't even think he knew at the time were speaking straight to those thoughts. Not in a rub it in your face, see your junk type of way. But truly in a gentle, humbling, way that pulled tears from my eyes as I saw in clarity my sin.
What broke my heart about my sin is that I really have no idea. I think that I know what goes on. I think that I can mind-read and know heart motivations, but I don't. Not fully.
So there we were at the mall. Something in my heart really longs to listen, to hear, to trust, to be hurt, to forgive. What I do know is that same judgement that is cast on others is how my heart truly feels about myself. It's that same harsh, controlling woman that is there. Repentence is where I long to sit, lie, and bathe in.
Fast forward to church on Sunday where we were singing "Man of Sorrows"
http://youtu.be/s7ZJ5D5q54g.
VERSE 4
Sent of heaven God's own Son
To purchase and redeem
And reconcile the very ones
Who nailed Him to that tree
CHORUS
Oh that rugged cross my salvation
Where Your love poured out over me
Now my soul cries out Hallelujah
Praise and honour unto Thee
BRIDGE
Now my debt is paid
It is paid in full
By the precious blood
That my Jesus spilled
Now the curse of sin
Has no hold on me
Whom the Son sets free
Oh is free indeed
And I couldn't keep the tears back in my eyes, still can't now listening to it again.
My sin is so stark. My judgment so quick and bitter.
The fourth verse's words, the chorus, and the bridge I will share.
My heart is starting to catch up with my head.
I know my debt is paid by the precious blood of Jesus. The curse of sin doesn't have a hold on me any longer and I am free. Redemption through that Mercy. mhmm
I know my debt is paid by the precious blood of Jesus. The curse of sin doesn't have a hold on me any longer and I am free. Redemption through that Mercy. mhmm
Free to fail.
Free to be honest with myself and others.
Free to repent. or not.
Free to experience a love that knows not the ways of brokeness.
That is the type of love I want to sprint towards. That is the kind of love I want to lavish in and give myself over to.
Fast forward to the sermon part of the service now. I wasn't big enough to stay present with it, so I pulled out Larry. This was actually the part of my blog that I had intended to process through, but I'm not sure if that is the point anymore. I'll share anyway from the beginning of Chapter 2:
Fast forward to the sermon part of the service now. I wasn't big enough to stay present with it, so I pulled out Larry. This was actually the part of my blog that I had intended to process through, but I'm not sure if that is the point anymore. I'll share anyway from the beginning of Chapter 2:
"We need each other, never more than when we are most broken. But brokeness is not a disease, like cancer, that may or may not develop. Brokenness is a condition, one that is always there, inside, beneath the surface, carefully hidden for as long as we can keep a facade in place. We live in brokenness. We just don't always see it, either in ourselves or in others.
A central task of community is to create a place that is safe enough for the walls to be torn down, safe enough for each of us to own and reveal our brokeness. Only then can the power of connecting do its job. Only then can community be used of God to restore our souls.
When we turn our chairs to face each other, the first things we see is a terrible fact: We're all struggling. Beneath the surface of every personality--- even the one that seems most "together"--a spiritual battle is raging that will only be won with the help of community. Think with me about the nature of that battle and what kind of community might help."
When I read that in retrospeck of my sin, I'm struck by the normalacy of it. The normalacy however cannot mask the ugliness, but it reminds me that it is always there, always operating under the surface.
But.
What if it was more about it's reveal then the actual sin. What if my marriage was full of the same type of restoration Larry describes and the one offered by Jesus in the song above.
I want to live in that type of community, but it terrifies me. But, whether I choose to or not, the truth is still the same. We really are still struggling. The war is raging. Guns are drawn.
The healing can occur, it will occur. I've tasted it. I still taste it. But the risk is real. Man of Sorrows speaks of it in its other verses. Betrayl. Sorrow.
But freedom too. True freedom.
I don't want to keep my facade on. but i do. but i don't.
I long to take my mask off with my husband. ellie. this babe. my family. friends.
I long to show them mercy with the same gentleness I tasted this weekend at the mall. My heart is actually started to desire that more then my head. And that sort of change I cannot amount to my hand.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
7/29/14
Well. I have noticed my heart feeling adrift these past two days. It grates at me that I don't know where its coming from, that I am human and that doing the best I can doesn't come close to my standards.
I want to process where I feel like the harshness is coming from.
As I speak my child is crying because she doesn't want to nap. I should know how to calm her down, the voice says. It judges my parenting ability and I am left feeling insecure or wanting to perform as a mother.
Yesterday, I enjoyed a delightful binge watching my new favorite Netflix show, Orange is the New Black and escaping in the conclusion of the bachelorette. What a waste of time, the voice says. It whispers accusatory claims like "your lazy" and "you shouldn't have enjoyed yourself so much".
Yesterday, I also enjoyed a splendid amount of my favorite licorice from trader joes. Yummy, my tummy says. Your gaining wait to rapidly this pregnancy, the voice says. It taunts me saying that "if you keep this up, your going to get even bigger then you need to".
Sunday I enjoyed flipping through some family photos that were recently taken. What I longed to be precious memories felt overtaken and insecurity flared. Why are you so uptight, it's written all over your face the voice said. It fanned the flame of justification of why I deserve to buy new things so I can hide beneath the insecurity I can feel over my appearance.
So here I sit today. I have found myself fleeing to the comfort of errands, performing for Ellie, and busying myself with cooking muffins. I haven't allowed myself to watch a blink of Orange is the New Black and have promised myself that I will go to the gym.
The thoughts seem so oddly familiar and I know this cycle well. I need grace and gentleness today, Jesus.
I wish I was bigger, but today I am not. So here I will sit. Here I will wait.
I want to process where I feel like the harshness is coming from.
As I speak my child is crying because she doesn't want to nap. I should know how to calm her down, the voice says. It judges my parenting ability and I am left feeling insecure or wanting to perform as a mother.
Yesterday, I enjoyed a delightful binge watching my new favorite Netflix show, Orange is the New Black and escaping in the conclusion of the bachelorette. What a waste of time, the voice says. It whispers accusatory claims like "your lazy" and "you shouldn't have enjoyed yourself so much".
Yesterday, I also enjoyed a splendid amount of my favorite licorice from trader joes. Yummy, my tummy says. Your gaining wait to rapidly this pregnancy, the voice says. It taunts me saying that "if you keep this up, your going to get even bigger then you need to".
Sunday I enjoyed flipping through some family photos that were recently taken. What I longed to be precious memories felt overtaken and insecurity flared. Why are you so uptight, it's written all over your face the voice said. It fanned the flame of justification of why I deserve to buy new things so I can hide beneath the insecurity I can feel over my appearance.
So here I sit today. I have found myself fleeing to the comfort of errands, performing for Ellie, and busying myself with cooking muffins. I haven't allowed myself to watch a blink of Orange is the New Black and have promised myself that I will go to the gym.
The thoughts seem so oddly familiar and I know this cycle well. I need grace and gentleness today, Jesus.
I wish I was bigger, but today I am not. So here I will sit. Here I will wait.
Friday, June 13, 2014
My Current Threshold.
This week I learned something that struck my heart and I find myself sitting in while I cry and type these words.
Right now the threshold between me feeling valued as a person and triggers feels incredibly close. Underneath the triggers rests the layers of pain where I have felt that I am not valuable as a person. Those triggers still feel like mountains to me, which I know in my head tells me there is much to be grieved yet still. The line is quite thin and it feels like this past month has seemed to jostle it with little rest in-between the waves.
I finally had the courage to start reapplying for jobs. This is a big step for me because I don't have it figured out what it will look like if I was to start working again. Who would watch Ellie? Would I be able to handle the stress? What about baby #2? What about breastfeeding? What if there isn't even anything that interest's me? What if there is something that interests me and what I have to offer isn't enough? What if... Those have been past paralyzing thoughts.
I have my passions and my heart to offer and often, those don't feel like they are enough.
So just applying for jobs was a huge victory for me. Yesterday, I received word that I did not get an interview at either of those jobs. That was hard for me because both of those jobs were the only ones in the area that I felt interested in.
I gave myself permission to feel sad a little bit, but I notice that I suppressed some of how that made me feel. I know that my value doesn't come from whether I get an interview or not. But it still made me feel sad. I want to let it be sad, but I feel scared of what that means. It is all still quite puzzleing for me.
Today, I got a shot at learning about another open position that seems like it could be fitting, but also terrifies me. As I navigate and process it has triggered that paper thin threshold. Leaving my heart feeling the incredibly weight of feeling insignificant and not valued.
As I process the whys of this and try to navigate the pain it troubles me what it leaves me with--shame. Shame over how the choices that I have made have brought this upon myself. The truth feels so distant and that too makes me sad.
So here I sit. Left in the sadness. With little left other then to cry out to the one who longs to listen. What does it look like right now as a mother, wife, and just me, Jessica, to feel valued amidst this pain. I hold fast to the truth that He will listen and be with me as I navigate this tender threshold of my personal value as a being.
Right now the threshold between me feeling valued as a person and triggers feels incredibly close. Underneath the triggers rests the layers of pain where I have felt that I am not valuable as a person. Those triggers still feel like mountains to me, which I know in my head tells me there is much to be grieved yet still. The line is quite thin and it feels like this past month has seemed to jostle it with little rest in-between the waves.
I finally had the courage to start reapplying for jobs. This is a big step for me because I don't have it figured out what it will look like if I was to start working again. Who would watch Ellie? Would I be able to handle the stress? What about baby #2? What about breastfeeding? What if there isn't even anything that interest's me? What if there is something that interests me and what I have to offer isn't enough? What if... Those have been past paralyzing thoughts.
I have my passions and my heart to offer and often, those don't feel like they are enough.
So just applying for jobs was a huge victory for me. Yesterday, I received word that I did not get an interview at either of those jobs. That was hard for me because both of those jobs were the only ones in the area that I felt interested in.
I gave myself permission to feel sad a little bit, but I notice that I suppressed some of how that made me feel. I know that my value doesn't come from whether I get an interview or not. But it still made me feel sad. I want to let it be sad, but I feel scared of what that means. It is all still quite puzzleing for me.
Today, I got a shot at learning about another open position that seems like it could be fitting, but also terrifies me. As I navigate and process it has triggered that paper thin threshold. Leaving my heart feeling the incredibly weight of feeling insignificant and not valued.
As I process the whys of this and try to navigate the pain it troubles me what it leaves me with--shame. Shame over how the choices that I have made have brought this upon myself. The truth feels so distant and that too makes me sad.
So here I sit. Left in the sadness. With little left other then to cry out to the one who longs to listen. What does it look like right now as a mother, wife, and just me, Jessica, to feel valued amidst this pain. I hold fast to the truth that He will listen and be with me as I navigate this tender threshold of my personal value as a being.
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