Yesterday a friend told me that she was pretty sure summer would be the best part of being a teacher.
My immediate response was that yes, summer is definitely the best part of my job, but as I thought about it today, I remembered that it wasn't always that way. The first few summers were lonely and boring, particularly my first summer here in Dallas. It was nice to have two months off work, but sitting at home all day by myself wasn't all that thrilling. In fact, it was pretty depressing.
This summer (so far) has been the best yet. As of a few weeks ago, I'm completely off ALL my depression and anxiety meds for the first time in almost three years, and I feel great. This time last year, I thought this day would never come, but by the grace of God, it did. Just thinking about the healing and change in my life makes me smile uncontrollably. I'm also babysitting part time for a family that I adore, and they just happen to love me right back. I wake up in the mornings excited to head to their house to see what the boys and their mom have planned for our day. And we went to the lake last weekend with our new community group and had a great time, AND I made it home without getting sunburned. June is going great so far.
There are still some changes going on that I don't like or understand, but at the moment I'm so thrilled with the blessings of this week that I've been able to put those fears aside. I can see how some of these difficult situations are opening up new opportunities that I never thought I'd have, but it's still hard. I want things to be the same. I want my own way.
I want what I know... even though what I'm getting may be better.
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Monday, June 14, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
a broken toe
2010 isn't off to the greatest of starts. We're not quite three weeks into January, and so far my grandmother has died, I've lost my voice, and I've broken a toe. Not a stellar beginning to say the least.
Last week was pretty awful. I sang at my grandmother's funeral (which is plenty sad all on its own) with a horrible sore throat, and I've been varying degrees of hoarse ever since. Then Tuesday when I could hardly speak at all, I broke my toe at school... during first period, nonetheless. I spent the rest of the week hobbling around AND unable to speak. Lovely.
That's the kind of week that used to send me into a steep downward spiral, but this time it hasn't because despite the difficult things going on in my life, I'm in a much better place now than I was this time last year. It's not that I'm not frustrated because I am. I'm not looking forward to weeks without being able to exercise, and I'm dying to sing again... but neither is the end of the world. The events of my life don't change the hope I have, and although I've heard that for years, this time I can see the application.
I was reminded of that huge change in perspective today at Watermark's 10th Anniversary Celebration. It was essentially a carnival with fair food and pony rides and tons of bounce houses. Super fun! But, the best part was the few minutes in the middle when we stopped to pray and thank God for all he's done. As I sat there looking around the huge crowd, I thought about all the ways I've been impacted by the people and ministries of Watermark over the past 4 1/2 years we've been there. Seeing as how I'm basically unrecognizable as the girl who walked into Lake Highlands four years ago, the list is quite long, and it still grows longer every day. I'm very blessed.
So even though I'm having a rough month, I have much to be thankful for... and a stupid broken toe doesn't have to steal my joy!
Last week was pretty awful. I sang at my grandmother's funeral (which is plenty sad all on its own) with a horrible sore throat, and I've been varying degrees of hoarse ever since. Then Tuesday when I could hardly speak at all, I broke my toe at school... during first period, nonetheless. I spent the rest of the week hobbling around AND unable to speak. Lovely.
That's the kind of week that used to send me into a steep downward spiral, but this time it hasn't because despite the difficult things going on in my life, I'm in a much better place now than I was this time last year. It's not that I'm not frustrated because I am. I'm not looking forward to weeks without being able to exercise, and I'm dying to sing again... but neither is the end of the world. The events of my life don't change the hope I have, and although I've heard that for years, this time I can see the application.
I was reminded of that huge change in perspective today at Watermark's 10th Anniversary Celebration. It was essentially a carnival with fair food and pony rides and tons of bounce houses. Super fun! But, the best part was the few minutes in the middle when we stopped to pray and thank God for all he's done. As I sat there looking around the huge crowd, I thought about all the ways I've been impacted by the people and ministries of Watermark over the past 4 1/2 years we've been there. Seeing as how I'm basically unrecognizable as the girl who walked into Lake Highlands four years ago, the list is quite long, and it still grows longer every day. I'm very blessed.
So even though I'm having a rough month, I have much to be thankful for... and a stupid broken toe doesn't have to steal my joy!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
one year later
Christmas Eve at Watermark is one of my favorite things. It's the primary reason I fight to have Christmas at my house every year, and I look forward to it for weeks. The service isn't all that different from plenty of others throughout the year, so I'm not sure what makes it so exciting for me. Maybe it's the hot chocolate or going in the middle of the night... whatever it is, I love it.
Last year was different. In the weeks leading up to Christmas I was really questioning my decision to stay at Watermark. After three years, I still felt invisible in the thousands of people, and I truly believed that if I never came back no one would really care. Even though I loved many things about Watermark I felt very alone, and I wasn't sure if the good was enough to balance the loneliness. But, on Christmas Eve I put the dread aside and dragged myself to the service, and that's when everything changed.
I expected a typical service, but rather than only singing happy Christmas carols and lighting candles, we celebrated stories of life change. Not all pretty stories of life change either. Hard, painful, uncomfortable pasts turned into futures filled with life and hope. Real, honest people changed by the birth and death of Christ... the reason Christmas happened. As I read the simple, silent testimonies written on plain brown cardboard I connected and remembered why I belonged, and I haven't questioned it since.
Tomorrow they're doing the same thing. I know because this year I'M one of the cardboard people. A friend on staff asked me last week if I'd be willing to share my story of grace, and although it's way outside of my comfort zone, I said yes. After all, it's silent, so all I had to do was come up with two phrases for my sign (harder than it sounds...) and turn it around on cue. Scary, but totally doable!
The more challenging part has been coming around to the idea that I'm one of "those" people... that I have a story that anyone cares to hear. Luckily I wasn't terribly attached to that belief because it's been shot down repeatedly this week. More than once someone has cried when I told her what my sign will say. I do see that God has done wonderful things in my life in the past few years, and this year especially I've changed a lot. But I didn't see ME as the type of person who God uses to bring others that kind of joy. Well, I didn't see myself as the type of person God used to bring any kind of joy but certainly not joy so powerful it produces tears.
Anyway, even though it's pretty unlike me, I'm super excited about tomorrow. I get to tell people what God has done in MY life. Thousands of people (that part's a little scary!). And someone will read my words and connect just like I did last year... because God can bring good from my bad. Great reason to ignore the fear!
Last year was different. In the weeks leading up to Christmas I was really questioning my decision to stay at Watermark. After three years, I still felt invisible in the thousands of people, and I truly believed that if I never came back no one would really care. Even though I loved many things about Watermark I felt very alone, and I wasn't sure if the good was enough to balance the loneliness. But, on Christmas Eve I put the dread aside and dragged myself to the service, and that's when everything changed.
I expected a typical service, but rather than only singing happy Christmas carols and lighting candles, we celebrated stories of life change. Not all pretty stories of life change either. Hard, painful, uncomfortable pasts turned into futures filled with life and hope. Real, honest people changed by the birth and death of Christ... the reason Christmas happened. As I read the simple, silent testimonies written on plain brown cardboard I connected and remembered why I belonged, and I haven't questioned it since.
Tomorrow they're doing the same thing. I know because this year I'M one of the cardboard people. A friend on staff asked me last week if I'd be willing to share my story of grace, and although it's way outside of my comfort zone, I said yes. After all, it's silent, so all I had to do was come up with two phrases for my sign (harder than it sounds...) and turn it around on cue. Scary, but totally doable!
The more challenging part has been coming around to the idea that I'm one of "those" people... that I have a story that anyone cares to hear. Luckily I wasn't terribly attached to that belief because it's been shot down repeatedly this week. More than once someone has cried when I told her what my sign will say. I do see that God has done wonderful things in my life in the past few years, and this year especially I've changed a lot. But I didn't see ME as the type of person who God uses to bring others that kind of joy. Well, I didn't see myself as the type of person God used to bring any kind of joy but certainly not joy so powerful it produces tears.
Anyway, even though it's pretty unlike me, I'm super excited about tomorrow. I get to tell people what God has done in MY life. Thousands of people (that part's a little scary!). And someone will read my words and connect just like I did last year... because God can bring good from my bad. Great reason to ignore the fear!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
the list
Yesterday I went to lunch with a friend. (That's the kind of simple sentence I'd tell my kids not to write, but luckily, I don't have a teacher on my back!) I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't the outcome I got: a challenging discussion about some of my biggest weaknesses and assignments to report back on. Yes, she gave me homework.
So because I'm me, and I do what people ask, I got started. Part one was pretty easy: make a list of the things God has done in my life this year. I definitely had plenty to say! 2009 has been difficult in many ways, but it's also been amazing. I've learned so much about who God is and who that makes me, and I've been blessed in more ways than I could ever deserve. Although I wouldn't have said it along the way, this has been a fabulous year.
Part two was quite a bit harder: share the list... with more than one person. I REALLY didn't want to do that part, but then I got an email link to her reflections on her year and absolutely loved reading what she'd written... then decided that maybe I should stop hiding and share some of what God has done in my life.
Which leads to... my list (most of it anyway)!
1. He gave me new friends in my Thursday night Bible study at a time when I was feeling really alone. My small group rocks, and I'm excited to start our second year together!
2. He gave me the courage to trust them with my story and proved me wrong when they weren't scared away by my past and continued to love and encourage me.
3. He used my story and gifts to influence another woman in that group and encourage her to pursue recovery.
4. He taught me about the true meaning of joy and helped me begin to recognize my lack of trust in Him and how that impacts my life daily.
5. He blessed me with my 5:30 Rocks girls (and grown-up friends!) who've taught me more than I possibly could have taught them. I finally found my place at Watermark.
6. He moved me out of my kindergarten comfort zone into a job where I have the emotional reserves left to face some of my deeper hurts and gave me the peace I needed to make it through the transition.
7. He perfectly orchestrated the series of events (over the past four years) that led to a precious little boy being in my homeroom this year where he knows he's wanted, and I can love and encourage him daily.
8. He gave me grace and wisdom as I wrestled with my beliefs about His goodness and character and surrounded me with people who were willing to push me forward and speak truth into that struggle. It hurt at the time, but now I'm infinitely more secure in what I believe and why I believe it. It's real rather than just being the words I always said.
9. He helped me search deep into my heart and gave me the strength and courage to begin to face the hurts I'd hidden so deeply even I couldn't see them anymore.
10. He brought me through the fall without falling into my typical deep depression. Super exciting!!!
11. He taught me about the power of memorizing scripture to combat my anxiety- being transformed by the renewing of my mind. :-)
12. He used Haley to be the tangible representation of His grace that I'm always asking for... the person I can't push away and whose love I will never be able to "earn."
13. He's showing me that I can trust Him and trust myself and don't have to seek validation from others.
14. He's continuing to move my focus and priorities more toward His own and away from my obsession with body image and performance.
15. He's helping me to daily accept that He designed me perfectly to bring Him joy, loves me unconditionally just the way I am, and can be trusted to always do what's best for me, even if it doesn't feel like it at the time. When I really stop to think about the magnitude of that truth, I always end up crying. He loves ME.
It's been a good year. I almost doubt that 2010 can compete...
So because I'm me, and I do what people ask, I got started. Part one was pretty easy: make a list of the things God has done in my life this year. I definitely had plenty to say! 2009 has been difficult in many ways, but it's also been amazing. I've learned so much about who God is and who that makes me, and I've been blessed in more ways than I could ever deserve. Although I wouldn't have said it along the way, this has been a fabulous year.
Part two was quite a bit harder: share the list... with more than one person. I REALLY didn't want to do that part, but then I got an email link to her reflections on her year and absolutely loved reading what she'd written... then decided that maybe I should stop hiding and share some of what God has done in my life.
Which leads to... my list (most of it anyway)!
1. He gave me new friends in my Thursday night Bible study at a time when I was feeling really alone. My small group rocks, and I'm excited to start our second year together!
2. He gave me the courage to trust them with my story and proved me wrong when they weren't scared away by my past and continued to love and encourage me.
3. He used my story and gifts to influence another woman in that group and encourage her to pursue recovery.
4. He taught me about the true meaning of joy and helped me begin to recognize my lack of trust in Him and how that impacts my life daily.
5. He blessed me with my 5:30 Rocks girls (and grown-up friends!) who've taught me more than I possibly could have taught them. I finally found my place at Watermark.
6. He moved me out of my kindergarten comfort zone into a job where I have the emotional reserves left to face some of my deeper hurts and gave me the peace I needed to make it through the transition.
7. He perfectly orchestrated the series of events (over the past four years) that led to a precious little boy being in my homeroom this year where he knows he's wanted, and I can love and encourage him daily.
8. He gave me grace and wisdom as I wrestled with my beliefs about His goodness and character and surrounded me with people who were willing to push me forward and speak truth into that struggle. It hurt at the time, but now I'm infinitely more secure in what I believe and why I believe it. It's real rather than just being the words I always said.
9. He helped me search deep into my heart and gave me the strength and courage to begin to face the hurts I'd hidden so deeply even I couldn't see them anymore.
10. He brought me through the fall without falling into my typical deep depression. Super exciting!!!
11. He taught me about the power of memorizing scripture to combat my anxiety- being transformed by the renewing of my mind. :-)
12. He used Haley to be the tangible representation of His grace that I'm always asking for... the person I can't push away and whose love I will never be able to "earn."
13. He's showing me that I can trust Him and trust myself and don't have to seek validation from others.
14. He's continuing to move my focus and priorities more toward His own and away from my obsession with body image and performance.
15. He's helping me to daily accept that He designed me perfectly to bring Him joy, loves me unconditionally just the way I am, and can be trusted to always do what's best for me, even if it doesn't feel like it at the time. When I really stop to think about the magnitude of that truth, I always end up crying. He loves ME.
It's been a good year. I almost doubt that 2010 can compete...
Sunday, February 1, 2009
the longest week
I started this week with exciting news: as of last Monday, I'm no longer on an antidepressant. I'm still taking my other meds for now, but hey... it's a step. The rest of the week has been varying degrees of nightmarish as I've experienced basically every withdrawal symptom ever documented.
This morning I awoke to what I hope is the light at the end of the tunnel. I can stand up without losing my balance. I don't want to scream at everyone around me. I think I might make it through school tomorrow without wanting to cry. I feel like myself again, and that's a huge relief. The true test will be to see how I feel in a month, two months, six months...
Part of me doubts that my mood will remain stable without this drug (it's the first thing that had any lasting impact on my mood swings), and the rest wonders if that's selling myself and God short. I'm not the same person who started this particular medication almost 18 months ago. Even this week, as I felt so overwhelmed I could hardly breathe, I turned to Him... to His promises to give me strength and never leave me or give me more than I can handle... and I made it through.
I'm both anxious and encouraged for the days to come... to see what healing and life they will hold!
This morning I awoke to what I hope is the light at the end of the tunnel. I can stand up without losing my balance. I don't want to scream at everyone around me. I think I might make it through school tomorrow without wanting to cry. I feel like myself again, and that's a huge relief. The true test will be to see how I feel in a month, two months, six months...
Part of me doubts that my mood will remain stable without this drug (it's the first thing that had any lasting impact on my mood swings), and the rest wonders if that's selling myself and God short. I'm not the same person who started this particular medication almost 18 months ago. Even this week, as I felt so overwhelmed I could hardly breathe, I turned to Him... to His promises to give me strength and never leave me or give me more than I can handle... and I made it through.
I'm both anxious and encouraged for the days to come... to see what healing and life they will hold!
Monday, December 22, 2008
avoidance
I have an assignment I've been avoiding for, oh, about two months now that sounds relatively easy on the surface: journal about what I believe God is teaching me through the current events of my life.
At the moment I've given up on completing the actual assignment, and I've taken to looking at what about this assignment has driven me to avoid it for so long. I think it's pretty simple: I'm afraid to admit what I fear God may be trying to teach me. If I keep avoiding, it might not happen, right?
If I had to pick a theme for my life since August, the obvious choice would be loneliness. The significant community I'd created over the past year and a half has shrunken to only a small core... the safety net I'd come to rely on was pulled out from under me, and I still don't like it. Looking back, I was maybe a bit too reliant on the opinion and advice of others at the expense of listening to and searching for what God had to say, and over the past few months I've definitely been given the opportunity to get myself out of that habit: when I had nowhere else to turn, I became more willing to turn to the Bible for support for my feelings and beliefs.
The topic this week of the small group I lead was purity... more specifically the idea that if we desire purity we have to listen to, obey, and TRUST God... and, as always, I'm pretty sure I learned more than the girls. I'm struggling with the trust piece right now. I don't like the lesson I'm learning or the road it might be leading me down, and I want life to go my way. I want the good without the struggles, the growth without the pain. The resistance is most obvious when faced with the statement that when it comes to relationship, God alone has to be enough. I immediately pull back. I can accept that idea cognitively, but my heart still begs for something tangible. A person to hold me when I'm crying. Someone to speak words I hear with my ears. A place to physically run when life feels unbearable.
So what do I fear? I fear that learning to accept that God can comfort and love me without any help may mean this is only the beginning of my season of loneliness. I fear that THIS is the reason my community has been stripped away and my attempts to rebuild it have been met with frustration and failure.
Well, I guess I'm finished with my assignment now...
At the moment I've given up on completing the actual assignment, and I've taken to looking at what about this assignment has driven me to avoid it for so long. I think it's pretty simple: I'm afraid to admit what I fear God may be trying to teach me. If I keep avoiding, it might not happen, right?
If I had to pick a theme for my life since August, the obvious choice would be loneliness. The significant community I'd created over the past year and a half has shrunken to only a small core... the safety net I'd come to rely on was pulled out from under me, and I still don't like it. Looking back, I was maybe a bit too reliant on the opinion and advice of others at the expense of listening to and searching for what God had to say, and over the past few months I've definitely been given the opportunity to get myself out of that habit: when I had nowhere else to turn, I became more willing to turn to the Bible for support for my feelings and beliefs.
The topic this week of the small group I lead was purity... more specifically the idea that if we desire purity we have to listen to, obey, and TRUST God... and, as always, I'm pretty sure I learned more than the girls. I'm struggling with the trust piece right now. I don't like the lesson I'm learning or the road it might be leading me down, and I want life to go my way. I want the good without the struggles, the growth without the pain. The resistance is most obvious when faced with the statement that when it comes to relationship, God alone has to be enough. I immediately pull back. I can accept that idea cognitively, but my heart still begs for something tangible. A person to hold me when I'm crying. Someone to speak words I hear with my ears. A place to physically run when life feels unbearable.
So what do I fear? I fear that learning to accept that God can comfort and love me without any help may mean this is only the beginning of my season of loneliness. I fear that THIS is the reason my community has been stripped away and my attempts to rebuild it have been met with frustration and failure.
Well, I guess I'm finished with my assignment now...
Thursday, July 10, 2008
my chemical imbalance is cooler than yours...
I know it will shock some of you, but I religiously read the website dooce.com. If you're brave, you can check it out... it's one of my links. The author, Heather Armstrong, is pretty much everything I'm not: an outgoing and vocal ex-Mormon who can be crude at times.
I respect her immensely.
Last December I opened my inbox to find a link to one of her recent entries:
http://www.dooce.com/2007/12/13/because-i-couldnt-say-it-phone
I read it mostly so I would be able to have an educated discussion if that friend asked what I thought, but I was immediately hooked. Her honesty hit straight to my heart because I could relate to every word she said.
Like Heather, I've dealt with chronic depression and anxiety for most of my life. I knew as a young teenager that something was very wrong, but I chose for years not to get help. I was afraid of the stigma of therapy, not to mention a label, and I was steadfastly opposed to medication... until I finally hit rock bottom and all the prayer and Bible study in the world couldn't pull me out of my darkness. I realized I had a choice: treatment or death. I went with treatment.
For a long time, I kept my choice a secret. In fact, to a number of people I know, it's still a secret, and that saddens me. I consider my experience in therapy and my relationship with my therapist to be one of the greatest blessings in my life, and though I'm still not a fan of needing daily medication, I'm thankful for the stability it provides. I've learned a tremendous amount about grace and what it means to love like Jesus from the people who've walked through treatment with me. I've finally begun to see myself as He sees me. Recovery has been excruciating at times, but I have never experienced God as tangibly as I have during these months. I couldn't be luckier.
Unfortunately, in the conservative Christian circles I run in, far too many people still believe that mental illness and particularly being on psychotropic drugs makes a person less of a Christian. This ignorance deeply saddens me. So many aching people are isolated from the mainstream church because we hide our hurts, habits, and hangups for the sake of looking like the picture perfect congregation. So many others hide within the church for fear of being ostracized if people knew who they really were. That so many might miss out on the healing God can bring because admitting their imperfections would open them up to ridicule breaks my heart.
I hope that as mental illness slowly loses its stigma in society in general, the body of Christ will follow and envelop the hurting in its loving arms. Until then, I pray that the hurting people around me will find the courage to seek recovery even if it's not easy. I did, and it is a choice I will never regret.
I respect her immensely.
Last December I opened my inbox to find a link to one of her recent entries:
http://www.dooce.com/2007/12/13/because-i-couldnt-say-it-phone
I read it mostly so I would be able to have an educated discussion if that friend asked what I thought, but I was immediately hooked. Her honesty hit straight to my heart because I could relate to every word she said.
Like Heather, I've dealt with chronic depression and anxiety for most of my life. I knew as a young teenager that something was very wrong, but I chose for years not to get help. I was afraid of the stigma of therapy, not to mention a label, and I was steadfastly opposed to medication... until I finally hit rock bottom and all the prayer and Bible study in the world couldn't pull me out of my darkness. I realized I had a choice: treatment or death. I went with treatment.
For a long time, I kept my choice a secret. In fact, to a number of people I know, it's still a secret, and that saddens me. I consider my experience in therapy and my relationship with my therapist to be one of the greatest blessings in my life, and though I'm still not a fan of needing daily medication, I'm thankful for the stability it provides. I've learned a tremendous amount about grace and what it means to love like Jesus from the people who've walked through treatment with me. I've finally begun to see myself as He sees me. Recovery has been excruciating at times, but I have never experienced God as tangibly as I have during these months. I couldn't be luckier.
Unfortunately, in the conservative Christian circles I run in, far too many people still believe that mental illness and particularly being on psychotropic drugs makes a person less of a Christian. This ignorance deeply saddens me. So many aching people are isolated from the mainstream church because we hide our hurts, habits, and hangups for the sake of looking like the picture perfect congregation. So many others hide within the church for fear of being ostracized if people knew who they really were. That so many might miss out on the healing God can bring because admitting their imperfections would open them up to ridicule breaks my heart.
I hope that as mental illness slowly loses its stigma in society in general, the body of Christ will follow and envelop the hurting in its loving arms. Until then, I pray that the hurting people around me will find the courage to seek recovery even if it's not easy. I did, and it is a choice I will never regret.
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