Hello 2019

     I haven't written a blog post in quite some time. Um. Like a year. Seriously. Ugh. Some Insta activity but nothing that takes longer than 10 seconds to post. It's no secret. I've been struggling. Hard. But I'm back. Or at least I'm not in the dark place I once was.

     The last couple of months were excruciating. Primarily because all the smiling people merrily enjoying the season were a stark contrast to myself. Their overt gaiety highlighted the fact that my own subtle smile was a somber facsimile, painfully pasted on my face in an effort to appear more cheery than I felt. All I wanted to do was hunker down and hide in dark, quiet solitude. Introversion at its awkward best. I'll be nursing hot beverages and as I recuperate, huddled in a pile of weighted blankets.

     My resolution for 2019 isn't lofty, or noble, or unique. It is simply this...survive.

     When I prayed for help to be more earnest in prayer, I didn't realize what it would take to bring me humbly to my knees.

     My year in review. An honest account. Not the overly hyped, fakey Christmas letter kind.

     I'm up 10-15 lbs (prob more but I'm being optimistic and gentle, is that what self care is?).

     I'm down a few toxic thoughts (thanks thearpy).

     I've gotten off the meds that were making me feel flat and down right dumpstery (this is starting to sound like some Hollywood rehab story...eyeroll...ugh emoji)

     I'm on new meds (meh). I'm not all that hopeful about them. Despite what doctors, friends, therapists, etc say, I still feel guilty for needing them. And I don't feel like "normal" is going to come from a pill bottle no matter how many brain chemistry pep talks I give myself.

     The mental break and anxiety, that I thought was a temporary aside, have taken center stage in my life, in my whole family's life. And the anxiety worsens at a rate that frightens me.

     I keep wondering, "Why now?" I've always been fine. Great even. But I am learning that I can no longer tolerate ignoring my past. I can't pretend it's okay or that it didn't happen. Doing so has made me physically and mentally ill. And it has left my emotions in tattered shreds. So years later, the only way to get past the trauma is to go through it. Again. All over again.

     My OCD is getting better but I am experiencing PTSD in addition to Conversion Disorder and Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). So I get precious little accomplished and I feel like a lump. A sad lazy lump.

     I hermited (it's a new word. Yes. Yes it is. Hermited: verb describing having exercised the qualities of a hermit). I did the hermiting routine a lot. Really. A lot.

     I learned that I don't know myself at all. I never really did. I'm struggling as I come to terms with my own brain, all the thoughts it thinks, feelings it knows, and memories that are seared into it.

     I'm trying to care for my own family, my hardworking husband and my sweet babies, without irreparably damaging them. All the while feeling inadequate and miserably ashamed for the many failures and mistakes I make with them.

     It's been a wild roller coaster ride (to say the least). Many of my "I never thoughts" happened.


     I have wonderful friends who are more like family. I experienced a depth of care that I hoped I'd never need and I am thankful beyond words for every bit of it.

     God showed up (He was always here) in stunning (heart stopping) ways. I learned to let my soul solely (hehe pun intended) rely on Him not on myself, not on others, and not on my circumstances.

     I have experienced more heartache and more love than I can express with words (whaaaaaa???????? She has no words?????????) And the love in my life makes every heartache bearable (def not likeable, but bearable).

     2019 feels daunting (already). But I have the best besties, the strongest support systems, and a good, glorious, gracious, God (and abounding alliteration) with me.

     Bring it on (Yes? Yes. Yes!).