Writing: Water Break

I’ve held off for months, ok –a year, on writing. Toes to the edge of the cliff, knees bent, jump-ready. Then a little voice says, “Wouldn’t you rather nap than try to figure out how to start writing again?”

Why, yes. Yes, I would. Right after I eat a Hershey’s bar with almonds thank you very much.

Trying to anticipate and gauge other people’s expectations can be exhausting. Trying to say anything in public is difficult, really. Try to be upbeat even if you’re depressed. Challenge cultural norms, but not in a way that will get you unfriended. Say something profound, but don’t alienate anyone. Be authentic but not too vulnerable. And don’t forget that everyone from your life might read what you write – past and present, family, friends, and strangers.

What if I want to share things about a hard time in my life that might get into the inboxes of the people that were integral in creating that hard time in my life? What if I don’t want to share any more of myself with those people? I can’t pick and choose who reads my writing.

So then we come full circle back to, “Wouldn’t you rather nap?”

I’m throwing out all the things I know about the perfect blog. My first sentence won’t indicate the topic, nor will my first paragrah introduce you to the concepts. I won’t have key words sprinkled through the text so that Google’s SEO algorithm will look favorably on me and actually show my writing to more than one person. I’m not putting in catchy inbox headers in my email, fun graphics that go with my content, or calls to like or share my stuff.

I’m just going to share my life. Which is how I started this writing thing in the first place. Before I learned about how to be an influencer and build a platform. Bleh.

So maybe I’ll be raw and unpolished. Cringe-worthy. And people who know me might learn waaay too much about my internal thought life. (There should be a hazard warning for sure!) Maybe everyone will unsubscribe. And remember those people? They might read my writing and have opinions. I’m going to be ok with that because the woman I am today is not the woman they thought they knew.

I have things I want to share, many of them actually! And life-paralysis, a term I just learned via Brene Brown, is a real thing! You’re hearing from the Queen who’s in the process of abdicating her throne, or rather her couch cushion.

Tonight, I’m sitting in the writing chair. So buckle up, Buttercup, and read-on if you dare.
This time I’m writing for me. Yes, also you! But mostly me and God, because there’s a very real parable about squandering talents in Matthew 25, and I don’t want to keep mine buried any longer.

Breezy Thought-Work

Here are the mammoth concepts I’m chewing on these days.

Shame! Depression! Self-compassion! Acceptance! Community! Vulnerability!

What prompted this you ask? I just turned Forty in September and am embracing all the self-reflection that goes with it. Sorry if you said Happy Birthday on Facebook or text and I didn’t respond. If I don’t acknowledge my birthday, did it even happen?

Seasonal depression hit many months too early and I befriended my couch, TV, Sudoku, and sweets.

It wasn’t really that the age was a problem. It is that the age caused me to look at my life and compare it to how I thought my life would look. I’ve been concurrently running from, numbing, acknowledging, and then fully facing disappointment. I’m wrestling with God.

What does that look like? Well I described it to a friend like this. I’m an angsty teenager with God the Father right now. I’m angry. I’m hurt. And yet, I know that God couldn’t possibly lie or not fulfill His promises, so I’m confused as well. I know that whatever problem I’m having in my relationship with God is of my own making, my own misunderstanding, based on MY expectations of timing and what God blessing me should look like at this stage of life.

I’m asking the big questions that I was sure I knew the answers to before, but now suddenly make ZERO sense.

I’ve sulked and not wanted to worship or pray. I’ve even been kind of perturbed that I can still sense His presence with me while I’m having my forty-mini-meltdown.

Feeling Schm-yucky

I think, He shouldn’t love me when I’m acting like a schmuck. And I’m asking how long can I stay in this limbo where I’m hurt, confused, and angry, yet not incur His wrath for sinning. Ideas, anyone?

I’ve got countless examples of heroes of the faith whose promises didn’t materialize the way they expected: Abram, Sarah, Joseph, Moses, David. Though the promises did still come. E-V-E-N-T-U-A-L-L-Y

I also have examples in the Bible of the trials and tribulations God did allow on each person’s way to their promises. I know I wasn’t promised a trouble-free life.

There’s also plenty of examples of people in the Bible lamenting and sharing their unreasonable, overwrought emotions with God (Elijah, Habakkuk, David, Job, Jeremiah), so I know I’m in good company. He must be ok with it to some extent.

I guess what I’ve done is drop out of the race for a bit. Maybe I’m having an extended water break? I’m looking at the road behind, shocked at what a loving Father God allowed when I thought I was following His voice. And I’m looking at the road ahead with trepidation of what there might be yet to come. Especially, if those miles ahead don’t include the blessings that I was sure I’d be experiencing right now. Do promised blessings have an expiration date?

Do I still want to run this race if His blessings don’t line up with my heart’s desires?
Do I have any other choice? I’ve already given my whole life and heart to Him, no matter the cost. I’m with Him to the end. But the cost on some days seems higher than I expected.

In the middle of my search for answers, I kind of went into hermit mode for a few weeks. The longer I was out of the loop of my community, the less I wanted to be with community, and the less I wanted to share my real, hurting heart.

They had heard it all before, why should I share it again, ad nauseam?

I’ve been trying to dig up and out of this hole of depression.

Some Light Reading…The Soul of Shame

It started with listening to this book called The Soul of Shame: Retelling the Stories We Believe About Ourselves by Curt Thompson.

Shame is the enemy of authenticity and connection. And as I listened to this book, I left with a couple take-aways. Shame is universal. If you think it’s just you experiencing it, you’re wrong. It has its roots in mankind’s story from the Garden of Eden.

Shame breeds in darkness and isolation. The enemy introduces the idea of shame to efficiently allow us to sabotage and silence ourselves and our God-given creativity.

Boy, howdy does it work. Like me – with writing and sharing my heart with you. Or again, like me, with depression and not wanting to share that yes, here I am, fighting the same battle…again.

How do we fight shame? Based on some of the points of the book, here’s what I am trying: Sharing my life through authentic connection in a safe community, re-engaging with the story God is telling about me, and re-embracing my creativity.

This is it y’all. Me doing the things.

I hope that maybe my words will encourage someone out there to take a chance on a safe and loving person or community and share your burden. Don’t let shame win. Share your life, and let others remind you of the story God is telling about and through you.

I’ve got more to say on that, but Hey – assuming I keep fighting shame, I’ll be back again soon-ish. 🙂

p.s. Forty hasn’t been all bad. My amazing sister-in-love, Jess, left all the kids with my also amazing brother, Wes, so that Jess and I could travel to one of my favorite places on my birthday. Here is the rainbow God gifted me on my birthday in Estes Park, Colorado!

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