A list of only some of the things those I love dearly have experienced, and shared with me recently--and many of those items have multiple people attached to them. It's been a hot second since I've been out of the pit of despair (depression), and now that I'm breathing fresh air, my eyes have been so very aware of all the hurt and pain around me, including the hurt I'm experiencing personally. The loss of a child stings and burns, and aches so hard it leaves you speechless. Divorce is not what you planned for, hoped for, even wanted, and it leaves you devastated. The call the doctor makes to you to say that things aren't looking good--knocks the wind right out of you. Depression, devastation, loss of home, of security, relationships, the list goes on and on.
So much pain, and in a peculiar time it seems--Christmas--when we're supposed to be singing songs about reindeer and hippos under the tree, and decorating with tinsel and consuming copious amounts of sugar from endless piles of cookies. It feels almost wrong to allow such lament with such happiness. And maybe it feels wrong because it is? Don't write me off just yet, stay with me for a second.
I wonder how much more we might be able to relate to one another if we sit together in the pain and not automatically jump for the happy tunes and egg nog. Nobody likes pain. I should clarify, the majority of individuals with a typical neurodevelopmental maturation do not like pain. IT HURTS! So it makes sense to want to avoid it. I see this often with the clients I work with. Children who are exposed to traumatic events develop coping mechanisms to forget. It is self-preservation. Literally a way to survive. The body says, "hmmm, I choose to focus on walking, talking, developing logic, and this trauma over here is just way too much for me. I don't want a circuit to blow, so...I'll just file that in the sortof forget catalog." And in this situation the coping skill served the person, so we can't write it off as all bad. But later as adults, we never come back to the coping skills we learned as kids. We continue on in avoiding the pain, because pain hurts. It hurts the physical body, it hurts the mind, and deep wounds can hurt the soul at your very core.
So then you get someone who is hurting, and another person who has felt lots of pain in their life recently. When the hurting friend invites the friend with triggers into the pit, they think, "Ahhhhh...too much...too hard...I can't." I love how Brene Brown illustrates this picture of sympathy, "Here's a casserole, I'll be over here, let me know if you need anything." I'm definitely not pointing any fingers here, I have carried out my share of casserole responses. And let's be real for a moment, sometimes it really is too much for you to carry the burden too--for whatever reason. I'm a strong proponant of healthy boundaries, but what if we start changing that story just a little tiny bit?
I was driving today and the thoughts of all that my tribe is going through was swirling around in my mind like a tornado. And like any go-to-angry person (anger is my default emotion) I confronted God.
Why? Why her? Why now? Why more? Hasn't she dealt with enough?
God this loss is too much. It is too much to have part of your heart leave you. Why would you even allow this?
Can't you see he needs a friend? A community? This is the wrong time for all of this.
Cancer in multiple friends is just too much for ME. What the hell.
I felt a little better getting it off my chest, but wasn't super thrilled at the silence on the other end. Then I drove by a nativity scene in someone's yard and things started moving in slow motion for me. I couldn't fight back the tears anymore.
Why would you even come to this earth where there is so much pain...and why can't you help your people...what kind of God allows their children to suffer...and what do you CARE anyway?!
I instantly got a picture in my mind of this teenage woman who just gave birth. She was staring at her child as all of time stood still. The Savior of the World. And yet in that tear-stained moment of mine, it felt like such an empty promise. The world is in such disarray right now, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, please make some room for me in that cave you're living in. Refugees are fleeing all over the globe. Terrorism, violence, and hatred are in every nation. Even Creation is groaning and making her displeasure known in storms and fires and earthquakes and floods. Foreign politics are feeling about as stable as this president is with controlling his Twitter account. Racism, interpersonal violence, human trafficking, equal rights, should I go on? All of that wrapped up in a baby that is supposed to save the world.
I think about how much Jesus must have changed Mary's life. Any parent can relate of course, but I mean, how remarkable to have learned so much from The Divine in a child that you had an intimate relationship with. A child that you saw grow, and become a man. A man that you witnessed time and time again, reach down deeper to the very being of each person, to say, "I know you. I love you. I desire, you." Jesus changed the world in relationships, one person at a time. He wept over his friend's death. He touched people that were banished to live outside the city and had not been touched in who knows how long. He sought authenticity in the human experience. And part of me wonders if it was all a beautiful example of what could be between you and me. What if we looked one another in the eye and sat with each other in our depression, in our loss, in the grief, the pain that feels so strong it could sweep you away entirely. What if its only about that? And what if there isn't a single rule or regulation, or law, but just love. And what if we didn't abandon each other in our darkest moments. Like moments of incredible pain, like childbirth, or death on a cross, or insert your personal hurt here.
I don't always get it, or get it right, or even say something worthwhile, but I have to believe that none of that matters. Because when words fail to express empathy, I think connection shines through amidst the hurt. I don't like it, it's uncomfortable, and maybe even overwhelming at times. But if that baby devoted his life to connecting on a deeper and more intimate level, then I can't imagine any greater way to live a more full and free life.
So what if we go there with each other? Let's lean into the pain together. And maybe in time we will see more of what it means to truly be connected in each beautiful encounter of the goodness within. God Incarnate. I don't think the story has to end with just that one man. Welcome to the depths my friend. I'm so happy to share this space with you.
Moana is a dang good movie, isn't it?! You know what's even better than the movie? The music. Sweet goodness, it is amazing. The text, the meaning, how applicable it is to every day situations...no? Just me?
Patrick and I went to The Liturgist Gathering this past weekend, a place for people (many) who have come from an evangelical Christian background, and find themselves in a faith transition of sorts. Some atheist, some searching, some have defined faith ideals, some have non at all. I think part of the beauty of it is that its sort of a catch all group of people who just want to belong. I mean, don't we all? The weekend was really informative, but sort of left me with an even deeper desire for true authentic community. Can it be possible for me to want authentic community even more than I already do?! But then I remembered something, liturgy in the Greek means for the people, and BOOM! An explosion of heavenly empowerment rained upon me. I'm going to start facilitating true, authentic community with others that are socially bankrupt, pushed to the sides, feeling secluded.
But let's back up for a second. So, all this came about when I went through a deconstruction of my faith. It was hard, really hard, and still isn't complete I guess, but now I'm starting to find new pieces to this puzzle, only I don't have the picture on the box, so I really don't know what it's going to look like. I do know two things though: God is more real to me than ever before, and my measure for all things is love. The rest, I'm clueless. But it's not flippant like, "I don't know I don't care, whatever." It's more like an up and down wave of relinquishing the control of needing to have things figured out, to really struggling with feeling like I have no idea what's going on. Up and down, up and down. The waves are less frequent, and the swells aren't as steep anymore. But things still happen to shake the waters, and it sometimes throws me off.
I have a big relationship that has been in some tension recently, lots and lots of stress at work, and overall things have been overwhelming. Add to that feeling like I can't relate to anyone on a faith level, and we've got full on desperation, my friends. Patrick met the pastor (a woman, hooray!) to a UMC in Costa Mesa, and he wanted to go. I reluctantly agreed. The message was on Matthew 10:34 that says, "I did not come to bring peace, but a sword." Seriously Jesus, why you always gotta stir things up. She talked about how swords were not always used to fight in battle, but also to divide people on respective sides. Basically, Jesus did not come to appease everyone's egos. His intent was to make clear who was over here and who was over there. It was a lot for me to take in, having just finished up a conference where most people were struggling with a faith transition, and also HAVE YOU READ THE NEWS LATELY? It's just too much sometimes. I was sort of thinking on and absorbing all I heard while driving home, and "How Far I'll Go" from Moana came on. And not just any version, a little girl, maybe 3-4 years old, sang the lyrics to the song. I crumbled into thousands of little pieces.
I've been staring at the edge of the water 'Long as I can remember, never really knowing why I wish I could be the perfect daughter But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try Every turn I take, every trail I track Every path I make, every road leads back To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be
See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me And no one knows, how far it goes If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me One day I'll know, if I go there's just no telling how far I'll go
I know everybody on this island, seems so happy on this island Everything is by design I know everybody on this island has a role on this island So maybe I can roll with mine I can lead with pride, I can make us strong I'll be satisfied if I play along But the voice inside sings a different song What is wrong with me?
See the light as it shines on the sea? It's blinding But no one knows, how deep it goes And it seems like it's calling out to me, so come find me And let me know, what's beyond that line, will I cross that line?
The line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me And no one knows, how far it goes If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me One day I'll know, how far I'll go
I couldn't hold back the tears, the emotions. I wish I could be the perfect daughter...What is wrong with me? It calls me, and no one knows, how far it goes. It's like hope mixed with the perfect amount of anxiety, mixed with insight and self-reflection, and of course you gotta throw in everyone else's expectations on you as a person, in society...will I cross that line?
I was that little girl, and in that moment, that was me. I began reflecting on my journey, and I got to the present day. I may know little about the plan for my life, but I am certain that I was made for things beyond my wildest comprehension. I had a plan for my life, and this was not it! But if I think about all the beautiful experiences I would have missed for the life I chose (and planned out), I would
have handed over the reigns a long time ago.
The voice inside me is singing a different song, and I'm ready to head out to sea. And who knows, maybe one day I'll look back and see how far I've yet to go.
I believe in God. And although I don’t think its necessary
that I have to say that or prove it, I feel like for whatever reason, it
shouldn’t be assumed, it should be stated.
Life is precious, and beautiful, it is awesome—as in it
leaves me in awe. I think one of the many reasons why I believe in the Great
Mystery. I have only to believe that the intricate perfection in Creation is a
pale, and not quite glorious enough reflection of You.
I have had many experiences of You, and the reason I
continue to be drawn back to your Spirit is because you know me like no one
else. The verse that says you know every hair on my head does not give justice
to the deeper things you know about me personally. I have turned my face from
you in pain, in despair, in confidence, and out of self-protection. I didn’t
want to get hurt by believing that You were enough, only to find out You
weren’t. But that didn’t stop You from constant pursuit. You pursued me on my
time, in my own way, because you know that part of me too. I have screamed at
you, worshipped you, held you at arms length. I’ve been still with you,
forgotten you, and cried to you. But today I feel like I’m crying with you,
because you’ve already experienced what I’m experiencing.
There are many needs we have as human beings, as
individuals. Today one of my deepest needs is to be known. I could care less
how people pronounce my name, although I will never understand why Californians
always say “On-DREY-ah.” I don’t need to make the history books or any record
of anything. I just need to be known as uniquely and wonderfully made. I need
to be known not for what I believe, or my theology, but the essence of who I
am.
People will judge my relationship according to their ideals,
according to their set of rules, and they’ll put me in (or out) of their box.
But You know that all to well, don’t you? It’s harder to deal with that in some
people than in others. Obviously, if there is no relationship there, I could
care less what people think of me. But for those who are supposed to know me
the most, the wound is deep. How do you do it? How do you continue to pursue a
relationship with someone that refuses to know more about you? Great Mystery
indeed.
Part of my identity is my belief and relationship with You. Although
I cannot put human words to who You are, I don’t think that’s a requirement. I
feel you in my soul. Your breath inhabits my being. I could turn away again,
and likely will out of self-preservation, but I cannot deny that You are there.
You are the life within my being. And so I say boldly, I am not ashamed that my
identity is in You. I believe who you say I am, because I have experienced Your
grace, Your tender touch, I have even heard Your voice. I’m a mystic, so that
experiential stuff puts a period on the end of all those sentences for me. I
can never deny Your existence, because I have experienced You.
But I am grieving the loss of being known by people I love
because of my beliefs, or the priority I put on love. This confuses me most of
all, because I thought YOU were love?!
I will continue to love people deeply, including and especially those who
identify as LGBTQIA. Some will sneer because I don’t buy the theory of
substitutionary atonement. I didn’t even
know it was a thing until two weeks ago!! And frankly, I don’t get the
trinity—not really. But I think the important part is your love—certainly how
I’ve experienced you.
In all this desire to be known—Your own personal
experience—you pierce my heart by meeting my deepest need.
“I love you. You are
my daughter. I know you, and I love who you are. I know you more fully than you
know yourself…and I love all of you. I see you, and I’m weeping with you. My
heart is your heart. Your hurt is my hurt.”
To me, You are more than a patriarchal being that requires
things to be only one way. You are mystery.
You are awe. You are Abba and the soft-skinned, cozy woman
who just holds me while I weep in her arms. You are all things good, although I
cannot fully grasp or contain what good really means when describing you.
So I believe in God, although I don’t prefer to use that
word. It feels too simple, and carrying too much baggage from centuries of
misuse from my kind. I believe in You. I’m in relationship with You. I commune
with You. And I love You.
Today was such a difficult day at work. So difficult that I was aware of my body going into depression again just to self-preserve. It almost doesn't help to know what's happening to you (logic), if you can do nothing about it. It was beyond my control. But somehow, at bathtime things started to switch over to being okay again. I started being silly again, and used goofy voices when we read books. I gave lots of tickles and hugs and almost made one bubbies pee his pants...oops :) I spent quality time with each of my sweethearts before bed. And then bed. The littlest little has made a habit of going to bed by 9:30pm, despite my greatest efforts. Tonight he was out before 8:30pm. And while normally I would be relieved and get out of the room to finish my to do list, tonight was different. Tonight I savored the moment. His whispy hair blowing on my chest, and chubby little fingers gripping my arm. His ear to my heart. Instantly, I was taken back to the time we spent early on, chest to cheek. Sometimes it was sweaty, sometimes sticky or milky, but always so sweet. Like a memory ball that Joy brings back into my recollection periodically. This is how I want to remember you always, my sweet boy. Then I remembered the other little, nursing him for hours upon hours upon hours, and finally if I could ever so carefully slip his mouth off...ahh...relief but I wasn't actually done. My reward for all that nursing was allowing time to stand still as you slept on me. I dare not move because Lord knows we both needed that nap. But my rest was enough just to watch the awe and wonderful of this precious being develop before my eyes. And now the first child that made me a mother will be going to Kindergarten in the Fall. How quickly the time passes.
I begged and pleaded, and let's be honest, bargained, with God today to bring me the opportunity I need to feel some sanity again. To feel even just a little peace. I want to enjoy what I do and not be hindered by negativity that is shredding the very core of my being, one small piece at a time. I just want to savor these moments and not be burdened by the drama, the notes, the deadlines, the crises, the stress that is probably oozing out of my pores. I have no doubt the future holds my heart's desires. But in this moment, even though I didn't ask for it, I was given the gift of presence. It was not something I meant to do, but rather a reminder that I already have my answer to peace--living under the same roof. Ironic that these peace bringers also cause the most stress and mess too, huh??! ;) What a gift, my two little treasures.
And so...tomorrow will bring what it will. But for tonight, I will soak in the serenity of this moment, and the hope that there will be many more like this when I open myself up to the opportunity.
I have experienced deep despair,
hopelessness,
true darkness.
When I walk into someone's home that is infested with cockroaches, or bedbugs, or fleas. The menaces are symptoms of a much bigger issue: poverty.
I work with people who fear that their partner will beat them, or their kids, or both.
People that have literally no income other than what the government provides them--which is literally less than beans.
I go into the homes of women who were taught that they are worth nothing more than the number of children they produce, which for one right now is #5, and she's 25 years old.
I see single dads that are told to get a job, then get a better job, but their only transportation is a bus that takes them from the poorest of neighborhoods, home, to one of the richest cities two hours away, work, and the whole way they're trying not to get caught by ICE or police because they are a single parent, undocumented, and daughter is in high school studying furiously over the summer.
I listen to moms that had mad addictions, but have been clean for years, and that alone is further ahead than the example her mom taught her.
I read files and case reports of abuse after gory abuse, but then meet the parent and realize abuse is a perpetual cycle straight down through the lineage.
I face physical violence,
aggression,
hurt,
depression,
suicide,
and hopelessness
daily.
I have sat with families in their grief,
been the referee in fights,
stood in the way of a punch.
I have called the child abuse hotline more times than I care to count,
been told "fuck you"
and had the door slammed in my face.
But I have also seen a mother reach out to her son for the first time after being reunified.
I've seen happy tears of people that only ever show their anger.
I've fought back my own tears after seeing a parent and child embrace.
I see darkness all the time. But the beauty about darkness, I've learned, is that the smallest little bit of light can give birth to hope.
I'm not afraid of the darkness anymore. To sit with people in it, to walk toward it, to be affected by it.
Because when the glimmer of light comes, hope is born, resiliency takes root, and the beauty in humanity shows it's perseverant face.
Because it's important not to just write about the struggle, but also the resolution. Or perhaps in this case I should say the miraculous intersection of my distorted view of God and the end of myself.
So, you read that I was dealing with depression in the last post. The week continued to get worse and worse at work, and finally came the weekend. I had a women's retreat planned for that weekend, and what timing. God has always shown up at that retreat for me in significant ways, which I'm super grateful for. So I share my story in the name of hope. I realize that not everyone believes in a higher power, and that's ok. But everyone has struggled with something in life--the one thing we have in common--our struggle. The beauty I think in this story is the juxtaposition of hopelessness that is met with fullness and renewed life.
I was a mess. I could tell from the outside that people close to me were worried about me just based on how I looked. I was a shell of a person, walking around and getting next to nothing accomplished. Unless you count panic attacks. Those I was racking up at a record pace. I packed my bag and headed to Murrieta Hot Springs with my friend Teri. I was pretty sarcastic about what was going on in my life. People asked me how I was and I almost instantly broke down crying each time. I explained to one friend that my life is sort of like a very very old dam with many holes and increased water volume and pressure behind the structure. I have all these coping mechanisms to patch up the dam holes...but there are so many holes, and the whole structure was about to come crashing down. Friday I barely kept myself together, and in the process let a bunch of people know that I was not well. Sort of like being the sickly green person in a group, and saying, "Just so you know, I'm not feeling so great." I mean, when you're sick, it's obvious. And my soul was so sick. Saturday rolled around and I was already becoming impatient with God. I felt like my life is always about giving to others, and when nothing seemed to "happen" quickly to change my circumstances, the anxiety began to creep in, the resentment began to peek around the corner. What if nothing happens at this retreat?...What if I have to stay like this for a long long time?...What if...the possibilities were endless. I stopped singing the words to worship songs--a real physical representation of what was going on inside--I was closing God out, and fast. Another coping mechanism. I don't want to be disappointed again. I can take care of myself. I have before, I will again. I can do this. It was announced in the morning that later that afternoon Spiritual Direction spots would be available for those interested. But there were only 20 spots available and over 80 women. I teased my friends and said, "I'm going to wait at the back of the room (where the sign up sheet was going to be posted) until they post the sign up sheet. I will be the first on the list" A friend next to me said, "The Kingdom of God is for the forceful. Get what you need." I can be forceful, and I had every intent to push others out of the way to speak to a Spiritual Director. Right after the announcement we broke into small groups, and I was facilitating. By the time my group had finished, I hurried to the back table and saw every single spot full. PANIC. PANIC...No. I'm going to talk to someone. I'm not going to give them a choice. I put my name at the bottom of the paper, and walked up to two other leaders from the retreat and said, "I have to talk to someone. It has to happen." And to one I said, "If you can't make room for me, I'm going home now." First of all, sooooooo out of character for me to be so forceful with something for myself. My kids? Sure, I know how to advocate get exactly what they need. But I never do this for myself. I had a sort of joking and anxious demeanor as I stated that I would be seen by a Spiritual Director, and honestly that was the best I could do aside from choking someone to get what I had to have. My instinct took over, and the survival part of my brain knew that something had to start moving otherwise the entire village below the dam would be destroyed.
The next event was a silence and solitude time. I knew exactly what I was going to do in my silence time. I grabbed my phone and wrote down the lyrics to this song:
This song has been on my heart for weeks. I can't get rid of it, and every time it comes up on my Pandora station I get so emotional. But this time was different. I wrote out every lyric and then journaled what I thought about the lyrics of the song. You are not my strength. You are not my anchor. I am shaken. I have been so moved. Where is your hand to hold?! I cannot possibly lift my weary head. Do you not see me suffering? Do you not care? At what point will you get up and show that my situation matters to you? When?! Do I need to be suicidal? What do you want from me?!
Both my tears and the drops of rain sprinkled over my journal pages. I ugly cried, alone. I mean it was silence and solitude time, but how symbolic that I would be crying alone once again. It's okay. I was used to it. I curled up in my blanket at the outdoor table in the rain and wept. Then it was lunch and I spoke to a retreat leader again to ensure that I would be able to talk to someone. They assured me I would be able to.
Myself and three others went wine tasting before my Spiritual Direction appointment, I mean, we were 10 minutes from Temecula. Then I headed back and just spilled my guts to this poor unsuspecting soul. Being a clinician myself, I knew the impact this would have on a person--to sit there and just listen to people for 4 hours?? That's a lot. I get it. And as quickly as the feeling of guilt creeped in, I shut it out because I needed what I needed. Two things I walked away with: I needed to get back to therapy (ha ha, story of my life :) and I needed to sit down and write out what the Sabbath would look like. Maybe it's only a handful of hours at first, but I needed rest in the worst way possible.
I didn't feel betterper se after spiritual direction, but I did feel like I had a game plan at least. And I certainly felt depleted for crying A-gain. I sat up in the main room where there were some ladies from Zambia praying. I'm sure I'm not the only one who just sits there thinking, Should I ask for prayer? Should I not? It seems so silly on this side of it, but when people who live in a country of need pray, they pray with great expectation. They pray knowing that God yearns for us to reach out to him, and they expect him to show up. So I think my soul was sort of fighting this "all in" mentality. It's much more comfortable to dip your toe in the water, and Lord knows I appreciate my comfort! I just sat there watching people be prayed for, and at some points was almost void of thought or emotion. Still a shell. This woman from my church sat down next to me and we started talking. So the crazy thing about this interaction, is I don't know this woman. A year or two ago she came up to me and said God put me on her heart and she really felt like she needed to encourage me or help me or something. Nothing became of it, but she sat down next to me and said that she bought me a little something. I was amazed that a woman I basically don't know would think to buy me a gift. I opened up the bag and the first word I saw on the box was Hope. I couldn't even read the rest of the words before I began to sob. Hope lives here. I was operating with no hope. I was void of hope. Totally and utterly hopeless. She asked me if I was okay and I explained how hopeless I have felt recently. She bought me a water bottle and on it was written "be still and know..." Those beautiful words. Words that I did not know how to live out. She gave me a hug and I continued to sit by myself. I noticed my friend Teri went up to be prayed for, and I really felt like God said Andrea go up there and support her. I hadn't heard from God like that in a long time, so I figured I should listen. I walked up and one of the women said, "Do you need prayer?" I said sort of startled "Yes" and she said, "You will be prayed for." She was praying with this other woman that I sought out. I'm very aware of the essence of who a person is, and I'm drawn to certain people for different reasons. This woman Felicity, I was drawn to her because she is just so gentle and almost like nanny like. I needed gentle so badly. I couldn't do the fall on the ground, slain in the spirit stuff. Not my need right now. I needed to be held like a sick baby chick, softly, compassionately, and with such warmth so as to restore life to the precious little body. Anyhow, I was going to support my friend, and I did. After she was prayed for, we were told that dinner would end soon, and that we should go grab dinner real quick. I sort of thought I lost my chance, but maybe that's why God wanted me to go up for my friend, so that I could hear what I needed to hear also. How often do we do that? Oh, I guess this isn't my turn, okay. And so quickly that same woman that asked me before, Nicky, said, "Do you need prayer? You will be prayed for" in her beautiful South African accent. Sort of startled again that it would actually happen, I said yes. Felicity, the gentle one, came over to me with the most soft eyes. She was like Mrs. Claus, but younger, and long blonde hair. I said nothing. She kept looking at my jacket and said, "This color is beautiful. This pink is so soft. This is the color God has for you. You should look up the meaning of this color." And you know, it's funny because I discounted that, let's be honest, I thought it was weird until just now when I looked up the meaning of pink. The first thing I came across was this,
"The color pink represents compassion, nurturing and love. It relates to unconditional love and understanding, and the giving and receiving of nurturing."
Oh Father, you were just that in that exact moment. Ha ha, God is so patient with me--I literally didn't think there was any significance to what she said initially until this very moment.
Felicity bowed her head and was quiet for a few seconds. I assume she was trying to hear from Our Great Mystery. And how mysterious He is. (Isn't that an awesome name for God?!). I did NOT have my eyes closed. I was staring at Felicity, watching her every move. I guess you could say I was guarded. Then she looked up above her glasses and said, "Are you challenging God?"
Shit. This is real.
Remember the silence and solitude time? The time I said "You aren't any of these things you say you are. What do you need from me? How bad does this need to get before you start to care?" Remember that?...Yeah He remembered too.
I nodded my head and the tears started falling. "He's heard your challenge, and He's up for it." Felicity began praying for me, referencing the walls I've built up and this strong mistrust I have in God himself. All true. I don't trust God. She was the second person to say, "Andrea, God is not this other person that you have learned not to trust. God is worthy of your trust, and is willing to prove that he will show up to your party (figurative party)." Those words were so powerful for me...God is not that person. "You have been disappointed so much before, and you have no expectation of God because you don't want to be disappointed any longer. Do you want to ask God for forgiveness?"
HOLD THE PHONE. God needs to ask ME for forgiveness, I have NOTHING to be forgiven. I stared at her.
"Andrea, do you want to ask God for forgiveness?"
I started weeping, "I don't know how." That must have sounded like the stupidest thing ever. God forgive me. My four year old could have repeated those words so easily. Why was it so hard for me?
Felicity looked over at Nicky, the one who asked me twice if I wanted prayer and said that I would be prayed for. "Nicky, do you have anything?"
"I just see frustration. Frustration, frustration." Bingo. I broke down again.
Through my tears I said, "It's still there! It's still there!" The frustration that is.
Felicity came back to it, "Just say God forgive me." But she didn't say what for.
I stared at her some more, and couldn't move my mouth. I just couldn't. Finally the words came through, but they didn't go through my brain. The words supernaturally bypassed my logic, "God forgive me for not trusting you."
As I spoke those words (which to be honest, didn't even feel like I did it in my own power), I felt as though this cloak, like a wrap or a scarf was lifted off of me...the depression...and emotions flowed over. I was the softest person all of a sudden. Felicity prayed some more and I hugged her. I just snuggled into her softness like a child and wept. I can still feel her soft blonde hair on my wet cheek, her secure and warm embrace. Strong yet gentle. Secure. Trustworthy. I got the sense that Jesus had been present but silent during this time. This was between me and Daddy. My Abba, Father. I continued to weep, and repositioned my head again, snuggling in deeper.
I stayed there in that embrace for many many minutes. I can't even tell you how long. All the while being overwhelmed at the tangible presence of my Daddy--he was literally holding me--and also I was still being myself...I wonder how long it'll take before she pulls away. I was testing God again. Thankfully, Felicity has like a direct line to the Lord, and clearly was listening because she did not move. She didn't shift her weight, nothing. She was a rock. And the longer this went on, the longer I felt myself melt into the goodness of God. He knows I'm waiting for him to not provide fully for what I need. He showed up. Even in something as small as a hug that lasts a long time. Immanuel, God with us.
I finally pulled away, and it was so clear our defined roles in this relationship. God would always be worthy of my trust. He will always be everything I need. I can choose when I've had enough, or I'm filled.
I walked to the dining room with the two women that prayed for me and another friend? Ha ha, I don't remember who else was with me! A whole table of women (I didn't even know anyone knew I was missing or being prayed for because I had stayed behind) raised their hands to get my attention. 8 women saved me dinner. Wow. What a gesture! Too bad I wasn't hungry. They said, "Here is a piece of chicken, there's some rice pilaf..." I shouted in a really dorky way, but it was totally true, "I don't need food! I'm totally filled with God!" I know, super dorky. But honestly, it was the truth! I ate half a spinach salad and a chia or something pudding while telling them about my experience. It was crazy to recount it. Just crazy. And I retold my story to woman after woman, friend after friend. Each so gracious to hear every detail that I shared.
I know you think that's the end, and that certainly would have been enough, but God is more than enough, no??
So we had small group time and one of the ladies from Zambia brought her bag of essential oils. She was discussing with one of the women in my group about this idea of "offense" and when we feel offense, we need to realign our vision with God's. We need to repent, which means to have our vision be God's vision. To realign to what he sees. Then she explained that in order to do that we have to ask God to forgive us for not seeing things the way he does. This part of the story, I really don't do justice in telling. But it was a huge EUREKA moment for me! When Felicity asked me to ask to be forgiven, I didn't know what for. But now I got it. For not aligning with God. For not seeing the way he does. And it's not a shameful thing, there's no guilt attached. Quite the opposite. I felt such freedom in saying those words, "Forgive me God for not trusting you." You see, it wasn't for God. He didn't need to be lifted up, or get puffy because I was 'wrong.' It was all about the attitude of my heart. The moment my heart changed to realign with God's was the moment everything changed for me that day. Ha, isn't that always the case in any relationship? It's not really about the other person changing. It's usually about the change that occurs in ourselves. So anyway, back to the essential oils. So Naomi passed around her bag of oils and said to pick one.
You know me, I like to test God. I'm lucky he's so patient with me. So I took my time with the oils bag. God, I know a little about essential oils. We'll see if you show up here. MAN! I really test him. So I saw Acacia because I don't know this oil, and it intrigued me. Then Naomi gave me the card that went with it. Here ya go...
Well. Felicity did say God was up for the challenge. Even as I reread these cards I see Useful for: Fears, depression. Lord how can you be this good to me?
I've gone through a lot of soul work in the past four years, and with even more intensity in the past several months. And one thing remains in all this--My Great Mystery is steadfast and enduring. He sees my challenge and instead of saying, "I don't have to prove myself to you AGAIN." Let's be real, the Creator of the universe does not have to prove himself at all, and certainly not to me, over and over and over again. He meets my challenge with gentleness. With such strong compassion. With the same care and tenderness that I hunger for. He knows. And he is beautifully gracious.
I've been writing this post for a few days now, because it's long and takes time. But I think on this Mother's Day, this story of deep love despite my attitude, my hardness or mistrust is in perfect timing. There's something about a Mother's love that is unique, and while we often categorize God as having male form, he is everything we need. When I needed the sweet touch from a Mother, that is exactly what I got. God showed up to me as a Mother's love.
May you find sweet communion with Motherhood today, whether that is in the warmth of the bright sun, the tender touch from a loved one, or whatever way you need. And may you be the embodiment of Motherly love to someone who is so in need too.
Well, the result of my goofy free online test said...
Final result
Severe depression
You have the symptoms of severe depression. The condition seems to cause serious problems in your everyday life, and you should consult your doctor immediately.
Depression is a disease like any other disease, and it can be treated very effectively. Recognizing that you are suffering from depression is the first positive step. If you are depressed, you should arrange to see your doctor to talk about the illness right away. You may also want to raise the issue with your friends and family. You should look for support from these people you until you get well. Anyone can suffer from depression, and the symptoms can vary from person to person. Treatments, including medication and psychotherapy, have a very high success rate.
And I knew it because I work in mental health...which is why I took the goofy test online to begin with. First I should tell you, there's nothing to worry about. I don't do medication, but I am going to find a therapist that takes my new insurance. I knew I needed to go back to therapy, I think I just needed a silly test with red letters to say, "You should probably do that today, Andrea." I'm also not suicidal or homicidal, so immediate risk averted for all you in the field.
I bring depression up because I think it's really important that people know the impact minimizing has on another person's story. My job has been the catalyst of this recent downfall in my personal mental health. I've tried really really hard to maintain my stability in various ways that have worked for me in the past: blasting good music up really high in the car while I'm driving, meditations, mindfulness, words of affirmation, listening to interesting podcasts that help and also ones that are just to distract me from the intensity of my work, both eating well and eating whatever I'm craving, sex (it's true), cleaning and organizing, spending really good quality time with my kids, lavender oil, essential oils in general, I mean I could list a ton of things I've tried to get me back to who I am again. While these things sort of help me maintain a healthy level of overwhelm, my brain has gone into hibernation with regard to making happy juices. It's totally a coping mechanism. It's not something I've done intentionally, but I really believe my body is kicking it up into survival mode--self-preservation. My work is fucking hard, and it's taking a toll.
Rather than come up with solutions of how you can help me find another job (don't worry, I already have an action list of how I'm going to approach this), hear me out on where I am right now. Be with me in my messiness. Be with depressed Andrea, not because you know what to say or do, but because while my emotions are pretty stale right now, or I cry intensely, I still see you reaching out while I come back to my equilibrium. And it takes a little bit of time.
I work with families in crisis, with kids in crisis. I have an intense domestic violence case that we just filed a child abuse report on, a 5 year old child who was hospitalized because he's so out of control, foster care cases, families that might have their kids taken away the next "bad" move they make, it's a lot. One of my skills is maintaining professionalism and a calm attitude while shit is almost literally hitting the fan. But I don't keep that up when clients aren't around. My whole team is hanging on by a half unraveled thread, and as much as we're trying to prop one another up, we're struggling so much in and of ourselves. We work in crisis, and crisis is being absorbed by our very bodies. On Friday we had a team meeting and discussed everything that's been going on with the cases, how difficult they've been, then we talked about how much we're struggling personally. One of my co-workers broke down to her dad on the phone and threw her car keys as far as she could into the street--she just couldn't deal anymore. Another has had extreme insomnia, only sleeping like 3 hours a night for a month. And the other is crying constantly, and then goes to buy something to soothe the pain. These may not be the ways you cope, but they are theirs. I shared with my team that I'm stress eating, and asked if eating a whole bag of gummies is bad if it gets me through and I know why I'm doing it. I had a bunch of clinicians in the room, thought I'd run it by them. I explained that sugar increasingly makes me more and more sick as I've eaten more nutritiously in the past couple of years, and throws off my body so badly. So even while I get clear signs from my stomach to stop, I keep going because I feel like I need it to get through. Sugar is my drug.
Let me assure you that I feel more ridiculous saying that than you feel believing it. Sugar is a part of our daily lives, we celebrate with it, we commune over it, and of course it's legal. For these reasons, I think people sort of laugh off my issue and just call me crunchy. I usually have a tendency to laugh with them, but yesterday the minimizing of my issue, my "crunchiness" pierced me deeply. No one could possibly know the struggle I have with sugar, even though I've written so much about it on FB and this blog, and for someone to treat it as a non-issue leaves me totally defeated. It may not be your issue, but it IS mine. So rather than laugh, or chalk it up to me being a health nut, or whatever, maybe you empathize instead. You don't have to have my issue. I'd much prefer you didn't. But it is an issue for me. And issues when not monitored turn into the symptoms or behaviors of...BINGO, those big red letters up there, serious mental health concerns. So you don't have to think sugar is bad to think that the quantity by which I consume it is telling of something being not quite right. I'm on a journey to find out medically whats up, and I even have a hypothesis of a hormone imbalance that is really screwing me up. But don't just write it off. I'm not a hypochondriac. At the very least, you're missing what the behavior is pointing to. And at the very most, you're telling me my problem isn't important when it very clearly is.
I'm not angry, ha ha, don't think that emotion is in my bank right now :) But I do need to tell you that people should be seen for the intricacies of their lives. For their struggles, their joys, their dreams, accomplishments, their hang ups, their burdens. And none of those things should ever be minimized. In minimizing, you're telling the person you love, "This is not important," "You are not important."
Luckily, I have a lot of head knowledge about mental health. I know that continuing to eat well and trying to sleep will help me get back on track. I know this is a season, although I've heard that from far too many people recently, the word season is starting to be a word I want to roll my eyes at. I know things will get better. But for now, I don't enjoy eating food like I used to (I just use it to cope), I'm not sleeping well, I'm not happy, my reaction time is pretty slow, and my affect is flat for the most part. But I know I'm important, and I will continue to know that I am valued and loved. I hope you know that too no matter how others treat your struggle.
My children,
I wish that every night I could tuck you in,
kiss your forehead,
comb your hair after a bath,
but Mommy works, and sometimes a lot.
I have such mixed emotions about working for the well-being of other children while you
go to school all day with a runny nose,
didn't get enough sleep the night before,
and ate yogurt for breakfast in the car because we ran out of time.
Guilt consumes my body when you
cry when I drop you off,
don't want to let go of me,
say, "I missed you today, Mommy."
It actually makes me sick.
They say children are resilient,
that they don't really know,
but you know.
You both know.
So while your teachers get to spend more time with you each day than I do, please know that I'm trying the very best I can. It's not easy for me either. Especially when I think about how my independence was birthed from an early age as I too had a working mother, and also my tendency to not accept help, or shut others out because I didn't need anyone to
achieve,
succeed,
or rise above.
I know there is the potential for you to do that too.
The guilt we place on ourselves is immense, and usually unnecessary, but I think this is a different kind.
You see, the tension of yearning to be with you both, and to help other kids in my work find a sliver of the positive future that you have experienced is important.
I have birthed you both from my body, and have,
and will
give everything I have to you.
Time,
emotions,
love,
even possessions,
I'd gladly give it all.
But not every kid is so fortunate.
Not every parent is so lucky to have a working mom like I did.
Not every baby is born into a family that stops the world to experience the life that was created.
Not every parent can take maternity or paternity leave without having their finances severely altered.
Not every person knows the difference between surviving and thriving in life.
And that is what God has called me to do here with the short life that I've been given.
I was made to help those children--to care for God's people.
So while I silently suffer in grieving a "perfect" life with just you two, know that what I do is important, and it's necessary. The tears I cry when I come home late totally exhausted are okay, because I will always have room for you. You are from my body, but these other children are from the work of my hands. And sometimes they need hugs around their little bodies just like you do at night.
I'm sorry I can't stay home with you, hire every kind of house help possible to soak up every moment that you grow, mature and develop.
I'm sorry my phone isn't filled with daily pictures of the fun places we go, or the memories we make together.
I'm sorry not every meal is on time or even healthy.
I'm sorry I have little patience after work, or hold you only some of the time.
I'm sorry
and also
I love you.
With every breath that fills my lungs.
I love you.
My heart works overtime for you precious boys, and that will never change, work or not.
I'm sure you are overwhelmed with a multitude of emotions and feelings as you prepare to depart from office. No doubt you have felt nostalgic as you recall the past 8 years. And I would guess, being a parent myself, you look toward your children and immediately feel grateful that they are of such quality character despite the obstacles thrown in your face, or hateful rhetoric slung at your family that you so graciously addressed. You're a human being, I'm sure it hurt on the inside. But your demeanor on the outside? Superhuman to say the least. I'm grateful for all you've done for our country, and acknowledge that your service has put significant stress in your life, in your relationships, and like all other presidents I've seen, you've got a lot more gray hair now. Like, a lot.
As the countdown to inauguration day comes closer, I feel the pit in my stomach growing bigger and bigger. You see, our country right now is in turmoil. You know that. The hatred has been stirred, and rather than the leader of the people attempting to unify, he continues to belittle, to demean, to verbally assault those that attempt to call out his wrong doings. Our next president has not yet taken his oath, and already I feel my heart begin to mourn. Mourn for the loss of a compassionate nation, mourn for the loss of perseverance in gaining equal rights for all people, and I mourn the loss of our future, my family's future. The heavy weight adds to it's intensity every time his twitter account goes crazy, or every time I hear about another appointed official with so little integrity, he should be marked as having debt in character or human decency. I mourn our nation. And the grieving feels so debilitating that I just sit here and cry. I've never experienced the grief of such a big concept--something so abstract. Certainly of a loved individual, but never something so intangible as the loss of the future that has not yet occurred. You see, even if things stay exactly the same as they are now, and our next president does not add any positive contribution to this nation, but only maintains, he has still wasted 4 years. And although I operate from a strengths-based perspective, I have never found anything more challenging, than to look to our future with reassurance or hope. You don't know me, so I think it's appropriate to tell you that I never put my whole hope or trust in a man. God is the only force that I feel fairly certain is deserving of my trust in it's entirety. But that doesn't mean that I am unfeeling when it comes to our nation. I cannot simply insert the phrase, "God is still on His throne" or "I put my hope in the Lord alone" and become blissfully ignorant to the events that unfold before my eyes. Those statements are true, for me, but what good is a statement by itself? Action in this case is so much more appropriate.
So I will fight. A person's natural response is either fight, flight or freeze, and I am intentionally choosing fight. I will fight for what is fair, what is just, what is foundational to our growth as a nation of social individuals. We are humanity together, and I believe that design to be perfectly constructed even though the humans in humanity screw it up so often. I will fight for the things I value, and not be passive by putting up with or ignoring the injustice that is stripping our nation of its dignity. I will fight.
But for right now, I feel it necessary to grieve. Because this is the reality, and not reality tv, although the two seem to be interchangeable currently. Grief is important to experience because it makes us stronger, it paves the way for resiliency, and damn it America will be resilient. We are one nation, under God, indivisible, and no one power-hungry, narcissist can make that not so. With liberty, and justice for all.
With great humility and gratitude,
Andrea
