health
Why I Couldn’t Be A Mother Today
It was really just one of those days, I think we all know the type. Didn’t sleep good the night before, woke up to a “Flowy” visitor *rolls eyes and hugs abdomen… my husband worked late, and we had only wrapped up the holidays a few days before then. My 15 month old little girl had about 30 minutes before bed time and she was refusing to eat dinner. She made a funny face (my guess over a carrot skin), and promptly decided she wanted nothing to do with what was left on her high chair.
I was in the middle of cooking something else, wasn’t able to console her and after a couple of failed attempts of spoon feeding she was an outright mess. I’m talking tears. The big ones. One even fell on my hand (bonus points for mom guilt). Nose running, red eyes, deep scream – the works.
I was exhausted. I just wanted to do the right thing. If I pick her up to stop crying will that teach her I’m weak and she will assume authority over my emotions? Do I give her a bottle even though I’ve told her countless times that I want her to finish dinner? Do I try to make a statement about being the boss and ignore her frustration?
I tried to call my husband because please Lord let me pass the buck on this. No answer. So I stepped aside for a minute and said a tiny prayer for wisdom and that I wouldn’t scar my precious babe from my lack of experience as a parent.
Here we go.
I made a decision. I got the bottle ready.
While my little one was lying in my lap drinking said bottle I tried to explain to her…
“I want you to understand why I gave you the bottle. It’s not because you cried, although it makes me sad to see you cry, of course. I gave you the bottle because girl I know we both have had a long week. I gave you the bottle because I decided maybe you needed to be close to me instead of those beef and beans (sounds gross, tastes real good I promise, ha).”
Then we put our pajamas on, said our prayers and went to bed.
I’m thinking about what it means to be a mother. In my mind I’ve always thought of a “mother” as the letter of the law; she gives and takes no excuses, she has a schedule and she sticks to it. She’s no nonsense, and she’s tough. Maybe I don’t see a lot of Jesus in that image though. Not that there is anything wrong with organization and rules because how can you expect your life to function if you have no order…
But sometimes, you need a little grace. You don’t need “Mother”, you need “Mom”. You need the comforting, safety of someone who will listen to you with arms open wide (resisting quoting the band Creed). You need someone who will make a decision for you not based on a rule, but based on your individual needs.
So tonight, I was reminded of how much grace God gives me, and how thankful I am when He doesn’t throw rules in my face, but surrounds me in love. Tonight I was reminded of how many times God could have said, “Sorry Anna, rules are rules” but gave me a bottle and held me in his arms instead.
I’m reminded that Love isn’t about buckling or giving in, but it’s about personalized decisions based on personalized needs. And the the needs of a barely toddler are still pretty focused on cuddling.
Tonight when I looked down into the eyes of the little girl who is trusting me to lead her and teach her who she is, all I saw was eyes who needed me and who were thankful for the physical arms that held her.
Tonight I was thankful for the spiritual arms that hold me and who give me balance and grace.
Tonight I don’t think I held the role of Mother very well, but I was pretty damn okay with being Mom instead.
Why I Seriously Hate Being A Woman Sometimes…
I know, I know. International women’s day was JUST here and maybe it makes me less of a feminist or a traitor to my kind but seriously I just hate being a woman sometimes.
When you’re a single woman, you’re defined by such things as: career-driven success, sexual awareness, college degrees, if you model, where you live, if you have a boyfriend —
When you get engaged, you hear: how did he propose, how big is your ring, are you having a summer wedding, did you cry, how will you announce, who will your bridesmaids be and how will you ask them —
After you get married the silent questions of strangers are: how often do you have sex, does he post romantic, effortless, and natural sounding random things on Facebook about you, is he also a feminist, does he want kids right away, has the “honeymoon” phase worn off, do you guys fight now —
And of course after you have a baby: how did you give birth, was it natural, how long did you labor, what did you register for, how big is your baby, is she sitting up, is she smiling, is she rolling over, if so was it before mine, how much does she weigh now, can she talk yet, is she running because my 9 year old is running, does she speak 4 languages yet, oh you’re NOT getting vaccinated, does she sleep through the night, have her eyes changed color yet, and THE question – have you lost the baby weight —
Most people don’t come right out and say these but they are plastered all over our lives. I could throw up at how many times I’ve had women ask me if I want one of those wraps. Because I guess I look like the kind of person who is trying to “bounce back” in a hurry. Newsflash: babies. need. squish. They want boobs, real boobs to lay on. A soft tummy and nice floppy arms. They want to fall asleep on something they can sink into. But we are so obsessed with comparing ourselves to some other version of ourselves or other women that it feels like we’re doing something wrong if we don’t look like the “hot mom”.
I’m not condoning making unwise or unhealthy choices. Because we deserve to live well, and our bodies are worth taking care of. But real life mamas, they probably don’t have rock hard abs all the time. They just don’t. ********* Hey if you’re doing a workout program right now, or if you coach one, I’m not trying to be ugly. Because the world needs people like you. And there are a lot of mama’s who want and need some help getting things together again. You’re good people and keep it up.
I stepped on the scale the other day and I’m back in the 120’s, and I feel pretty great about that. And when I look at my belly, it’s still soft as a nice bowl of pudding, and I also feel pretty okay about that too. You know what I hate? I hate feeling like as soon as my personal growth is thrown out into the social media world, it’s combatted or surpassed by someone else’s bigger and better growth.
I don’t want people to know sometimes. I honestly don’t. Elena is such a good baby. She’s slept through the night since about 5 weeks. She was tongue tied and still figured out nursing like a champ. She has slept in her own room multiple times and doesn’t ever cry (unless that doggone pacifier falls out…), she naps on a schedule for usually over an hour and a half each time, I can bring her with me to any room I’m in and complete whatever housework I need to, she doesn’t hate being left alone, she loves people holding her but also is okay when they don’t, she likes sleeping on her own, she loves baths and showers and doesn’t even cry if water gets on her face, she loves our animals and she loves us so much – and I can feel she knows she is loved. But. Our lives are not perfect.
But the second that you tell the world all of your good news, you feel guilty. Or you get comments like, “just wait until the second gets here”. Or your friends don’t comment or like your statuses because it makes them feel bad if their baby doesn’t do that. Why do our lives revolve around the success or demise of other people to the extent that we can’t be happy for our sisters when good things happen to them.
Because yeah I stepped on that scale and saw a number that I liked. But 6 months ago when I was in the throes of late pregnancy, with the Alabama sun giving me real bad under boob sweat, I wasn’t liking the number I saw. But guess what. Literally every woman in the world feels like that about something. Big freaking deal.
Why can’t we laugh at the struggles in our own lives and push them aside when someone needs our support more. This is when I hate the Instagram world so much. These beautiful women who post beautifully posed and edited pictures of their lives, with or without kids – the message is the same. It has created this bubble of lies that we all fall into. This need to be a perfectly edited picture. Not real. Not with acne, not with bed head hair that doesn’t look cute, not with clothes that don’t fit us yet.
This need for women to be a certain way and look a certain way and present themselves in a certain way, we want to say it’s because of men but it’s not. We do this to ourselves and each other.
Enough. Just enough of it, already. Honestly I could care less about how far you got in college. Why? Because it’s your business not mine. I think it’s awesome that your baby was born with a full set of adult teeth and speaking complex sentences. Whatever. It literally means nothing about my baby or my life. I don’t care if you go out and model on the weekends and I don’t. Why? Because why should I care.
I think we are so far away from loving each other. We present this “feminism” idea of supporting and empowering one another but I have never in my life encountered so many women on a regular basis that struggle with depression and/or anxiety.
Would it be so impossible to just be a blank slate. Be friendly to each other, love on each other, support one another’s success and don’t try to make it about yourself. Can we try to not be so insecure in our own strengths that we have to tear apart other women’s fears in order to make our own not seem so scary.
Feeling Rusty
I know I haven’t posted anything in a long time. A LONG time. I’ve been dedicating most of my blog writing to WaB, and I just haven’t found a lot of personal things to say.
Honestly these past 10 months have been hard. Phil and I are stationed in South Korea (although we’re back in the States right now for an Army class -his class, not mine-) and it has been one of the most isolating seasons of my life.
I’ve gone over several ideas for a community outreach project. Something that involves me giving back a little of my time. Something small, you know. Like buying a stranger coffee, and listening to them talk for an hour. Something like Humans of New York. But the farther into the idea I get, I feel like the more discouraged I get. And I don’t think I struggle with depression as a whole, but I’ve seriously doubted that a few times in the past year.
Complacency, apathy, and just a lot of self-pity too.
I’ve applied for a job, and although the hiring process is taking an extremely long time. I think it’s really going to help with everything. I think it’ll help me feel more involved and like I’m still an independent person.
Anyway, this post isn’t really anything other than something to help me get back on my writers’ feet. Make those words easier to find. You know?
Basic DIY Coffee Scrub
So I’m sure by now you’ve tried a coffee scrub or two, but just in case you haven’t tried MAKING one, I’m here today to help you out.
I won’t lie to you, Frank Body Scrub is one of my favorite things; they figured out the right way to scrub, I mean that’s all there is to it. But, if you don’t have access to Frank or are a little pinched budget-wise, or if you just wanna skip the middle man and flaunt your independent woman/man ways and impress all your friends, then I can help.
I’ve taken the liberty of trying about a billion different scrub variations for you, I know I know, I’m your best friend. It’s okay. I’m by no means a professional, and I’m not making any claims as to what this can or cannot do and this shouldn’t necessarily be used as a “prescription” to fix anything… but what good is a girl without an opinion, right?
So I used the coffee grounds left from our coffee maker, but we grind our coffee ourselves and I think this actually makes two big differences. 1) the coffee tastes a lot more fresh and flavorful, and 2) the smaller the grounds, the deeper the grounds can go/ the more exfoliating it will be.
You have to really adjust your measurements depending on how much you want to make. But I used about 8 cups (of coffee) worth.
I also used organic extra-virgin olive oil, brown sugar, a little salt, vanilla essential oil and cinnamon bark essential oil. (Obviously you don’t have to use the oils, but if you have any on hand that are good for skin it definitely wouldn’t hurt to put them in)
I’ve always used coconut oil but after coconut oil sits for awhile, it develops a very musky smell. Almost like stale butter or something? I don’t know, but on your skin, mixed with the smell of coffee, it still smells good but a little weird. Also coconut oil is VERY oily. Which I love. I made a scrub once and accidentally put way too much oil in there but I didn’t even mind because it made my skin so soft.
But maybe you wouldn’t like it, you know? You’ve really got to try it all for yourself.
Sea salt is really ideal but for whatever reason I can’t seem to find it anywhere, so I just used table salt and I like it fine. Salt really detoxes your skin and pulls out a lot of impurities, so I love my scrubs to have a little at least.
You can really put anything in that you want, and play around with how you want the texture and consistency to be. Ideally though, when you mix everything together, it should be a little dry feeling. Test it out on your hands and when you rinse, if your hands feel soft then that’s enough oil, but if it feels like you just washed your hands with soap maybe add a little more.
Also I try to rinse my body with water, turn the water off, put the scrub on, and let it sit for a little bit, scrub harder on areas with cellulite, scars or acne. But if you have oily skin make sure to rinse it off well enough. Too much oil will make you break out! (Trust me on that one).
It’s good to scrub probably twice a week, but maybe not every day. Scrubbing too much could tear your skin follicles and not give them a chance to heal.
The scrub can be left in the shower for about a week and a half, but with all the humidity from the water it’s a good idea to change it regularly so bacteria doesn’t have a chance to grow. And if you include any perishable items (fruit, avocados, nuts, egg whites or yolks, etc.) treat it with extra care and ere on the side of caution. It’s better to throw away a little rather than put anything that could be moldy on your face!!
If you have any questions then comment below and feel free to comment!
Just Dill With It, Okay?
Man, I just love dill. When I worked at a wedding venue I had the pleasure of assisting in some of the catering preparation and we made these delightful cucumber canapes, which featured an absolutely insane dill spread. It was there that my love for dill was birthed and I have never looked back. It’s such an underrated herb; with such a light taste that can accent or star as the main seasoning. It leaves your mouth tasting fresh and your stomach feeling like whatever you just ate must have been healthy for you. What a hidden gem. One of my staples in cooking, no matter the occasion, or time of the day, it is always appropriate to dash (or splash) some dill on, making every main entree a starlet, in the limelight of glory, just waiting to be devoured.
Well I’ve been wondering lately, is it really the dill that I love so much, or is it perhaps that I have found something I like and am using it in excess in hopes of everything will be just as good as those canapes. I have known myself to do this at times. To find something that I love so much, and then ruthlessly push myself into perfectionism trying to make all of my 7 or so years of cooking (or learning to cook) add up to my teacher’s more than twenty. It’s so challenging sometimes to see the end result, to know what it looks like, what it tastes like, what it feels like, and yet not have the experience to make that ideal thing belong to me.
It’s like how you can go have a lunch (or go to a marriage conference) with an older couple who have years and years of experiences, memories, doing it right and wrong, and ultimately who have put time and patience into their relationship, and now are seeing the fruit of that. They have a great relationship. And you go home, and have to deal with still having crap in your own relationship and life. Hearing women talk about how they’ve dealt with some really difficult challenges, and how they came out the other side victorious, and really wanting to do the same thing, but just not bring at that place yet… well that can just really suck.
Phil and I had the same sort of thing happen to us. We heard all of this information of how to work through your problems, how wonderful it was to be in a marriage with a man who loves you and a woman who loves you, and basically seeing the “light” (so to speak) at the end of the tunnel of what an amazing marriage could look like – and then we came back to reality, and honest to God tried to apply everything that we had learned and really wanted to work through in a mature, loving, patient and kind manner.
Well THAT sure didn’t work.
We still had the exact same problems, if not a few more stirred up. And we went through an entire week of bickering at each other, pushing out every kind of negativity you probably could imagine, and ultimately being just so confused that it was happening, because we really thought we were going to do so good. And I suppose it wasn’t that we were doing bad, but gathering all of that stuff together and trying to make six months into twenty years in a day just does not happen. And that is so frustrating. Why can I just not be perfect, already?! Why is that I know that I’m just word vomiting all over him, and I know it’s wrong and I know what I’m supposed to be doing but I can just not seem to get a handle on myself.
After a long week of feeling distant from each other, seriously irritated with each other, and more short tempered than we had ever been, we decided to go for a drive. He just picked a direction and drove, and it was on a long road going to nowhere we came to peace with each other and the fact that we just are, where we are. And trying to get anywhere that fast wasn’t going to work for either of us. Really it’s trying to cheat the system. It’s wanting to get to the end without doing half of the work.
So we looked at each other, forgave one another (and ourselves) and released each other to just take our time in getting to twenty years. And since then, our home has been at peace. Dealing with it doesn’t always necessarily mean taking all of your issues and shoving them down each others throats (okay, it never means that), but sometimes it means accepting life for what it is, imperfect and sometimes a little rocky. Sometimes I mix weird things with dill that don’t taste good, and the only thing I can do afterwards is suck up my pride, let go of the expectation that I set on myself to be perfect at everything, and live life a little better. Turns out, it’s much better.
Anna’s Crispy Baked Dill Drumsticks
However Many Drumsticks You Want
Whatever Herbs You Want
Some Oil
Some Salt (I Used Garlic Salt)
So you preheat the oven to 425 degrees (Fahrenheit) and try to separate the chicken skin from the meat
and stuff your herbs in there. I used fresh basil, thyme, and of course dill. Bake it for like 22 minutes and turn them over,
and bake for another 25 minutes or so.
Anna’s Homemade Chips
I Used 4 Medium Red Potatoes and 1 Sweet Potato
Some Oil
Some Coarse Sea Salt
Some Dried Dill
Some Garlic Salt
Just A Little Cayenne Pepper
These can be baked at the same time and temperature as the drumsticks.I sliced them thinly,
and put them on oiled foil, in a single layer with no overlaps. I turned them over when the first timer
for the chicken went off. But they came out a little before the second timer, it just really depends
on how you like your chips. I put them in a bowl lined in paper towels and added the salt, cayenne, and dill just gradually,
and gave them a nice shake to evenly coat them. But you can add whatever you like.
Oh My Grainess, What A Surprise
Oatmeal. Can you say, a horrendous pile of mush that to this day haunts my childhood and puts a damper on all of the good things of life. Despite my beautiful mother’s best efforts, this was despised… because let’s face it. Cream of wheat was just better. It wasn’t oatmeal’s fault that it gets stuck in your throat and makes you feel like your trying to suck on your food and chew it at the same time. It was just terrible.
However I have very recently discovered a new love for this healthy, appetite-curving, bowl of possibilities. And to be quite honest I do have to choke down some milk in-between bites of flax seeds and quinoa. But I am desperately trying to make my beer and pizza-loving-body back into a green pepper and cherry tomato digesting machine. Life is harder when you don’t have Mom’s garden constantly pumping out delicious, sun-warmed vegetables that taste like God kissed them all individually. I finally understand what being an adult means, and my diet has suffered greatly for it.
I have always been something of a sucker for being inspired and inspiring in return. Oh my goodness give me any sort of romantic montage, any story of a man loving a woman, tango dancing and the passion required to do so, any movie including sisters loving each other, dad’s coming home, babies being born, people realizing the beauty in life, army families, patriotism for America, songs about people coming together, bonding with girls in public bathrooms because of our mutual hair issues…. I’m just such a sap for that stuff. I weep at the idea of Jesus being in love with me, and when Phil brings me home chocolate milk that has no additives or high fructose corn syrup.
So how do you turn such a bland and sticky monster of a cereal into something life-altering and motivating.
You don’t. You embrace the gross and take it for what it is. Something that is good for you. And part of doing things that are good for you is accepting that they might not always taste good, but the result of them will be much better. It might not be the thing that sparks my taste buds and makes my mouth feel like it’s in flavor town but, my legs will appreciate those oats a lot more than any number of beers.
I know sometimes admitting I’m wrong, or I did something wrong, or apologizing for things that I don’t think are wrong but that hurt someone else, well that feels like someone is asking me to eat a bowl of bark and like it. I can feel every single issue I struggle with rear up and get just infuriated. And it tastes like you took the leftover bark and made a milkshake with sap. And I have to drink it with a smile.
But! Like an hour after that’s all over (okay not a whole hour), I am so glad that I did apologize. Because even if I didn’t do anything wrong. Just the fact that our relationship is growing and we’re becoming more attune to one another and the things we both struggle with, is well worth it.
So the grain. The oats. The mess. It’s completely worth it to know that I am taking care of myself and my body.
(Well that’s what I’m telling myself anyway)
Anna’s Bowl of Oatmeal
– I never measure anything so just eyeball as you will –
A Cup of Oats
A Few Tablespoons of Flax Seeds
A Few Tablespoons of Red Quinoa
A Few Tablespoons of Brown Sugar
A Couple Spoons of Greek Yogurt
Some Fruit
I cooked the oatmeal with flax seeds, and quinoa first.
I just put enough water to soak all the oats and let it heat up.
It all depends on how you like your oatmeal really.
After the oats are soft I added the sugar, yogurt and fruit.
And then I ate it.
And it wasn’t half bad.
Time For A Tea-Off
There is something so romantic about summer. The heat, the food and drinks, the sundresses, the stars seem brighter, lakes are warm, garden vegetables rule the kitchen counter, beer is colder, hot dogs become a staple and America itself takes on another form. Now of course everyone will complain about how excruciating the sun is in the later months, but we all know we love it. Everyone looks better tan and fit, let’s be honest. I think it kind of becomes the standard for other seasons, because not that we’re actually better looking… but because we FEEL like we are.
Oh it’s a strange phenomenon, and I have tried to explain it many a’time only to get bewildered and suspicious looks from my sweet fellow.
“No Phil, I KNOW my legs are thin but today I FEEL like they are… I know I’m pretty but right now I just FEEL pretty.”
Anybody out there know what I’m talking about?
And for me the biggest season of self-appreciation is the warmest season, the time and place to wear clothes that flatter my figure and promise to not make me look bulky.
This could explain why ladies tan year round, because our teeth are three shades whiter, our legs look less flabby (we’ve ALL got a little flab here and there), our hair gets those cute streaks in it and well… the world is brought back to a good place.
And I’d say one of the biggest stars of summer is iced tea for sure. This guy is really popular no matter the weather outside, especially in the south is this particular beverage high on the drink-all-the-time list. I don’t really care for the iced tea you get from most restaurants, I find it to be way too sweet and one of the reasons we Americans have lost our sense of proper sugar intake, leading of course to obesity/diabetes and many other horrible and dangerous diseases – but that’s not the point of this blog-
We have had a jug of iced tea sitting on our fridge for a good couple of months now, in fact we had two before I insisted in throwing out ONE of the expired gallons. How is it possible that we could let something sit and sit and get pretty smelly, and not dispose of it in the plastic container not even three feet away?!
It’s crazy to think that there could be such a big issue so close to us, and how long we let it fester and build up bacteria until we do something about it.
I mean, how many times have I done the exact same thing with psychological or spiritual issues. Like a blog post ago, when I was talking about bitterness… and that just has to be one of the most rotten things around, how it literally does rot your body… cancer, osteoporosis, tooth decay… they all come from extended forms of bitterness. Ew, rght? Assuming that your body is like your figurative house, then that would make your heart your fridge, and that bitterness is that jug of rotting sweet tea. Maybe seeming harmless at first, I mean everybody lets food sit for too long sometimes, everyone does a little judging sometimes, everybody gets upset sometimes, and it seems that it’s usually because we feel mistreated. Like someone or something is imposing on our rights.
We are HUGE about having all these rights; we have the right to do what we want, when we want, how we want, with who we want, and we can say what we want to whomever, whenever, in whatever manner we care to. I know it probably sounds like I’m exaggerating a little but I find that the majority of arguments in my relationships are over an expectation that has been broken, a standard that I set up in my head that the other person didn’t know anything about, and as a result I’m upset that I’m getting something other than what I bargained for. Something less, at that. Someone is cheating me out of what is rightfully mine, and I am just appalled they have the nerve to even TRY to pull a fast one on me. Now I am generalizing a little because obviously people aren’t that petty.
(……..)
Can we throw the tea out, already? Make a different kind, maybe? Can we possibly take that rot… look at it for what it is, and dispose of it. Because whether it’s iced tea or bitterness, it’s stinking up your house and heart. Everybody who walks near can smell it, and maybe they want to be polite and leave you to your own trash… but they know it’s there. Have you encountered someone with bitterness? It just reeks off of them doesn’t it? Everything they say and do is covered with negativity and a bad attitude. What’s worse is that, iced tea doesn’t care if he’s gross and making your beautiful home smell like a dumpster, it’s not HIS house so why should it matter to him? And bitterness, why should bitterness care if you’re miserable, huh? It’s not his bones that are rotting, it’s not his body that is in pain and infectious.
And I’m not one to say that this is a simple or an easy thing, no matter what anyone might think. That tea is still in my fridge for one reason or another. Whether it’s just lack of motivation to keep my kitchen sanitary, maybe it’s me avoiding the issues in my house… but at some point, I’m going to have to dump that tea out. And it will smell wretched, and it might clog my sink, but thankfully I know that tea will not have the best of me. I will not go down as the one who let the tea sit out too long. And you shouldn’t be either.
There’s an expression, or quote, or I heard it somewhere one time… that if you’re not helping the world become a better place then you’re helping it become a worse one? Those words have always made me feel like crap, like I had to go save a puppy from one of those shelter commercials or I wasn’t doing my part as a decent human being. Well I don’t know if it’s all as intense as that, and I have to keep reminding myself that maybe me making the world better is merely forgiving my sister for that one thing she did that one time a billion years ago when we were kids, or not getting offended and thinking my friend hates me when she gives me some well-needed fashion advice. And I guess I would just say the same thing to you, that the next time you make your iced tea, you think better thoughts… you speak more love to the people around you, you forgive faster and you clean house a little more often. I promise it will be worth it.
Anna’s Mango, Basil, Mint Iced Tea
Very Ripe Mango
Handful of Basil
Handful of Mint
Couple Spoons of Brown Sugar
Little Splash of Bourbon or Whiskey
I pureed my mango, then added the herbs and blended them all,
but it would be MUCH better to crush the herbs and grind them down first.
Brew whatever kind of tea you’d like,
I use black tea. Add the puree and sugar to tea and give it a nice stir.
Add bourbon to your own taste and put in a TON of ice.
-I’m sure you all know how to make decent tea.
Just A Cup of Things
It’s way too late in the day for me to be having my “morning” coffee, and I’m sure I will reap the consequences around 10:30 tonight when all I want to do is sleep.
I had a birthday this past weekend and I don’t know if this has ever happened to you, but I have found that Satan always does his best to twist the best things in our life into things that are complicated, heavy, frustrating and ultimately disappointing. What an asshole, right? Like, it’s not like we don’t have enough to fill up our lives with already; what with paying rent and monthly bills, spending too much on beauty products and experimenting with household products to find that million-dollar recipe for DIY face masks, doing our best to keep our bodies, hearts and houses clean, keeping up with children (I don’t have any but I imagine that has to be a project), keeping up with NOT having kids, working through relationships in our lives, and well let’s face it… just being human is a bowl full of “gimme a break here” a lot of the time. So no, we don’t need any extra help making life into a mess.
Unfortunately for us, the only salary the devil requires from making more mayhem is watching it happen and enjoying our peace being taken away.
This time last year, someone was taken out of my life that had been a HUGE contribution to almost every aspect of my heart, my personal growth, my spiritual enlightening, I mean you name it – they were a part of it. So obviously this was a hard break, and it definitely broke my heart. I sat outside, chain-smoked the rest of my cigarettes and just stared at the road, just unable to think or do anything. I couldn’t even contemplate what was happening, or why God would allow it to. I was more invested in this than anything else in my life, how could I have gone wrong, how could something so special and so important be ripped from my existence in just a mere moment.
Well I sat for what felt like hours and hours, and finally I just looked at the clouds and asked God if He was still there. And after a minute I knew I was there too. And though it didn’t change the situation or my hurt heart, I knew everything was bound to be okay. And I gave my heart back to God, and since I apparently had no idea what I needed or what my heart knew for sure, I asked Him to make me a new heart and to show me what love is.
And a few weeks later… He did.
Well I guess that would have been a really great place to stop, right? End it with the uniting of me and the man that I love? I mean can we say classic romantic comedy plot? What people in movies don’t tell you though, is between the smiles and the good memories in the making, and the inside jokes and all the really beautiful moments… well there are some really challenging times. And if the past loves to do anything, it’s chase you and if you aren’t careful, it will haunt you. And as we all work through seasons in our lives of growing, and being new people and moving forward, there tend to be moments of very hard conflict.
And what was at one moment just a loving admiration of a man who is stable, and inspiring, and a wonderful leader… is now a disdain for him because he doesn’t do what I “need” him to, he isn’t as prince charming as I thought and marriage is just really turning out be pretty hard. The great times are now good times, the good times are now fine times, and the fine times are just okay. And our life together has transformed into this ugly picture of people who just deal with each other.
How exhausting, right.
I spent the good part of the weekend reveling over my bitterness toward him, myself and of course God for ever getting me into this mess, all without telling him because I didn’t want any of the issues I was struggling with to be real. I didn’t want to be having issues, I just wanted to see him in a perfect light all the time, I didn’t want to be the wife with mood swings or outbursts of anger. However, that’s denial. Because I was struggling, and I was having issues, and I was absolutely miserable over the fact that I was having a hard time and couldn’t solve it myself. Why couldn’t I just get it right, why couldn’t he just magically know what I needed, why was I upset over something that I knew wasn’t right to be upset over, but I was anyway.
My birthday rolled around and for about the first half of the day we didn’t really say a whole lot to each other. We talked, but we both knew something wasn’t alright with us.
Finally I told him. I unleashed the manifest of my heart and broke open my gates of steel and threw my vulnerability at him and braced myself for him to not understand, to be hurt that I was unhappy, to take it personally, to think horribly of me. But he put his arm around me, and he just said,
“Ah yeah, I understand… that’s the worst.”
And then he let me talk, and talk and talk and talk. And anyone knows the relief of being able to expose your heart for what it is and have it received with compassion and empathy, and how healing it can be. We sat on our couch, in our house, with the shades open to a stormy evening, drank wine and just talked as equals. Talked about one another’s struggles and the way the enemy works and how to overcome it.
And I felt my heart regain comfort and peace. And I looked at him, and had a little mini-revelation of God’s mercy and plan for my life. Which may not seem like a big deal, but if there is anything I have learned so far it’s that those moments where you can see another person in the light that God made them in, well it’s like you’re witnessing a miracle, seeing the world a little better, regaining faith in the unknown, jumping back into the river, getting back onto the horse… and all those types of things.
Life will constantly change, people will sometimes change, and the only way through it all is depending on the only thing that never changes (and I think we all know what that is). The past is the past for a reason, it has to be, and if it wasn’t then it wouldn’t be the past, it would be your present or future.
Life In The Flax Lane
Eating Healthy. Well it just sucks half the time doesn’t it? With bikini season coming up, I have started to become all-too aware of the little edges of my body that need fine tuning. Who even started the bikini fad anyhow? I know several women who aren’t too keen on getting body parts waxed every three weeks JUST to not have stubble in places that shouldn’t be looked at that close anyhow! And yet on every social media account I have there is a wave of treadmills, workout ponytails, and headphone selfies to drive any woman mad with panic. Beach season is a HUGE season for jealousy and competition with women. Who has the cuter clothes, who looks better in shorter dresses, who has the most perfect pictures with their tanned and 6-packed boyfriends, who has the skimpier (but she can get away with it) 2-piece…. it makes me feel like I’m watching the “pizza and beer” scene from Miss Congeniality all over again. And ironically, those happen to be two of my most beloved food groups.
So I hope I don’t seem rude or come across as inconsiderate, but I think the whole thing is a bunch of bologna (there’s a pun to be found in there somewhere). I think that there is a craze, and the need to be thin, tan, beautiful, and charming with a mint mojito in my hand is a bit ridiculous. Maybe this isn’t a real thing anymore and maybe girls don’t think this every time they step on a scale, but I know the last time I stared at myself in the mirror, this is what I felt… so if there’s just one other girl in the world who feels like I do – sister, I’ve got your back. And I think this is a really dumb problem, because I would really love to enjoy my summer and not worry about if the little dimples in my legs. And yes, although I thought my mom was lying to make me feel better, we do all get those dimples at some point.
Okay, so here’s where I’m going. I think that we are missing the point. Girls, it’s not hard to find a blog or a t-shirt, or a Twitter site or a Facebook post nowadays that doesn’t affirm us as beautiful, individual, independent and unique human beings, but out of all of those words… how many do we believe. Well, I guess I’ll speak for myself, how many do I believe. Do I really think that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made, for that matter do I even know what that means?! I know that if I sit in church and listen to my Pastor talk about the heart of a woman, how special we are, how needed we are, then I walk away with a little bounce in my step and feeling like the world is my oyster.
But… when I look at myself and wish my boobs were bigger, or that my hair would be either be straight OR curly but cut it out on being both, when I reject what I see and wish I had something else… I’m calling God a liar. And I’m saying that what He made isn’t good enough, and I want to change it, I want it bigger, or smaller, or thinner, or plumper… I want to be a different me. If you created a person, if you put time and effort and sweat and blood* into this person, put your dreams and hopes and desires and made them so special, and then watched them turn around and look at you and say,
“I’m sorry, I know you made this but it just isn’t good enough.”
Well, how would you feel.
Not to get super serious, or make this a downer, but honestly can we all agree that if you believe you were made in the image of God, that MAYBE you should just chill out a little? Now this doesn’t go to say that if you are unhealthy or drinking ten shots of tequila every night that you should be surprised to see a little extra baggage, and in such case some exercise would be advised. But my point is, we’re looking at it all wrong! We should be loving ourselves first! And then looking at the areas of our lives that need work. Because even if it couldn’t hurt for me to lose a couple pounds, if I hate myself… it’s gonna take a whole lot longer. And feeling happy releases chemicals in your body which speed up your metabolism. It’s science. Boom.
I think the focus should stop being on the external and start (or keep on) being on the internal. And when I stand before myself in the mirror, accepting myself for everything that I am, and am not. Be flirty with yourself every once in awhile. It may feel really silly to wink at yourself or admire that little thing you got going on there, but do it!
Life IS actually really short, and I want to say and do things that matter. And also one more thought, that girl who was sitting next to you who kiiinnnnddd of gave you a dirty look so you gave her one back and now you two are on the fast track for mutual evaluation and annihilation, why not practice something different. I have found that the first look you give to someone is very important, and if you smile at someone, chances are, they’re gonna smile back. I mean seriously girls, it’s really easy for us all to be friends, and who really cares about the guy who designed your purse anyway.
*I don’t actually know if God has sweat or blood. But if He does, I’m sure it smells of mahogany and pine trees… His sweat that is, I don’t think His blood would smell like anything. That would be weird. Unless it does…. Eh… I’ll just leave that up to you to decide.
Chew On The Write Words 