9 Things I’ve Learned Through Blogging

Blogging is much more difficult than I expected. It’s not only attempting to write content that’s engaging. There’s grammar, punctuation, spelling, wording…and then there’s the self discovery. This one I was not prepared for.

In writing a blog about my life experiences I’ve been  forced to examine what I think, feel, and believe about everything. Since I’m a storyteller and not a fiction writer (there is a difference) I cannot, in good conscience, write lies to my readers.Truth be told (pun intended) I’m a horrible liar Period! Zero poker face.Gambling is not in my future.cannot tell a lie

I can sense a post straying from authenticity when I lose my ‘flow’. If I am completely at peace with my story the words tumble out so quickly that I can scarcely type fast enough to catch them on paper. The moment I dig up and Un Truth my words become forced. That’s when I know something about the subject hasn’t been settled. There’s anger or pain still lingering. Or the really fun discovery of how far away my perceptions were from reality. Man , I Hate that one!

perception vs reality

This truth telling endeavor has uncovered more self deception than I anticipated. Here are some examples of my most frequently used :

It’s not that bad

It didn’t really bother me

I’m fine

I should have known better

It’s my fault

When the truth is:

It WAS that bad

It more than bothered my. It was devastating

I was so Not fine

I  couldn’t see a better way

It wasn’t my fault

The thing about this Archaelogical Truth Excavation is that instead of being IN the situations I can now look AT them. When you’re IN something you can’t see all aspects of it. When you’re looking AT something you can take it all in , walk around it, away from it, observe it from afar. The distance allows me to assess the past more objectively and come to terms with it’s impact on my life both good and bad.

Another thing about a personal blog is that it’s so, well…..PERSONAL. I don’t get to look you in the eye while I narrate my life and discern whether or not I should censor something based on your smile or your recoil.I have No idea whose reading this, what their reaction is, or how they’re judging me. Imagine reading your diary out loud in front of a full auditorium wearing a bikini. *shudder*

Writing this blog has also been a test of my faith in God. I never would have begun this journey if He hadn’t nagged me relentlessly for about a year. Seriously, it was like a toddler saying “mama.mama.mama.mama.” Except it sounded like, “you gonna write it? How about now? Now? How about now? Now is good do it now”…To which my very mature response was,’FINE! If it gets you off my back I’ll do it!” I’ll bet God loves my obedient nature.

I really didn’t know who I was writing for or what the purpose was. I still don’t know who I might be helping or even if I am .Not worrying about that takes an incredible amount of trust in God. I want to write content that people will like. I’m a people pleaser. This is my thing. The minute I start obsessing over whether or not you guys will like it – I lose the flow. I have to give up control over it and let God do what He will with what He inspires me to write.

So here is the list of the Top 9 Things I’ve Discovered about Myself while Blogging:

  1. I’m impatient and impulsive. (Those of you who are already saying, ‘Duh!’ , Stop it.) This one is evidenced in how quickly I mash the Publish button before proofreading/improving a post.
  2. I’m still healing.  I’ve moved from Hot Mess to Lukewarm.
  3. I’m more confident than I realized. depends on the day.
  4. I’m more insecure than I realized. depends on the day.
  5. I still hate my ex husband. Like, a lot. I’ve tried so many times to write about him and my marriage. I can’t.It would just be hate mail. This ones a work in progress.
  6. My motives are not always where they should be I have to check my self on who I’m writing for. Me & you or God.
  7. I care too much what other people think. #peoplepleaser
  8. I don’t give a rip what other people think #recoveringpeoplepleaser
  9. Giving up control isn’t the same as losing control holding on tightly crushes things. Loosening your grip lets them expand.

There you have it. We’ve covered squashing self deception, being transparent, giving up control, and obedience. See how Fun this is?!! You can’t wait to start your blog now, can you?

In all honesty, (no pun intended) I love every minute of it. It’s challenging. It forces me to do something I’ve never done and to move ahead into unknown territory. This is exactly the kind of project that Thrills me! I thank all of you who stop by for sharing this journey with me. My deepest desire is that you find treasures that make you giggle or give you hope or maybe dislodge you from being stuck somewhere. It’s not easy in the least, but I can genuinely say – it’s worth it.

trust in the Lord

Everything I Know about Fighting I Learned from my Son

If you fell down yesterday stand up todayIf you met me today, you would say that I was a fighter. A strong woman who won’t take sass from anyone. Such was not always the case. I suppose I have always been competitive. In fact, I’m Sure I’ve always been competitive both with myself and others. We may be friends, but if you play a card game with me the gloves come off! 😉 Fighting however is a different matter altogether.  Being sexually abused stunted my growth in so many ways.I didn’t get the chance to learn to fight small skirmishes and build my stamina over the years. I lost the first battle. A huge battle. And the scars went to the core. Instead of coming out of it with my fists raised to the sky I learned to contract into myself. Curl into a little roly poly until the danger passes. If fighting and losing was going to hurt that badly then why do it at all.

Then I had my son. There’s something about holding a tiny defenseless baby that smells like heaven.Instinct and love tell you that you must do whatever it takes to protect this child. That’s what ‘good’ parents do, right? What if you don’t know how to fight? What if the idea of it grips you with terror? If my son asked me how I learned to fight, I’d tell him this:

From the time I was pregnant I fought the nausea, the weight gain, the labor pains. When they let me take you home, I fought the panic that I had no idea what I was doing.

I warred against insecurity, ignorance, and impatience.

Croup, ear infections,and teething became my world and I fought for sleep.I wrestled to comfort you, quiet you, soothe you to no avail.In the morning I went to work and fought to stay awake.

I fought to maintain your home in the face of my divorce and when your father threatened to abduct you, I fought to hide you and keep you safe in my arms.

As a single mom I struggled to support us, to find time with you between jobs, to make sure you felt loved and not left.

School was hard for you and I campaigned for your education, to understand you, to support you.

They diagnosed you soon with ADD and then with Bipolar disorder and I rose up against dread. I battled to get appointments, good doctors, the right medications. I pushed against their assumptions of your bleak future and counter argued with hope.I devoured every piece of information on mental illness and armed myself with knowledge.

As you slept at night and I sat by your bed and cried. I fought the fear that I could never be worthy of being the parent you needed. I cried out to God for the strength to be your champion.

I waged war with  broken school systems and burned out teachers. I stood strong during IEP meetings and counseling sessions. I became the parent who wouldn’t take back down because of bureaucracy.

I fought bad influences and bullies. Internet filth and video game overload.

In the most challenging combat I put myself as a barrier between you and your stepfather’s cruelty. Some battles I won, but too many were lost.  Paralyzing fear attempted to keep me down but with each encounter I slowly learned to stand for us.

I endeavored  to discipline you, teach you , love you, protect you. Sometimes; many times; from yourself.

I fought my own demons and dark.

I went to war on my knees in fervent prayer. Over and over and over.

I fought against you. You fought against me. And sometimes, we fought together.

When you became my prodigal son I fought to teach you responsibility, accountability, consequences. I fought to be a good parent (whatever that is)

You pulled away and I fought to be part of your world, to let you go without losing you, to accept your differences, and to make you know that my love was eternal.

Fighting for you gave me strength. Praying for you deepened my faith. With every blow I landed for you another one of my own demons went down and I found my armor, piece by piece. My son, I know I gave you life, but you gave me back mine.


Breaking Ties with Toxic

Recently, I was listening to a dear friend of mine talk about how difficult it was to break away from a toxic family member . She feels torn. Sad. Angry. Family is supposed to help each other; not hurt one another. Maybe if she just ignored him . What if she was nicer? Wait, what if she confronted him?! Then he’d see how much he was hurting everyone and he would change! She feels like she needs to repair the relationship because that’s what good Christians do. We are supposed to turn the other cheek; 70 times 7 and all that stuff. Right?

Her dilemma resonated so deeply with me. I spent most of my life believing those lies and only had the strength and wisdom to change about 5 years ago.I am a recovering Enabler. We are the people who want to help everyone and fix everything. You can usually spot us by the heart on our sleeves and our rose colored glasses. We truly believe there is good in everyone no matter how much $%^& it’s buried under. I’m not saying this is inherently a bad thing. I still believe there is (mostly) good in everyone. The difference is I now recognize the people who want to change for their betterment and those that don’t.Guard your heart

Toxic people are the ones that give you that ‘ugh’ feeling in the pit of your stomach. They are the ones that make you cringe when you see them on your caller ID. The ones that leave you feeling drained and unsettled after being with them. My sister has been instrumental in teaching me this. While I ignored the ‘ugh’, thinking I could somehow love the jerks out of their jerkiness, she was walking the other way saying, ‘Ain’t nobody got time for that!’ Hence, I married two of the jerks and finally , after learning a thing or two, married my Knight.

What I learned in my 40 years wandering The Desert of Enable, is that truly toxic people are so wrapped up in themselves that they aren’t aware or concerned that you’re being hurt.They need and they need and they need. And we, the big hearted wide eyed enablers keep on loving and loving and loving. We find it hard to leave because we just can’t understand Why they act this way. If only we could categorize it somehow maybe then we could fix it. Unfortunately, Toxics don’t change until THEY realize that they have a problem.

My other Desert lesson was this: Forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting or accepting. Forgiving them means that I take my anger and frustration to God and let Him deal with it. (This.Is.HARD! Honestly, punching them would feel far more satisfying and be much quicker but I haven’t found any scripture to back up this method yet. Still looking.)

God tells me to forgive those who hurt me, but He never says to roll over and be used and abused. In fact, He says, “Above all else, guard your heart for everything you do flows from it.” Ps. 4:23. As a mother and an artist, I need a clean open heart in order to love and create. If I let someone in who chooses to fill me with poison, then my ability to love is stunted and my ability to create is diminished!

There have been times when I confronted a Toxic with their behaviour and they were truly repentant and worked to make amends and repair my broken trust. Other times, my Come to Jesus meetings with Toxics have not gone so well. Those times I’ve been yelled at, put down, and told I was the crazy one and maybe if I was a better wife, friend, mother… they would be happier. Sometimes, the best way to forgive And save your heart is through prayer at a distance.Perhaps, sometimes ‘turning the other cheek’ means turning and walking the other way.

The Most Powerful Words

Let’s talk about the big white elephant in the room….I’m scared. Yep. Scared as hell that I am about to put some of my life stories on the internet. Scared of being transparent (not my favorite thing) and scared of being judged. But here’s what I’m even more afraid of…Not doing it. The words need to be written. Words that form instant bonds between unlikely souls. Words that make you feel loved, accepted, and understood. Sometimes shouted and often times whispered tearfully there are two words that can change lives. “Me too.”

“Me too” builds alliances and friendships. It creates hope that ‘this too shall pass’ and I will someday be on the other side of the pain like You are. “Me too” is real and raw and inclusive. When you hear those words you know you’re not alone.

‘I discovered my husband had an affair’ – “Me too”. ‘My kid is going off the rails’- “Me too”. ‘My business is going under’- “Me too”. ‘ I was molested’- “Me too”. ‘I’m so lonely sometimes it’s physically painful’- “Me too”. ‘My second marriage failed and I feel like a Jerry Springer episode.’- “Me too” . ‘I had an abortion and I’m scared God hates me’- “Me too”. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get ‘it’ right’- “Me too”.  ‘I got fired’- “Me too”. Oh yeah,,, I’ve been through them all and so have you. I know you have because I’ve been a hairdresser for 28 years and you’ve told me. Whole lotta TMI in 28 years. 😉     (Had to inject a little humor. It was gettin’ a bit heavy)

The brilliant thing about those two little words isn’t just in what they build but also in what they destroy. They destroy isolation.  They interrupt the condemning self talk of, ‘ no one could be as messed up as I am’. They shatter the darkness by shining a ray of hope. And they break open your heart to let a little light in. As I struggled to birth a meaningful name for this blog, God reminded me of a moment when He let some light in to my shattered heart. At the age of 15, my parents discovered that I’d been molested for three years by some family members. Because of their desire to see these men brought to justice I found myself sitting in the Florida State’s Attorney’s office telling every sordid detail. Fun times. There is no classy sophisticated way to recount being molested. It leaves you feeling worthless , degraded, and dark. But God knew I needed a “Me too” moment to show I wasn’t alone. The attorney who had taken my case got very quiet as I wound down and he looked at me. Really looked at me. Then he put his hand on a massive stack of paperwork that had been sitting beside him and said, ” I see girls all day who have been put through the same things you have. (I’m not alone!) Not all of them come out of this intact. But you; you’re different. You still have light in your eyes. You’re gonna be ok.”  And I am. (It took many years, therapy, and bad decisions. Lots of bad decisions)

So that’s why I will be writing this blog. To let you know that there is a ‘Me Too’ out there for you. Someone who’s been through the enormous and the ridiculous things of life. I believe in you because I believe in the One who created you. When you look at me and say, ‘yeah she Does still have light in her eyes.’ I want you to look at yourself and say,”Me too.”