Posted in Depression, happiness, longreads, moms, motherhood, selfcare, Uncategorized

F those people – they aren’t yours – SheProclaims.com

F those people in life, who will not understand you. They will think you are too much or not enough. No matter what you say or do or how you try to explain it to them – it just won’t make sense. That’s all ok. Those people are not your people. Fuck those people (yes, Christian mom and sometimes I cuss – that’s how I roll). Find different people.

Those people and their opinions are not paying your bills. They are not in charge of you or your life decisions. It is not your job to make them comfortable or contort yourself to fit the mold they want you in. Your responsibilities in life are to be kind, do good things, love others, and be happy. That’s it. You live your life for you and no one else. You don’t need to hate them or be mean to them or rude to them – just take a deep breath and move on.

I learned this the hard way.

Many years ago, I was in a relationship which was definitely not the right fit for me. I am not sure why this person seemed so important to me at the time, but my craving for acceptance was so strong I was willing to do most anything. I changed my personality, interests, and worked myself to the bone to keep him happy. Comparing pictures from the start or our relationship to the end, you can watch the light in my eyes slowly fade. 

When he dumped me? I was a mess. I didn’t know who I was or what I liked anymore. I had pushed away a lot of friends and felt like I didn’t even know myself anymore. I felt discarded, worthless, crazy, and unworthy of anyone’s attention (especially his). I mistakenly let someone else drive my bus. When he pulled over, hopped off, and walked away I had no idea where I was, where to go, or how to even drive the dang bus. 

I wasted years of my life trying to be someone else for someone else. I wished I could be different, better, more worthy for him. I was so busy chasing his dreams that I lost mine. I missed out on part of my life because I was so focused on trying to make his better. I didn’t value myself one bit, and in the end neither did he. 

There is no “happy medium”

I was too quiet when we were out with his friends (never mine), then I was too loud. I never did find the right balance so I stopped being included. 

I was too lazy when I wanted a night at home with movies, then I was too wild if I wanted to go out for drinks. I gave up suggesting and just where he wanted. 

I dressed like a slut, then like a frumpy nun. I let him pick my clothes to save the fight. 

I spent too much money, then didn’t buy him nice enough things. I couldn’t even have a debit card to my own account.  I let him decide what I spent. 

Repairing your soul takes time

I am still healing from the damage that I allowed him to do, 20 years later. The damage I invited in, encouraged, and tolerated. Looking back on it now, all I can say is it was bullshit. In every sense of the word. There were people around me who love me deeply warning me of the damage it was doing to me; but I didn’t listen. I decided they couldn’t stand to see me happy and pushed them away. They became the villains in my story. I wish I had listened to them instead.. 

What I have learned since then is that I do not live my life for anyone but me. I will be too much or too little for some people and that’s ok. There is nothing wrong with me or them, we just aren’t meant to be kindred spirits. I will be too loud, too liberal, too conservative, too outspoken, and too vulnerable for some people. That’s ok. My job is not to make you comfortable, it is to live my best life and do as much good as I can. 

I suffered in silence for years, dying a little each day, trying to keep my depression and anxiety away from the world. I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, after all. Until the day I woke up and realized I was slowly killing myself this way. I was robbing my husband of his wife, giving my children only part of their mother, and hiding away my authentic self. The people that matter most were getting the least, because I didn’t want strangers to feel bad

F Those people.

Living your life for someone else is a waste of time. Nothing good comes from it, so I do not recommend it. I was a shattered, hollowed out soul when I found myself completely alone and regretting how I had allowed my life to go. Into a direction I didn’t want and didn’t enjoy. I missed out on fun times with family and friends because I was so devoted loving to someone who didn’t love me. Someone who didn’t let me love me either. 

Somewhere out there, I know someone is that place I crawled from. Ignoring the little voice in their head and the tug in their heart telling them they deserve more. They are feeling lost, unfulfilled, and adrift in a story they do not fully love. Maybe you’re the someone and you need to hear this. Maybe you know someone who needs to hear it from a completely unbiased source. This next part is important: take it in, share it, and live it. F those people who are holding you back.

Live your life

Do not live your life for someone else. F those people who try to limit your greatness or dim the light in your eyes. They are not your people, move along. Be kind, be loving, but don’t let others drive your bus. You do you. Be your authentic and original self. Shout your truth from the tops of mountains. You deserve happiness. The people who don’t “get” you are not worth worrying about and certainly not worth changing for. 

Wake up each and every day with a commitment to yourself to give your all to your own life each and every day. Bring the best and fullest version of you to the people you love. To the people who feed your soul. Those, dear friend, are your people. The people who see your messy, loud, quiet, lazy, crazy, true, real self are the ones that matter most. F those people who can’t handle your full life self.

Posted in Anxiety, Christian, Depression, guest writer, happiness, longreads, Meditation, moms, motherhood, sad, selfcare, suicide, Uncategorized

Sorry My Depression Makes You Uncomfortable – SheProclaims.com

“It’s just difficult for us when we don’t what your mood will be today. Your depression makes us uncomfortable.”

I am sorry my depression makes you uncomfortable. Want to know why people suffer in silence? Don’t get help? Get lost in the darkness, leaving everyone shaking their heads saying “I had no idea…”? It’s because too often, others make your depression about them. They shame people into feeling small, bothersome, and crazy for struggling when they don’t feel we should.

I have gone over this before, remember this post? But that’s fine. I’m will not going away. I’ll address it until I die.

I’m done with the mask. I will not going to tell you I’m fine, when I’m not. I also won’t breakdown sobbing and unleashing all my problems on you. Instead, I’m going to be quieter than usual when you see me while I work things out. It’s going to get uncomfortable, but I’m ok with that. Uncomfortable is where change begins.

I’m so sorry if my depression is inconvenient for you. Clearly, I am doing this to make you uncomfortable and cause as much disruption to your life as possible. It’s a well known fact that people choose depression and other mental illnesses out of spite most of the time. And for the fame and admiration which comes with being labeled. Right?

I realize that even though it takes a 30 minute pep talk and prayer meeting to will myself out of bed, I am making life your life hard by not being perkier in the mornings.

Even though I am often exhausted from insomnia and constantly talking my anxiety down to a manageable level, you’re right. It’s my responsibility to make sure everyone else is completely at ease around me at all times. Instead of a simple polite smile when you say good morning, I will try to light up like the Griswold family’s Christmas lights and enthusiastically greet you. That won’t feel fake or awkward for anyone.

Its great when you ask what will make me happy. Obviously, I withhold that one thing from myself just to ruin your day. I am thinking of a number between 1 and 100 billion, as soon as we reach that number with the question, I will spill it and we’ll all have a good laugh at this game.

You get bonus points by demanding I tell you what is making me sad. That is definitely going to help – especially if you can raise your voice during the conversation. Maybe…just maybe, you’ll be the one to “set me straight”. Worst case, we’ll be closer to the secret number.

Please keep inviting me to things only to get offended if I politely decline. If I do go, get ready to be irritated when I don’t have as much fun as you think I do. Probably a good time to interrogate me more too. Maybe in front of a group? That might help.

Thank you for telling me about 10 people you know who are in worse positions than me. Nothing pulls one out of depression faster than knowing things can get worse. Make sure to use lots of shame and guilt to hammer that point home. People with depression and mental illness are known for having large amounts of self esteem. Good idea pointing those faults out to bring us all back down to Earth.

Clearly, I choose to struggle with food, sleep, chores, work, socializing, and productivity. All because I want to annoy and inconvenience those around me. I’m a very selfish person as I wake up every day and decide “I’m going to be sad today. Again.”

Actually, I’m sorry I’m not sorry at all.

I’m sorry if me speaking up, speaking out, and asking for help is uncomfortable for you. I’m sorry if its frustrating you or inconvenient for you. I know I’m supposed to suffer in silence out of respect for your comfort level and desired ignorance.

Wait, no I’m not. Not sorry at all. My job isn’t to make you feel good about the world. Your happiness and level of comfort are not my responsibility. Stop trying to make it so. I will not apologize if my depression makes you feel uncomfortable.

Requests that I just be happy, just be fun, smile more, and make others comfortable is ridiculous. I’m going to admit when I’m struggling and need help until everyone can start thinking about how we can help people, instead of how we can try to convince people they should be fine – then hope they hide their pain.

Posted in Anxiety, coffee, Depression, diet, exercise, happiness, healthy, longreads, Mantras, Meditation, moms, motherhood, selfcare

Stop telling me to take a bath and be happy.

I’m calling out every blog, magazine, and person who keeps telling me that The Secret to happiness is a long list of pampering disguised as self-care. I’m literally starting to get stressed out trying to fit in and afford all of these things people keep claiming I need to do.

If your calendar looks anything like mine it is difficult to even find time to paint your own toenails some days. I definitely can’t run all over making sure I spoiled myself constantly. I don’t think most people can.

I looked up the definition of self-care and found this:

Self care is the practice of taking action to preserve or improve one’s own health. The practice of taking an active role in protecting one’s own well being and happiness, in particular during periods of stress.

It says nothing about manicures, pedicures, expensive purses, spy days, or long candlelit baths will just the right blend of lavender/eucalyptus/hemp calming a oils and mood music to boost brain waves.

The way I see it? Self care is basically hygiene for your brain and happiness. Everyday we brush our teeth, wash, and generally try to make good choices. We want to take care of our bodies. Why don’t we do daily hygiene for our happiness? Wouldn’t that be better self-care then getting some sort of gold foil body wrap once a year, under a waning moon, on a pygmy goat farm in the Himalayas? Just seems like we’re being told to do extraordinary things for happiness, when happiness shouldn’t be a rare, fleeting feeling.

I’m no expert, just a really busy and tired mom who feels sad and lost sometimes but is trying to do her best. So here are my topu for ways to actually practice self care like a normal person:

Take 10 minutes. I don’t have the time or budget for pygmy farm or dsily spa treatments. However, I do have at least 10 minutes each day I can set aside for me. Personally, I get up early for my time but you can just as easily stay up late, hide away for 10 minutes of your lunch hour, DVR your show at night (you can also skip the commercials later than so that’s really a win-win), take a long shower, go for a walk, or just straight up look at everyone around you and tell them that you are about to lose your crap and you need 10 minutes of being left alone before you end up in a straight jacket. It seems extreme but trust me, that one definitely works.

Don’t set a budget. I don’t say this because I feel no amount of money is too much for your happiness. I say this because who actually can afford to go out and spoil themselves all the time? If you can, congratulations and you keep doing you. If not, realize that you don’t need to spend money to be happy. Read a book, drink coffee or tea quietly, talk to a friend, meditate, practice yoga, lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling, think about all you have to be grateful for, plan a random act of kindness you can do, or just set an alarm and take a 10 or 20 minute nap in the middle of the day. I don’t think most people understand how much better their lives are on the days that I get a nap. That’s everyone-care.

Quit putting crap in. I can literally think of some people who manage to bring me down when I am around them for real long. I can’t avoid them all but I can do everything in my power to not let their negativity bring down my happiness. Limit how much time you spend talking with those people, stop gossiping ( I’m working on that, this is a judgment free space so just move along here), think about all the good things in life instead of the bad, think about what could go right instead of what could go wrong. Take in positive messages, quotes, movies, books, shows, articles, or anything else. Remember that whatever you put in is what you were going to get out. We know what happens if we fill our bodies full of Cheetos, icecream, and prime rib four times per day. The same thing happens if you constantly allow negative people, pettiness, and a negative outlook into your mind.

Don’t Be Crazy. I would love to tell you that I eat nothing but healthy foods, practice yoga daily, and read a minimum of 17 inspirational quotes before I get out of bed each day. But none of that is realistic. Don’t set crazy goals and make this another huge thing you need to do each day – that kind of defeats the purpose. Some days my self care is laying in bed, lost in thought, and hitting snooze for half an hour before I get up. Some days it’s yoga. Some days it’s beer in the evening on the porch. Some days it’s Drinking a cup of coffee before it gets cold and I have to microwave it again. Some days its going to bed at early. Basically, just take 10 minutes every day to chill the F out and just be you for a little bit.

Self care does not need to be expensive or monumental. Are spa days, pedicures, and long baths wonderful? Of course! I recommend them whenever you have the time or the budget (feel free to send gift cards!) Are they something practical that we can do every day? I sure can’t. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t find other ways to still take care of myself I bring my best self to the table.

Stop telling me otherwise.

Posted in Anxiety, books, Christian, coffee, Depression, God, kids, longreads, moms, motherhood, nature, parenting, selfcare

When you look at me, I know what you see.

When you look at me, I know what you see. Your face and words say it all clearly: “you’re so fun! So crazy. So funny/strong/smart/organized/put together!”

Go ahead. Scroll my Facebook page. I’ve got all the “required” pics. Smiley, happy, spouse selfie? Check. Happy, well behaved kids displaying equal parts good behavior and precocious curiosity? Check. Yummy meals? Successful workouts? Got ’em.
Home based business? Got it. Great job? Sharing those company posts often! Pets? Theo the cat almost needs her own page. Don’t forget the amazing cakes, birthday parties, vacations, pretty house, DIY projects, make up looks, and amazing weight loss goals – I’ve got all that too!
What don’t you see? I am currently on the highest dose of Prozac a woman can take. This hair? Shoutout to dry shampoo and Bobby pins for the win! Cereal for dinner is a weekly occurrence here. I loathe the days my daughter DOESN’T want hot lunch. I got two separate emails at work today pointing out the areas I’m failing at. If I had one wish in life, it would be to stay in bed. For at least a month.
I regularly Google and price vacations I could take by myself. Just for a break from my life (which I am actually very happy for – even though I struggle to really share that everyday). Then, I check my bank account and remmember I am not a Kardashian and have a budget that doesn’t allow for such things.
I am a mom living with chronic, clinical, depression. I am a full-time employee, friend, daughter, sister, church-going, school volunteering woman who struggles to get out of bed some days. And honestly? I’m sick of it.
Why is this something we hide? Why are we ashamed of this? Why aren’t there more resources? Why do we spend so much time feeling alone and hiding our truth – when its so much more common than we could ever guess?
According to a 2016 study published by the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 16 million American adults (roughly 7% of our population for you number junkies) had a depressive episode within the past year.
That’s roughly 7 of every 100 people you know, struggling THIS YEAR ALONE. Look around your office, PTO meeting, church service, your gym, or merely on your Facebook feed.
Can you spot them?
Can you see their calls for help?
Or do they master blending into society while craving help so loudly on the inside that their needs and thoughts are all they hear?
I’ll give you a moment to take inventory. Though, if we know each other in real life or through social media, I bet you pegged me wrong. To quote a favorite show from my youth: “You think you know, but you have no idea.”
My alarm sounds at 5am. Why? Because I know that I feel better if I get up with time to myself, a cup of coffee, time with God, and time for my yoga practice. However, most days I just hit snooze for about an hour and a half.
I would love to tell you that every day starts with a nice warm shower for me, but most days it’s layers of make up and dry shampoo that get me looking presentable for the day.
I wake up my kids and devote every bit of energy that I have for the next hour and a half to making sure they are ready, have everything they need, and know just how much I love them before I drive them to school each morning.
I go to work each morning to a job that I have wanted for nearly a decade and finally managed to get. Then, I think about how badly I wish I were a stay-at-home mom. I propose selling everything and living in a cabin in the woods to my husband at least once a week. No joke.
Outlook reminders, to-do lists, and calendars are my secret weapons to presenting a very put together and organized front that manages to get 90% of my job done well each week. The other 10%? Well, it’s a mix of praying that I get good luck, my coworkers cover, or that the boss understands that I am seriously doing the best I can.
My lunch hours? They rotate between therapy sessions, volunteering at my kids’ schools, and running errands to keep our family aloat. There is no time and there are no resources for a mom to take a mental vacation. That is when things start getting real.
Why is there a stigma? Why are we expected to work like we do not have children and have children like we do not work? It is literally more than anyone should take on and a serious struggle for me, personally, on a regular basis. Why do we act like this is not a problem, not a national crisis, and not something we should be addressing as a society?
I know I have a good life. I know I am fortunate. I have amazing kids, a strong husband, a deep support system, and wonderful friends, but some days are still more than my heart can handle for no obvious reason.
I am tired of living in secrecy and shame. Those things which we cannot, will not, and do not name will continue to be our scariest demons until we stand up to them and say: no more.
I am done hiding from my truth. I am done with the “mom game”. I am done posting things portraying me as having everything figured out, when in reality I am one unscheduled softball practice away from everything falling apart.
We are absolutely all doing our best. I don’t care what your pinterest board says, you are just as messy as me. I am through hiding this any longer. I am coming clean to my kids, friends, and life that mom cannot do everything. And that’s OK. Life is a team sport. And we, as a family especially, are all in this together to make everything work.
I refuse to pass in legacy of burnout, over whelmed feelings, and inadequacies to my daughter. I also refuse to raise a son who thinks that women are invincible. That we can do all of the professional work, all of the children work, and all of the household work on our own.
There is no shame in needing a break. There is no shame in needing help. There is no shame in not being able or wanting to do it all.
My kids come first. Always. Whether or not the baseboards have been cleaned? Not even on my radar. Did I forget to work out this week? Well, my pants still fit so I don’t care. If our profit margins go down a percent or two over a month’s time? Nothing I’m going to lose sleep over. And yes, the Domino’s pizza app has saved our favorite order. That’s how I know everyone gets their favorite from time to time.
The ages of 25 to 44? Those are the most likely ages for any woman to experience depression. Smack dab in the middle of raisinsg kids. If that is you, like it is me, please know that you are not alone in this battle. We are in the trenches, mamas. Torn between raising babies, building amazing marriages, and forging successful long-lasting careers. No wonder we feel that we are falling short and find ourselves battling depressing thoughts.
But until we start being honest with each other and sharing our truths, this cycle will continue. Our daughters will be in the same spot that we are, which is exactly where our mothers were. But we have the opportunity today to be brave and stand up for what we need.
Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is the ultimate sign of strength. As Elizabeth Dehn said best ” You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”
So don’t. Don’t rob yourself or your family of the strongest version of you. Don’t hide the truest version of yourself to make sure everyone’s needs are met. You are more than accessory to everyone else’s life. You are a powerful being that deserves to be seen in all your mess and beauty.
Instead, remember that it takes an entire village to raise babies, grow families, and achieve a full life. Asking for help is nothing weak; if anything it is the ultimate sign of strength because you have looked deep within your self and seen what you can or cannot do on your own. That is where the real power of life lies.
I am a mom, wife, sister, friend, volunteer, and employee. I live with depression but it does not define me. I am calling it out, removing its power, and fighting to make sure future generations know that everyone has a struggle and that doesn’t make you weaker.
Please, love each other fiercely and completely. You never know what someone else is battling and how your kindness can help their fight.
If you need help, PLEASE contact one of these amazing groups:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-TALK (8255)
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

International Foundation for Research and Education on Depression
http://www.ifred.org/

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance (DBSA)
1-800-826-3632
http://www.dbsalliance.org/

National Institute of Mental Health
866-615-6464
www.nimh.nih.gov

American Psychiatric Association
703-907-7300
www.psychiatry.org/

Anxiety and Depression Association of America
240-485-1001
www.adaa.org

Posted in Anxiety, books, Depression, kids, longreads, motherhood, selfcare

The top six books to read when you’re depressed

When life is hard, I like to disappear into a book. Sometimes fiction, sometimes non-fiction, sometimes self-help, religious, or motivational. The point is, I need an escape and books provide that to me. I meant to only write about 5, but I couldn’t narrow it down that much. So here’s my top 6 books for when you’re feeling down or overwhelmed.
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery. I know, not exactly the most thought provoking writing of all time – but that’s exactly why its easily one of my top books to just disappear into when I’m really feeling low and can’t tolerate anything heavy.
Did you wake up today an orphan? Only to hear how sad everyone was you weren’t a boy when you arrived because that’s what they ordered? That your hair is ugly? Your manners are terrible? Then you’re doing better than her and she makes it out alright. Even ends up marrying a doctor.
Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. I only bought this book because I think Beyonce the metal chicken is hilarious and I re-read it every few months on her blog (Google it, you’re welcome) then I saw she wrote a book. And the raccoon on the cover looked exactly what I’d look like if I were a raccoon. Then I started reading, checked with my parents to make sure I have no other siblings I was not aware of out there, and realized I am not alone. I may be depressed and totally nuts sometimes, but I’m still not completely crazy because I’m not the only one and there are books and support groups dedicated to people like me. You are NEVER completely crazy if there’s books and support groups. You’re good enough.
That is NOT a Good Idea by Mo Willems. Kids books are great when you’re down. They’re short, they’re pretty direct, and you can read it to your kid while also letting the words help you. Bonus points if, like me, your kid is big enough to read it to you! This one is a good reminder that no matter how evil a plan is someone is plotting against you, you can always get through it and out smart it. And have a full belly. I like eating.
The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris. Any book about the holocaust kind of puts things into perspective for me, personally. I have problems, but no where NEAR these problems. This book had me re-evaluating my situations with every page. Then *spoiler alert* you find out its a true freaking story? Nope. I’m good. Maybe not perfect or where I want to be, but good. I’ll get through this.
You are a Badass by Jen Sincero. I think its just healthy for you to have something around you that is screaming how great you are, so this is pretty much the best book title ever. I also love this book because its the complete pep talk you would want someone to give you, if they knew you, to help you start to see yourself in a better life. If you’re an introvert like me, you know we don’t have those people in our lives but we can still use the boost. Even if you don’t read it, just get it and stand it up on your counter and look at it daily as a reminder.
Its Not Supposed to be This Way by Lysa TerKeurst. Sometimes I swear and I don’t always do things the most proper way, but this book (and really all her books) are staples in my house. Filled with bookmarks, sticky notes, my handwriting, and highlighted parts (I need to own books because I just have to write all over them and make the good parts look pretty for next time). My guess is, if you’re struggling like me, this is NOT what you had planned for life. But here you are. Now what? Another good girlfriend book.
I am an AVID reader, my interests span the library – no topic is really too weird, too boring, too old, too new, or too anything for me. If you need more recommendations, comment below! And if you’ve got a good book to share (whether is makes you feel good or just makes you feel good enough for now) PLEASE share! I’m always adding to my reading list!
Posted in birthday, longreads, motherhood, nature, wtf

Birthdays are weird.

This week was my birthday. For those who dont know, I don’t get older. I just go up a level each year, because being level 39 sounds way cooler than being 39 years old. So, the other day I went up another level and I’m stronger, wiser, and tougher that before. Badass.
What is it about my birthday though that makes my children lose their minds and insane things happen? Its like the universe finds it comical every time I manage to make one more trip around the sun. Every. Freaking. Year.
This year, we needed to celebrate early since my actual birthday day was crammed full of taking kids to school and events. So a few days before the big day my kids whined that they didn’t want to go to the store to buy a gift and card (they may be totally addicted to Amazon which may be my fault but we talk about that another time). I tried to help Matt out by reminding the kids about all the hard work I do for their birthdays each year in the form of parties and cakes, not to mention the fact that I sacrificed my bikini modeling career to give birth to both of them, and the fact that if they celebrate my birthday they get ice cream too. I’m not sure which guilt trip or bribe did it, but they finally got it done before we went out for my birthday dinner.
Let’s talk about birthday dinner as a mom for a minute: if I have learned one thing in all the previous levels, its that I want to go some place where I know my children will definitely find something to eat that they love. Or like. Or at least will nibble on before we bring it home to enjoy as lunch the next day. So I chose my favorite restaurant to go to with my kids so they will not drive me crazy during the meal. Level 39 me was crushing it.
We made it through the meal with only one little ruffle about straws (what kind of waitress brings one kid a bendy straw and one kid a normal one?!). Also, don’t start on me about straws and the turtles. I live with an 8 year old girl, I know all about it, I just wanted a nice level 39 meal so straws were a must. The rest was great. All in all, a win.
My actual birthday consisted of running all over, going to softball game, then going out for ice cream before coming home. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and binge Madmen. (Yes, I am aware that the show has been off the air for ages and I am insanely behind on the times, however I have no patience and zero chill so I prefer to wait for shows to run their entire course and ignore them until they are placed on a streaming service where I do not have to wait for annoying things like cliffhangers.)
Just as I was about to finish my second episode and roll over to go to sleep I heard our teenager yell from downstairs. I am totally a dedicated mom, but in that moment I was also an exhausted mom so instead of getting up and walking downstairs – I texted him:
Me: “Don’t yell, your sister is asleep. What’s up?”
Teen: “There is a bird in the fireplace.”
Me, now yelling and running full speed from the bedroom: “NOBODY MOVE!!!”
This is where Matt clearly gets me and why our marriage works. He didn’t ask for an explanation or really flinch at my outburst and sudden flight. He calmly paused the show (I seriously love him) and followed me downstairs where we were in fact greeted by a bird flapping around inside of our fireplace among the ashes.

Me: “Oh my gosh. What do we do? Someone has to grab it. But not me. Do we even OWN thick leather gloves for this stuff?!”
Matt: “Will open a window and to get a way to get it out.”
Me: “Let’s catch him in a pillow case!”
Matt: “You think you’re that accurate?”
Me: “In a sheet!”
Matt: “You will throw ash all over the house.”
Teen: “Is it hurt? Can we keep it?!”
Me: “NO. Get the sheet.”

My plan was nothing short of a play right out of Wile E. Coyote’s playbook. We would hold the sheet up over the open fire place, the bird would fly into it, and we would quickly wrap it around him then throw it out the window. This is completely doable for two regular grown ups (one of which may have been afraid of rabies at that moment). Right? It sounded good in my head.
As it turns out, this bird was a super genius. Now, I realize that at first glance the fact that the bird fell down the chimney and was trapped with people staring at him would lead you to believe otherwise, but as soon as we held up a sheet in front of the fireplace and opened the sliding doors he froze. He may not have known what a chimney was but he definitely knew a hunter green sheet with paint stains was not the sky and he should not go that way.
We finally agreed to try Matt’s plan (and by we, I mean me). We closed the room door, opened the windows, removed the screens, slid the the fireplace screen open, then moved the sheet so he could see the window.
That’s all it took for our visitor, he was probaly traumatized by the giants waving paint sheets at him, so he soared out of the fireplace, through the room, and followed the fading sunlight to his freedom!
We then seized this teachable moment to show our son how fireplaces work and why you need to close the flue when done. You’re welcome, future daughter-in-law, for teaching your future husband how to care for your home.
You owe me a birthday cake.
Posted in kids, longreads, moms, motherhood, parenting, selfcare

I’m over “Mom guilt”

I’m over “mom guilt”. I don’t know why its a thing or when it became a thing, but we need to stop it. Our mothers and our grandmothers didn’t heap this crap on themselves – so why are we?
Somehow, it almost seems to be a weird badge of honor among moms. Like, mom A loves her kid so much that she hand makes birthday treats for class straight off her Pinterest board because she could never live with the “mom guilt” that a bulk box of prepackaged rice krispie treats would bring upon her. Failure to bring the Pinterest treat is clearly failure as a mom, in loving your kid, and makes you less of a mom.
Huh? I don’t follow this at all. And I’m not playing. And I’m calling b.s. on all the moms that do. We have a hard enough gig just keeping these little humans alive some days. Why would we PURPOSELY add more struggles and guilt to ourselves?! For absolutely no reason!?
I will not feel guilty that I am not helping at field day. I would rather get a root canal than try to herd 23 kindergarteners through a three-legged race. If that’s your thing, more power to you. Thank you! If you didn’t enjoy this, it wouldn’t be happening. And if you don’t enjoy it, you shouldn’t be doing it. But I will not feel guilty for not doing it.
I will not feel guilty that I didn’t go to the zoo with my kid’s class. I’ve been to the zoo. Like, 100 times. And at least 80 of those times, I had that kid in tow. We’ve got pictures, souvenir mugs, and a three foot long pink cobra stuffed animal to prove it. WHY would I feel guilty for not hopping on a bus and riding an hour to look at this stuff with her for the 81st time? I’m not. Go have fun. With your friends. With your teachers. With kind adults you have never gone to the zoo before who are super pumped to go. And I will listen eagerly when she gets home and love all the stories!
I won’t feel guilty because I work. We wouldn’t be going to the zoo without money. Which my job gets for us.
I won’t feel guilty because I don’t work some days. Cleaning, laundry, and driving people are important too.
I won’t feel guilty when I hide in the bedroom for a bit on a Saturday or take an extra long shower. Mom needs a break sometimes and everyone will be FINE for half an hour.
I won’t feel guilty for buying prepacked food, some days that’s all that gets us by.
I won’t feel guilty for the $11 late fees at the library. I remembered everyone’s doctor appointments, school needs, extra curriculars, and kept everyone alive. Library books are a minor casualty. Not feeling bad at all.
I won’t feel guilty for waking up each day, loving my kids, doing my best, and keeping myself happy, healthy, and well. Maybe I do more than others in some areas, but I promise you I am not keeping up in others. And that is ok. Completely. Nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about.
The kids are fed. They are kind. They are loved. They are happy.
Mission accomplished. Well done making it to the end of the year with me ladies. That is something to be proud of!
Posted in Christian, God, longreads, prayer

Are you there, God? Because I’m mad…

I have to admit, God and I spent a good part of this last year fighting. Well, I was fighting and He was sitting back patiently waiting for me to calm the heck down and let Him carry on with His plan. Thankfully, He let me go on and humored me while I freaked out, yelled, questioned, demanded, and finally trusted His plan.

Some people will say that I had no right to question or yell at God, but I don’t think that’s true. I think He’s ok with it. I think He would rather have an angry and honest me than a me who doesn’t totally believe. Even if it means I need to question things from time to time. At least I’m giving Him my all.

This year I was tested pretty seriously in both my personal and professional life. People I had trusted fully let me down. Plans I had been working on for years crumbled. Every scrap of self-consciousness was placed center stage for me to stare at. I was low. And it didn’t make any sense why He let it happen.

I pray. I go to church. I volunteer. I’m a Sunday school teacher, Deacon, greeter, communion server, coffee maker, meal maker, and all around super friendly, involved church person. I read my Bible close to daily, share God’s love with our kids, and do my best to be generous in our community.

So, when God let all these awful things fall down on top of me? My God, who I bust my chops for 24/7 let this go down? Well, I was livid.

One particularly hard day, last fall, I found myself sitting alone in my minivan at sunrise, at the beach, sobbing hysterically in my quiet space.

Things weren’t getting better. I was getting madder. Things felt like they were getting worse. Once again, I was doing things “right”, trying to fix my life, and God was letting it all happen. I was infuriated.

As Anne Lamott said, “God can handle honesty, and prayer begins in honest conversation.” I was ready to be completely raw with my honest feelings in my prayer that morning. Excuse the language (He and I have discussed that also), but the prayer went something like this – at the top of my lungs, through tears, beating on my steering wheel:

Alright God, what do you want from me? What more do you want me to do? I come to you, do your work, and do all the “right” things and you still let life shit all over me? I can’t keep doing this. You dump on me and leave me to sort it out without any help! You don’t even bother to tell me if I’m on the right path or not. I don’t even know if you’re here! Or if you care! If any of this matters! But if you’re there – we need to work something out. You need to give me a damn clue or a sign that I going in the right direction. My way isn’t working but I appear to be the only one showing up with a plan! You want to call the shots? Fine. We’ll do it your way. But you better check in. I want signs. Owls. I want owls and birds along the way. Big, cool, special birds – everyday ones like sparrows won’t cut it. Amen.

It was far from the most eloquent prayer I’ve ever said, but I promise you it’s one of the top most sincere and from the heart prayers I’ve ever said. Swear words and irrational bird demands included. He knew I was finally being real and seeking HIS way, not the way I thought people should see me doing His way.

That’s the wonderful thing about God. He doesn’t want us coming to Him with our fake selves. He knows who we are and what we need even better than we do. He wants our honest, authentic, raw, fully open hearts coming to Him.

I’m sure He looked at me raging in my minivan with a smile while I was making demands and shouting a to-do list prayer as if He needed my help to get my life “right”. And I’m so grateful he was patient enough to wait for the real me to show up and ask Him to take over.

God knows our weaknesses and loves us despite them. He created them in us, they are perfect. He wants us to come to him, with fire in our bellies, spirits of fire, and throw it at his feet. That’s when we get the good stuff. The love, forgiveness, and the help we need to get through our hardest times.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16

I left the beach without a booming voice telling me what to do next or a flock of owls tap dancing the way I needed to go next. I wish the exchange had a huge earth shattering moment right then, but it didn’t.

I drove home with puffy eyes. I did my daily yoga practice. I read. Cleaned the house, watched some Netflix, then slid into loving mom and wife mode when my family arrived home. I stopped telling God what I needed or how He should do it. I merely stayed present and looked for Him through the evening.

I climbed into bed that night feeling foolish for my outburst that morning and more lost than ever. I was more exhausted than ever too. The weight of using to do it all on my own was too much and I was ready to calmly admit it. I didn’t want to thru to be the boss anymore. I kat can’t too do things His way. My way keeps ending up in a painful place, it’s clearly the wrong direction for me.

I drifted to sleep that night asking Him to run the show and call the shots. I apologized for the language, but I admitted that I really could use some little reassurance some time. Just the occasional check-in that I’m doing ok.

When I woke from a dream around midnight a few nights later, one I do not recall but left me feeling in absolute peace, I smiled to myself with a feeling of relief that He was hearing me. Then, I heard him. A loud owl hooting in the night. The first I’ve ever heard in the 5 years we’ve lived in this house.

God is with you. Give him your honest self. He can take it and He’ll still love you for it.