“What if I stumble; what if I fall?
What if I lose my step & I make fools of us all?
Will the love continue if the walk becomes a crawl?
What if I stumble…and what if I fall?”
–DCTalk, “What if I Stumble,” 1997-ish
I grew up in a home that banned “secular” music. I still remember when my mom threw out my “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” cassette tape (I cried). I mean, c’mon—I cut my teeth on The Gatlin Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, Madonna (True Blue was THE BUSINESS, for real), Cyndi Lauper, you name it. But when my mom married my stepdad, it came with a recommitment to the Lord & our household got purged. My sister kept her “stash” hidden—Guns & Roses were intertwined with Stryper when she’d play drums, & she made sure I had exposure to Lynyrd Skynyrd, Def Leppard, Styx, and a plethora of rock artists. It was somewhere around this time that little country-girl Cassidy realized that I. LOVE. RAP. MUSIC. I found artists like DC Talk, ETW, Michael Peace, T-Bone, Gritz, Stephen Wiley—my mom had a FIT, but I found my people. I’d dance & try to rap (I still do, DJC2 in the hizz-owse, yeah, boyeeee!); I loved it. I tried to keep up with the lyrics & as a wannabe-writer, marveled at how these artists could turn a phrase.
DC Talk is unequivocally my favorite Christian band (& probably my favorite band of all time. I’m not embarrassed to say that). Kevin Maxwell Smith was my teenage crush (“Jen, pause the video right THERE—his eyes!!!! Sigh!!!!!”; Michael Tait was who I learned to sing gospel riffs from; and Toby McKeehan was the coolest guy I’d never met.
I’ve never had the opportunity to see DC Talk in concert…and it looks like I never will (although I’ve seen TobyMac)…when Michael Tait was announced to be the leader of another group I loved, the Newsboys, I was stoked. Kevin took on Audio Adrenaline, Toby was solo and being amazing—I grew up with these guys in my ears, and it was awesome to see them move forward with their faith in such focus.
When John James left the Newsboys, there were allegations of inappropriate behaviors. I still loved their music, & I still listen to Take Me to Your Leader, Shine, & all of their albums (“Breakfast” is a favorite song. It’s totally frickin’ creative!). I’ve seen them in concert a few times (I actually got to sing, “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes with Duncan Phillips back in the day while I was helping them set up their stage—the perks of going to a “mega” church!) & their high-energy shows were phenomenal. The members picked up the reins, the shows went on, & their ability to perform & reach out to millions continued…
But I think, as The Doors’ said, “this is the end, my only friend.”
Allegations regarding inappropriate sexual behaviors and drug use have come out from The Roys Report (which is generally pretty reputable) concerning Michael Tait. Although he’s most definitely not the first lead singer of a Christian band that’s had allegations made against them (and we as a society are taught that someone is “innocent until proven guilty”) at some point, those accusations have teeth. Michael published a confession of his truth (I’m sure it’s not complete but it’s more than I’ve seen 99% of others who have “fallen from grace”) & has admitted to inappropriate behaviors.
I feel like the confession is just the tip of the iceberg, not only for Tait’s behaviors, but for the Christian music industry as a whole.
I’ve now sat through 2 congregations in my 47 years that have fallen apart due to the sexual inappropriateness of their leaders, and 2 major global ministries that have fallen apart from it (& that’s just the ones that directly affected me). The foothold that the enemy has regarding sexual misconduct in ministries is massive, & the Church is about to, as the kids say, “F.A.F.O.” (I shouldn’t use that acronym but it’s happening. People are fooling around and getting found out. If you are doing this, you. Will. Be. Found. Out. Period. The days of getting away with sexual abuse and power plays in the Church are OVER).
I have so many issues and complications with the Michael Tait case…part of me feels like if he could just be authentic with who he is and what he is struggling with, and if the Church could provide him with a truly safe place to love Jesus from where he is or who he is, then the abuse of power would have never taken place. If he’s gay (he admits to “touching men in an unwanted sensual way”), if he’s straight, if he’s struggling with purity, LOVE HIM and give him a place to heal in authenticity. The Holy Spirit brings loving conviction, not condemnation, and that’s Who we go to in our broken struggles…but the Church has forgotten that they’re supposed to be the hospital for the broken. We only want to look at what’s shiny & pretty on Sunday mornings…we don’t want to see each other in our darkest places, in our struggles and wounds…
If the Church treated people like they were a place where we could all fall further in love with a God Who is continually making us in His image, we would have the corner on the identity crisis in the world.
Controversial Statement #1: SEXUALITY IS NOT IDENTITY.
This may seem like a pivot off-topic, but I think it’s a foundational argument that if the Church would have been a safe place for Michael Tait to express the sexual struggles he was having, I don’t think these abuses of power would have ever happened. The Church’s persecution of the LGBTQIA+ community is misguided at best, and criminal at worst. Bobby Berk from Queer Eye comes to mind as an example I’ve heard 100x over: The church kicked me out. WHAT?!?
We are created in the image of a God Whose Word says we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” My identity isn’t in who I am attracted to or in my gender. These things are a part of my physical identity, but they are not my identity in whole. My identity is in who Jesus is making me to be, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, & physically (Matthew 6). Hayley Williams from Paramore said in response to this story that “Being gay is not the problem.” I agree with her. Sexual “identity” issues are not the problem, but finding the root of what’s going on? That’s the problem. The abuse of power? That’s the problem. The secrets, the coercion? That’s the problem. Non-consensual activities? That’s the problem. The sexual issues & substance abuses are the consequences of a whole lot of hidden issues & secrets that Tait himself admits to…when you’re carrying the weight of all of that? Alone? Couple that with actual conviction (he knew he was on a downward spiral but at some point, he was trapped)…You’re going to crumble.
I realize this opens the door for a LOT of discussions, but I think the bottom line is that the Church Jesus talks about isn’t some gilded temple of perfection. We’re a house of broken people who want to love Jesus more & who find healing, grace, and restoration in Him and only through Him. If someone can’t be open about the sexual or identity issues they’re working through in the Church of all places, then what are we doing?!? WHAT ARE WE DOING?! Jesus says to “come to Me, all you who are weary & burdened, & I will give you rest”—Matthew 11:28-30. His House should be a place where we lay our burdens & our struggles at His feet…anything less is unacceptable. We should never feel “trapped” in our sins as we walk with God, because He promises us rest in Him and FREEDOM when we give those things over to Him. If we can’t bring our burdens to God’s people & find them to be an extension of His hands & feet? We’re not doing our jobs, Church.
CONTROVERSIAL STATEMENT #2: Sexual identity struggles are not any greater or lesser than any other “issue” anyone else is struggling with. Loving people to Jesus and providing them with a house of healing by meeting them where they are, puts us all on a level playing field and prevents an inequity of position that we were never supposed to have in the first place. This does NOT mean we condone practicing immorality as defined by Scripture (I say that because I 100% do not condone predatory, abusive or non-consensual behaviors—there is no place for such in the Church). I want to say the Church should be a safe place for someone to express that they are struggling with temptation, questions, or sexual identity issues. The struggle isn’t a sin. Acting on it and the intention behind those actions are where you have to make a judgment call with the Holy Spirit. This is a call for transparency in the Church, and a call for us to be a safe place to discuss our real journey. It means we have the courage to correct, counsel, and hold accountable those who are struggling (rather than ignoring it or blacklisting people). We offer resources & an oasis of Hope. If people continue to make choices that are antithetical to the Word as a Code of Conduct, then we move forward with scriptural discipline…but we don’t banish people. We don’t kick them out or stop loving them. In fact, scriptural discipline is a loving part of the process, even though it’s painful. I think Michael Tait is going through some of that right now based on what he wrote, if he was being authentic. We give grace to people as they work out their salvation. Plainly put, we welcome hurting & broken people into our home, our churches, and our lives, because our Jesus is the only Healer & Judge for all of us.
We have all sinned and fallen short—we all need a Savior. We can sit and argue about identity issues until the cows come home, but it doesn’t change the fact that We. Need. Jesus. Why couldn’t Michael Tait come to someone & share that he was struggling? Where were the leaders in his life, the accountability partners? This man and his victims have been failed by every single person who heard a whisper about his actions…by his record label, by his so-called friends, by his bandmates, and by his church. For Cory Asbury to comment that this abuse wasn’t a secret in the CCM (contemporary Christian music) scene is beyond appalling to me—if y’all knew and said nothing, YOU ARE COMPLICIT. You’re just as guilty as the person who committed the acts of abuse.
Controversial Statement #3: WHERE ARE THE ACCOUNTABILITY PARTNERS IN CHRISTIAN MUSIC?!? In fact, where are the accountability partners, period?!?!? We need community, leadership, and accountability. We have to get past this whole, “go to church on Sunday, that’s my duty, move on” line of crap so many of us have grown up with. If who you are isn’t who you are at church, then you’re at the wrong church, because that’s the ONE PLACE you should be able to be nothing less than 100% authentic.
I truly believe the issues Michael Tait has admitted to and been accused of, could have been avoided with proper accountability and godly counsel. They could have been avoided with embracing him in love and in giving him a place to be transparent. People were more interested in making money off of the man pretending to be a godly leader than in investing in him, providing him with accountability, and removing him from his position when the fires got too hot. WE FAILED MICHAEL TAIT and a thousand other ministries/ministers of the Gospel because we are cowards as a church. That doesn’t exonerate them. They’re still responsible for their actions before God…but if we’re One Body, aren’t we also responsible for looking away?
I’d like to say that I don’t see how this could have happened, but I’ve seen it over-&-over again. I’ve done it myself—singing on a stage about how great the love of God is, while struggling with suicidal tendencies, sexual immorality, & harboring intense feelings of anger and even hatred without honesty with leadership or counsel. Granted, I was on a much smaller stage, but the principle is the same: I faked it. I played the game. It doesn’t mean my heart wasn’t truly worshipping God or that I didn’t care about the people I was reaching out to; it means that my heart was broken. I didn’t have any resources in place for how to process my own trauma, & I acted out in secret. I don’t think I learned to live a life of actual authenticity until after I lost my daughter & found myself too broken to fake my way through it anymore (& in the arms of a Church that supported me in love).
I believe there is healing for people who struggle with secret sins, but I believe the first step in that process involves a commitment to authenticity & transparency. When you’re on that big of a platform? I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. Michael Tait has lost everything, & the investigation has just begun…others who have walked this path have done the same, & this world doesn’t allow for an easy “comeback.”
Then again, God never called us to “Easy.”
It’s uncomfortable to walk this road….to feel so exposed by being so open to a trusted network of people. It’s uncomfortable to share the broken, rotted pieces of your soul with an unseen God. It’s uncomfortable to believe we are fearfully & wonderfully made in a world that tells us we’re cosmic accidents, validated only by our feelings.
We’re so much more…
It’s impossible to fight the battle of identity or addictions (drugs, sex, whatever) alone. It takes a village, a congregation, a core group—it takes accountability, compassion, and most of all, the love of Jesus. When we get on our own like some kind of pillar, we crumble in the storms of life….and instead of rallying around someone to help them pick up the pieces, as a Church, we tend to light them up like funeral pyre & watch them burn.
We’re not doing it right…
Our “pillars” in the church are falling like dominoes. We’re not giving them the accountability, compassion, and love it takes to be deeply rooted in the truth of Christ, & they’re crumbling in shallow foundations. They’re pouring themselves out until the drought is all-consuming, but then we sit back and wonder, “what happened?”
WE happened.
The very same duties we have to report failures in the church are the same duties we have to help to bring restoration and healing. It doesn’t mean we put people back in the same positions, but it does mean we help them focus on reconciliation & healing in Christ. We gather around them in support & love, and we walk together in transparency & authenticity in who we are as a Body, who we’re called to be.
Authenticity, transparency, and restoration are messy. We’re a messy people that seem to always be trying to look like we’ve got it together, when in fact, we look like a drag queen in a thunderstorm.
We DON’T have it together.
But when we function in grace & humility, knowing who we truly are and loving like Jesus truly loves, He makes us into a beautiful place where His Spirit can truly revive what’s dead, find what’s been lost, and restore what’s been destroyed. That’s what He does—that’s the Great Exchange. And when we seek His Will, there is no fall from grace that He can’t rescue us through.
Michael Tait has publicly called himself a “horrible representative of Christ.” Authentic? Maybe? We may never know how many actual victims there are, & he may never see on this side of eternity what the consequences of his actions are. One thing I hope he does see and seek, is the truth of Who God made him to be…the forgiveness Jesus offers…and the comfort of a supportive, restoring village or congregation that works with him as he is on this journey of repentance and reflection. There’s a lot of healing for a lot of people that needs to take place, as this is a man with a lot of influence. When you’ve affected that many people and you wipe out so globally, there’s a tidal wave that rolls out.
I’m still going to listen to DCTalk. I’m still going to listen to the Newsboys. Hayley Williams called out the entire CCM industry & said that she hopes it “____ burns.” I don’t share that sentiment, but I get it. I hope the lack of accountability & transparency in CCM burns (& in the Church in general). I hope the desire to make a buck off of artists based on their talent over their ethics burns. I genuinely hope that every single person that knew Tait was abusing people & said NOTHING , faces dire consequences, because they’re complicit. I hope there’s a powder trail from this that leads to an explosion of truth in CCM, & that the abuse ends…
CCM is a huge part of the fabric of my faith. In my 40’s, there’s a great amount of unraveling from the people who spoke certain things over me in my youth, from the principles that those people shared. Broken people are still capable of being used by God, even when they’re in the midst of their shame, and I can’t throw it all out. A pastor that fell from grace still spoke verses of life over me, and those verses were beautiful…he might suck, but the Word holds. We can’t throw it all out, and that’s the beauty of grace. Grace teaches us to separate the fallible from the Perfect, and that’s what sticks, so yeah—I’m still going to sing the songs when my Amazon station plays them.
I truly hope Michael finds restoration…that the victims find healing & forgiveness…and that more than anything, the Church rallies around each of them to be a safe space of transparency, accountability, and growth in Christ….I hope the revelation of these behaviors leads to discussions about how the Church is empowering abusers by turning a blind eye to the tough discussions. I hope it causes us all to step back and reevaluate our “methods” of functioning as one Body (because as it stands, we’re kinda cancerous fam). I hope the Church takes a look at the topic of identity and decides that it’s better to come from a place of Love and Truth, then from judgment…
And I hope more than anything, that the love and grace of Jesus continues to meet each of us where we’re at….
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kXJdshVNq0&list=PLy2_hHSlXxiOvFAlVWXR_xgrVtl1Ktlar
hope
“Where’d You Go?!” AKA, “The Case of the Missing Body”
I’m going to start this blog out by making a statement I never thought I’d make & am terrified to state publicly: I have lost over 100 pounds.
“Where’d you GO?!?” is the question I am most commonly asked, and I generally respond, “I’m right here.” I’m still me. I’m still a giant jerk…still a giant nerd…still a flawed bonehead that loves Jesus & fails every day. I’m just….lighter.
I’m still a “big girl,” & I’m cool with that (even though I look like Shrek in family photos–why is everyone so SHORT?!?). I’ll never be petite–I’ve got hips that could birth a Hereford–& I’m 5’7.” I have feet like Sasquatch (my sister calls me “Casquatch” & I embrace it), so don’t get it twisted–I’m solidly built. I’m as my college “friend” called me, “healthy.”
Body confidence has NEVER been my forte. I dealt with so much body shaming growing up; when you grow up in the Church & you develop early, you’re punished for it. It’s crap. I was 14 and a DD, & my tiny, little Christian school couldn’t handle it. I got dress coded on a regular basis (like I asked for it?!?); my mom always reminded me to “suck it in,” as I had a belly even before I had my babies. I look back at pictures of myself, & I looked AMAZING at 17, but felt like a total freak show. I was taller, curvier, & louder than everyone I knew, and none of those things fit in well with a culture that wants you to be “meek.”
I felt hideous. I was “too much” for society, for church, & even for my family. I was different–I acted differently, and “different” was “bad,” so I tried to be what people wanted. I tried to dress in a way that covered everything up, but that’s hard to do when you’re top-heavy (& I only got more top-heavy as I went through college, leading to some horrific nicknames that I am still embarrassed by). If I could have taken a knife and cut off various parts of my body to relieve how ugly I felt, I would have. Every family picture showed how I didn’t fit in (several of those pictures are still on the walls in my parents’ house). Every group picture in the church youth group with the tiny, petite blue-eyed girls with straight hair, every picture of my vocal group in college where I’m trying to hide beneath suit jackets & scarves, every picture of me from my wedding where there’s industrial-strength tailoring holding me into my dress–every picture has a flaw I can’t help but to see.
These flaws are compounded by Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is a common thing for people with ADHD to struggle with.
I didn’t know I had ADHD until a few years ago. I just thought I was a weirdo, an outcast, the one “odd” personality type in a family that all tested one way while I tested another (side note: Personality tests were not designed for the neurodivergent. Throw them in the trash). I don’t fit in now, and I didn’t fit in then. Being told I was “different” added to the RSD. I looked different. I acted different. I was Built Different.
And therefore, I was BAD.
This voice that tells me I’m a “terrible, awful, horrible, wacky weirdo” has whispered in my ear for decades. It’s robbed me of being at peace with this “strange” mind, this “odd” body…it’s taken away the joy of being “fearfully and wonderfully made” that I should have celebrated, that I should BE celebrating. It’s sent me through cycles of self-harm & suicidal ideations that even though I recognize, I still encounter (sometimes through reasons I can’t control, i.e., medication changes–thank you, family & friends, for loving me through these processes!!!!!). Being weird or different, regardless of the fact that society is trying to preach inclusivity, isn’t welcomed, so I should just check out, right?
WRONG.
We just don’t realize how body image issues carry over into mental health…how it’s a spiritual issue that’s complicated by neurological and hormonal issues. Weight is NEVER the true problem. It’s ALWAYS a symptom, yet our healthcare system is only just starting to realize how true that is. Ask a fat person–we’ll tell you….but because we’re fat, we’re intrinsically stupid, right, doctors? And therefore, our opinion is void….and we pile on the mental health issues.
I’m 47 years old. It wasn’t until my ADHD was diagnosed and properly treated that I started looking over life experiences with a fresh filter & learned just how toxic and damaging my body image issues were. Losing weight has further complicated this retrospect, as I can see how many times health care providers dismissed major problems in the light of my weight. I have carried decades of guilt over my weight, like it defined my worth as a Child of God. I have gaslit myself & ignored root issues that played out in binge-eating & self-harm. I have looked at family pictures and privately sobbed (sometimes not privately) at how disgusting I looked & how I brought shame on our family with my size. I have shed oceans of tears over the combined issues that I now know were rooted in anxiety, depression, neurodiversity, rejection sensitive dysphoria, PTSD, and abandonment issues.
Shame is a heavy, heavy burden to carry. When it’s combined with RSD, it’s soul-crushing. When the burden of untreated ADHD finally began to be lifted, the lies of RSD began to untangle, & I began to get clarity on this skin that I am in, on this body (amongst other things). The ability to focus allowed me to silence the inner static that had me snacking constantly. Getting my ADHD treated led to a healthcare provider that got my diabetes under control through a semiglutide (which is also something I never thought I’d say publicly, but whatever, we’re all friends). I overhauled my healthcare team in 2021 & began the process of what would ultimately lead to losing 110 pounds.
But now what happens? I get shamed for using a semiglutide? That’s the only part of the journey people focus on?!?!? The shot gets all of the credit?!?!?!?!? Um, no–you can shove that. Today, I am refusing to take shame or blame for using an injection to first-&-foremost, get my T2D under control. Did it help me lose weight? Absolutely. Was it the only thing? NO. It’s taken multiple medication changes, getting my ADHD treated, therapy, better food choices, family support, and most importantly, remaining focused on listening to the Holy Spirit to carry the shame & to help me identify triggers. When you brain starts to work properly–when the synapses fire & connect– you can hear the truth of God so much more clearly. My ADHD meds have turned down the static in my brain, & have turned up how I tune in to Him!
There’s more of me to give, even as there’s technically less of me. Life is more….LIFE. That’s not saying things are easy; in fact, if you check my last blog, you’ll find our life has become intensely complicated in the last few months, & it’s been ROUGH. I see God working even in the storms…He is still in control.
And by His grace, so am I, at least, when it comes to my mental health support and my weight loss journey.
Physically, “don’t you feel better since you’ve lost the weight?!” is a misnomer. Losing weight can sometimes a.) Remove being fat as the cause of the problem and b.) Exacerbate the problem. As we speak, I’m in the process of ruling out yet-more autoimmune issues related to my legs & feet (did you know there’s a medical level above a neurologist?? Yep–I now see a “neuroscientist,” & it’s a trip). Testing for another issue means I’m off of my primary ADHD medicine for a couple of weeks, & IT’S NOT FUN. I’ve had a frightening decline in my energy levels (aren’t those supposed to be BETTER once you’ve lost weight?!?) that specialists are trying to identify, but that fatigue has been a cyclical issue that’s followed me for a decade. Now we at least know I’m exhausted not because I’m fat, but because I’m…me. That’s fun.
I’d like to throw up a face-palm for every doctor that missed signs of major issues because I was heavier. YOU. ARE. JERKS. 🙂 Jesus still loves you; I think you can go climb a cactus, for real.
Weight loss is hard, even in the face of perceived successes. I have anxiety every single time I clean out my closet (so bad!!!!!) or go into a store. I STRUGGLE with body image issues. The picture I’m posting below is what set off this blog post…I feel like I should LIKE this picture. I’m like, genuinely laughing in this picture, yet all I can see is the fact that because it was taken by someone who is shorter than I am, my neck looks fat. And fat, in my crazy-wired brain, is BAD. Therefore, even though I’ve lost weight, I’m still fat and ugly and this picture is terrible, right?
I sent this picture to someone who has been on a similar weight-loss journey & said, “I want to like this picture but I don’t.” She told me it was gorgeous (and considering she’s stone-cold STUNNING, I should take her word for it, but I don’t). She understands how I still feel like a heifer even after losing the weight; she struggles with the body image issues as well, even though she’s always had the figure I wish I had. The conversations I’ve had with her on our body image issues validates how I’m feeling, and how I know it’s messed up but can’t fix it.
I have to forcefully remind myself that losing weight does not define me. I’m terrified to gain it back, but if I do, gaining weight does not define me. This body is the shell for Who I Am, and although Who I Am is a definite weirdo, Jesus says I’m frickin’ SPECTACULAR. Whatever it takes for me to embrace that I am Who He Says I Am, that’s the journey I am committing to take, here on out.
My son is inspiring me to make this commitment. He’s on the shorter side of the kids in his class, & was recently tapped to play Napoleon in the school play (he didn’t really want a speaking role; he says that’s why he was cast in the role & I’m taking his word for it, even though a lil’ heathen said it was because he was short. I see her…duly noted, child, with a healthy dose of parental side-eye.)
My son’s body image issues started in the first-or-second grade, when the more athletic boys in the class were comparing muscles. What first grader has defined muscles?!?! Um, not mine–sorry, child, it’s not in the genetic cards. Since then, I try to stay aware of realistic comments like, “yeah, Mom, basketball’s not really my thing, hello?!?” verses shaming comments like, “I’m just fat, Mom.”
No, son, you’re not fat. I hate that you know that word and I hate that I’m the reason why. I’m sorry that your genetics predispose you to being on the thicker side but I also know that you’re on the cusp of a growth spurt & that you’ll lean out. I’m sorrier that he’s picked up on my own issues & struggles, and that being ADHD himself, he has some of the same eating habits that I developed to try & quiet my brain. “Bored eating” is a thing, & all of us fight it. I don’t know that the body image issues will resonate as deeply with him as it did with me at that age…but I also don’t think that body image issues are relegated to gender. Body dysmorphia is more impactful amongst the neurodivergent, so I suspect my son & I will be having this conversation a few times in the coming years. I am praying that he will come to me with these discussions to avoid the decades of pain this has caused me…
It’s very, very strange to see someone I haven’t seen in a long time & have them comment on my weight first-thing. Frankly, it’s rude–don’t do that. Don’t ask the people close to me how I’ve lost weight either–I’m an open book & if you were my friend, you’d know to ask me directly. If you don’t know, we’re not friends. We’re social media acquaintances in good standing. I don’t really want to discuss my weight, and part of the reason for this blog post is to hopefully put an end to the questions. I don’t like talking about weight–what woman does?!?–and if you like to talk about weight, good for you. Do it with someone else. It’s not a topic worth discussing.
Now, if you want to talk about Type 2 Diabetes, ADHD, RSD, or about how Jesus has changed my life, I will have these discussions All. Day. Long. The numbers on the scale, though? NO.
I am still the same person I was at +250 pounds. I am not, however, the same person I was 4 years ago…I look back at that person & I see a wholllllle lot of hurt that’s in the process of being identified and healed by a God Who has NEVER looked at me like anything but a beloved child.
I am listening to Him point out the pain in His gentle way, & love me to His wholeness.
This body will die some day. It will be fertilizer in the ground, or ash, or whatever…it isn’t eternal, so why have I put so much worth into to what people think of it? Why have I allowed it to have so much power over me when I look at it in the mirror? I can dress it up, slim it down, work it out–I can do everything within my power to build a body that doesn’t scream, “YUCK” when I look at it, but none of that will ever do anything more than build a shell for a divine creation of the Most High.
I’m worth dying for–He said so, & He lived-&-died for me. He rose again, & He is still working miracles through people today. All of our pain–all of my pain–& all of our struggles are things He is longing to hold in His hands, not to wipe away, but to walk us through. Weight loss is often seen by the world as a kind of salvation; I can tell you first-hand it is NOT. It’s a tool, however, & it can be used to harm or to help. I’m choosing to use it as a tool to point out what areas are still raw & that need to be given over to Jesus…where my insecurities show that I can further lay things down for Him, & where I realize the idols I’ve put in front of Him…I’m choosing to lose the weight but gain dependence on Jesus to a greater extent, to gain transparency with Him & to stop masking to such a degree that I convince myself that I’m fine. I’m not. I need Him, & I need His work in my mind, body, and soul.
He’s doing new things, and for that, more than anything–ADHD treatment, weight loss, etc.–I am so thankful.
Now you know. Let’s put this topic to bed, ‘k? 🙂 Unless you want me to flip it into a full sermon, because…I will. 🙂
Dementia, Legacies, & the Hope that Remains…
I found this picture in my Facebook memories today, & it resonated with me once again.
You see, in the midst of everything that’s gone on in the past 6-8 months (job changes, job losses, losses of family members, etc.), my husband & I have also been walking through dementia with his mother.
I think the trauma responses have finally quieted enough that the reality of my mother-in-law’s condition is finally hitting me.
I married The Golden Child—I married The Baby of the family, & those who attended my wedding may remember that when my stepdad got to the whole, “if there’s anyone who has anything to say about why these two should not be married,” etc (which I begged him NOT to say, but he said he had to), I physically turned my body & stared down my Mother-In-Law, because if anyone was going to say anything, it was her. 😊Everyone laughed…except us…😊
I knew what I was doing and where I was marrying into, & I knew I had my work cut out for me…but she also knew I loved her son, & that he loved me. It has to be a hard thing, to marry your son off…Lord knows, someday, the shoe will be on the other foot, & I will have a young bride staring down at me, LOL! Oh, honey, I AM NOT THE ONE!!!
That being said, my MIL & I had some transitions to walk through. We learned, though—after all, at the bottom of everything, was the fact that we both love David ferociously. I began to learn about being a wife and eventually, a mother; she began to learn that no, I’m not a great cook, but I can bake, I can stain a deck, & I can wheel her through a mall like nobody’s business. 😊
My MIL could try someone, but she could also teach a thing or two. When doctors told her she’d never hold her knitting needles again, she’d crochet blankets for days. She’d make the most creative jewelry, & she’d proudly show me all of her pieces every time we came over. She’d make beautiful beaded ornaments, & she’d share her handicrafts with everyone that visited. She constantly made things & shared them, and talked about how much people liked her colorful designs. I love creative people, & I loved to see what she’d made…I have so many things she’s made, & I’m grateful. I shared things I made with her as well, & I have so many fun memories of family get-togethers with everyone at her house…
As time has gone on, though, dementia pulled my father-in-law away from us & made family events a bit more challenging. My MIL became basically confined to bed, and is now in a nursing home facility where her dementia has taken over…The loss of who I knew Vinita to be, with the behaviors & outbursts she’s been prone to having, have made me advocate for her even more strongly with the hospice and nursing home teams, & she is now, thanks to hospice, getting her medications more consistently. This means she has more stable days, and has less bouts of tears and anxious behavior.
This doesn’t mean her dementia is resolved, though; yesterday, the social worker said she thought she was a child. What is that like, to think you’re a child, but to be in the body of someone in their late 70’s? How confusing that must be…to sit & think about it from her perspective, really hit me emotionally this week.
At some point, my mother-in-law will not know who my husband is.
This realization breaks my heart. I find my faith challenged in this situation—I mean, why? Why does she have to walk this walk? Why wouldn’t Jesus just take her home and give her rest?!? I don’t understand, & I’m trying to take the deepest of breaths to ask Him even though I know He’s under no obligation to divulge his plans.
The social worker said when she came in yesterday, that my MIL thought she was a child, & that she went on-&-on about the goodness of God. “Ms. Vinita had a good day.”
On the bad days, she cries & asks Jesus to heal her body….
On the lucid days, she asks Jesus to take her Home…
The picture that came up in my Facebook memories speaks to how I find encouragement with “Ms. Vinita” even now…on the good days, we remember His goodness. On the bad days, we cry out to Him. Every day, we thank Him and we focus on Him, regardless of how we feel or what our minds tell us…
I know we’re saying goodbye to someone who is still here…I still don’t have that reconciled in my brain. What I have burned into my spirit, though, is that Ms. Vinita’s legacy will always be that no matter what we’re enduring, we take it to the Lord in ways that defy understanding & expectation. I find myself encouraged in my faith even as I’m struggling to make things make sense, by her example. We call on Jesus…in the good, in the bad, and in the in-between.
I hope when my time comes, that even a small part of that is in my legacy to leave.
We love you, Mom Cooley…we’re thankful to Jesus for how He holds you in His hands…
“You Are Loved.”
I woke up this morning to this note on the bathroom sink:
“Hey, Mom, Jericho here. Just wanted you to know, take care of yourself and that you are loved. Love, Jericho.”
This note has now been permanently scanned into my online drive and tacked to the corkboard in my office where it shall remain in perpetuity.
This note may wind up eventually tattooed somewhere that remains to be seen.
This note both undoes me & revives me simultaneously, in the best & worst ways…
My son was 2 years old when I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Thyroid cancer is the “good kind” of cancer, they say–it’s the kind where they remove the issue, supplement you with Thyroid Replacement Hormones, and send you on your merry way. Those that know me well, know this has not been my journey; I’ve had clinically-detectable thyroid cancer for almost 10 years now. “Clinically detectable” means that it’s still there (“residual activity in thyroid bed”), but not in so many levels that they can go in and physically remove it. I liken it to having a time-bomb in your neck, just waiting for it to either die or explode. It can be a mental process, for lack of a better word, to ignore it. On the plus side, thyroid cancer is notoriously slowwwwww, so although my tumor markers have gone up-&-down over the years, I’ve never gone so high that I’ve had to have a second surgery (there are plenty of times where I’ve begged them to just take out the remaining lymph nodes in my neck so that there wouldn’t be anywhere else for those booger cells to hide!!!).
It’s not uncommon for me to say the removal of my thyroid ruined my life. Getting my medicine titrated correctly has been a process, especially with the weight loss; the initial determination to figure out what medicine would work for me, darn near killed me. The thought is to keep my TSH levels so suppressed, that it makes an unfriendly environment for the tumor markers, & they’ll eventually, hopefully, just DIE (can we get on with it already?!?) Issues with diabetes, sleep apnea, & my legs/feet have been ongoing since my thyroid was removed…but the worst thing that’s happened since my thyroidectomy has been, hands down, the FATIGUE.
This is not like, “ohmygosh, I’m TIRED.” This is not like, “I’ve been up all night with a crying baby & now I have to go to work,” tired. This is not even like, “it’s finals’ week & I have 4 papers, 3 tests, and a volcano to make,” tired. This is literally like some evil being sneaks up behind you, cuts off your ankles & throws a lead cloak over you as you fall to the ground, dead in the water, can’t move/think/function, TIRED, & it hits out of nowhere. I usually say, “oh, look, someone’s unplugged me,” & down I go…
I’m truckin’ along yesterday, got home from church, started working on the laundry (I normally do this on Saturday, but we went to an art show on Saturday, so please don’t judge me for doing chores on a Sunday), hung up a few things in the sunroom, & stopped to admire my work….BOOM. I’m on the couch. “Just give me a few minutes.”
My son brought me a blanket & a pillow. David made some dinner. I laid there & took my few minutes. They both know how this goes–they know once it hits, I’m dead weight. I think they hate it as much as I do, because it’s not a good look to see your mom/wife deflate like a sad balloon.
It affects them as well, & I truly hate that.
I hate that I’ve had to cancel plans, or that I have to be so strict about weeknight activities (I can’t really do them, or there’s hell to pay the next day). I don’t like going to bed at 8:00pm. I have to stay disciplined about what I commit to, because there’s just no gas in the tank & I need to stay employed. Now that I’m back in an office full-time, I have to prioritize how much I do in my non-working hours, because otherwise, things get skewed. I have to be selfish with my time & protect it in ways I’ve never really committed to, before.
I now know that when I don’t establish & protect boundaries related to how I spend my time & energy, that fatigue leads to major issues—brain fog, sickness, impulse-control problems. My mental health swiftly declines, & I wind up in crisis mode, along with my family. It’s not just about my health–it’s about theirs, too–which is fuel for the need to protect myself and them. After what I went through last year, I realized that I had my priorities out-of-whack & I am grateful for the learning experience, even though it was painful. I will fiercely protect what I’ve learned, & I am trying to do what I need to so that I don’t have to repeat the process.
My son hasn’t had the experience of knowing me pre-thyroidectomy, & there’s a certain sadness that comes with that. He’s seen the fallout–the mental & physical struggle–& he’s learned compassion. Understanding is hard for him–he’s an only child, & he gets all of the attention & assistance he needs, so he doesn’t have a true understanding of what it’s like to have to figure things out on his own–but he’s learning sympathy (& that note just UNDID me–what a sweet kid he is!!!!!!!!!). My husband has been along for one heck of a ride; half of our marriage has been taken over in many ways by the collateral damage my thyroid cancer has caused. I’m not on this journey alone, & he’s been by my side. Our little household has rallied around me. It’s messier than I’d like for it to be, but it’s so full of love–that note from my son this morning was a huge, gigantic hug that reminded me that even when Monday morning slaps me in the face, I’m coming back home to people that love me, & it makes it all worth it.
I feel like a burden to my household, but I know that’s the enemy talking. God reminds me that I am loved, that I’m His, & that the sun is continuing to rise. He reminds me there is tremendous peace & hope with Him, & that He is using this journey to teach me new ways of relying on Him. He reminds me to hold onto my gratitude, & not to let the enemy twist my focus onto the things that frustrate me–that’s a waste of my energy, & that’s too precious to lose on something like that. Gratitude revives our spirits–it ‘s like in Monsters, Inc., where they find out that laughter is a better fuel than screaming.
We really get much farther in thinking about what we’re grateful for, than in what’s weighing us down.
In my last blog, I mentioned a few things that I’ve struggled with in the last 6 months or so, mostly related to some bitterness associated with a former friend. My therapist this week encouraged me to begin to focus on gratitude, & while I at first felt like I was being shamed for grieving all of the losses & relationship issues, I then realized she was correct: It is time to begin a season of gratitude. I am thankful for a great many things that had to do with that former friend. She led me to a time of employment that made a huge impact on my career & my self-esteem. Without that season, I wouldn’t have developed my personal mission statement. Without that season, I wouldn’t have befriended Jen, Jacque, & Stephen, three people who have changed my life. Without that season, I wouldn’t have been exposed to such a beautiful, diverse culture that I was privileged to be around in that place of employment.
Without that season & without those relationships, I wouldn’t have realized that I am worthy of so much–I am worthy of boundaries. I am worthy of standing up for myself. I am worthy, through Christ, of being fought for. That former friend led me to those three friends, who gave me the gift of solidarity. They teach me every day, along with my other friends, along with my husband and my son, that I Am Not Alone, & that life is GOOD, even when it’s hard.
When I am out of gas, when I can’t lift my head, I have a team of family & friends who point me to gratitude & that takes me to Jesus…and we can make it one more trip around the sun.
We got this.
He’s got me.
And I. Am. Loved.
Hi.
In the words of the Blessed Backstreet Boys (paraphrased), “OhmyGosh, I’m back again….”
I realized I hadn’t written or published anything since March of 2023—that’s a really, really long time to lay something down, and there’s a lot behind the whys-&-the-hows, but let’s just say that my priorities got out of line…my spiritual walk got a little loopy…and life got really, really busy. Between wrestling with theology, work commitments, and having former friends stab me in the back, twist the knife, laugh while I bled, and kick me off of the bridge (nah, I’m not bitter), it’s been a minute. 😊
I had a management position that I loved…I had the best boss of my life…I had a team of employees that I worked hard to build rapport & transparency with…and then I didn’t. After my manager was unceremoniously disposed of by an institution he worked for over 20 years, a former friend of mine became my manager. In full transparency, it was a trainwreck, & I fell apart from a mixture of straight-up bullying/gaslighting, a lack of support, an overload of work, and my own lack of respect for the position this person had attained. Combine this with an employee who valued her own emotional preening over the truth, & you have an untenable situation that I gladly walked away from (truthfully, I would have gone on in that toxic situation until the stress killed me. I don’t have a lot of “quit” in me. However, I found myself facing a choice that didn’t really leave me much of an option, along with a son who point-blank asked me “why are you doing this to yourself?!?” He was right). The anxiety absolutely crushed me; the loss of the position crushed me. And as I have so often done in my life, I found myself face-down on the couch, crying out to God: “Where else can I go?” (You can read the previous blog post for more on this quote that I may as well get tattooed on my face.)
Once the decision was made, I felt like a huge weight that I hadn’t even realized was there, lifted off of my shoulders. “This isn’t punitive,” said the Lord. “It’s deliverance.” And He was right—my theology, particularly in the absence of attending church regularly, had begun to get muddled. Loving people out of one’s own resources rather than out of an abundance of the Holy Spirit meant that I was trying to pour out of an empty cup. I was trying to sustain the mental & spiritual energy it takes to guard my heart while reaching out to others. When you don’t strengthen your armor through prayer & support, it gets weak, and “hath God not said,” gets pretty strong in your mind…
Thus began my #AdventuresInUnemployment this fall.
David & I have had random periods of unemployment throughout our almost-20 years of marriage, but honestly, I’d not been out of work since 2008, & the world has CHANGED in regard to finding a position. I struggled with an identity crisis—did I still want to be in management? Nope, not for a minute. PTSD can be defined as a persistent, anxiety-inducing issue that lasts more than 45 days, & believe me, I had work-related PTSD. This position was not my first management position, but it was in education, & I just didn’t have the foundation I needed to do what I wanted & needed to do. I didn’t have the support to manage well or to understand the expectations, & I spent more time caring about my employees than pushing them beyond what they wanted to do. I have no regrets about leaving my own comfort zone in healthcare & transitioning to education, but I do have regrets about not voicing real issues over voicing the emotions those issues elicited. I have regrets about not setting personal boundaries…about all of the nights & the weekends I spent supporting departments & programs and cleaning up messes…about spending half of my vacation answering emails, & about the anxiety I let build up that suffocated my joy. I have regrets about not protecting myself, and ultimately, about not protecting my family from the burnt-out mess I became.
In a beautiful, glorious tapestry that only looked messy to us at the time, David lost his job last spring. He found another one just before school started, & then I lost my job in the fall. The next few months would change our lives…
In August, we received a phone call that my mother-in-law went on hospice. My brother-in-law & my sister-in-law gave up everything to move in with my in-laws to take care of her, along with my father-in-law (who had dementia, as did my MIL).
In November, my brother-in-law died unexpectedly, & we were devastated. My husband lost his best friend; we lost the most giving, kind man we’d ever known. And on top of that, we lost my mother-in-law’s caregiver, who understandably needed to take time to mourn the shock of losing her spouse of close to 40 years.
We utilized a hospice benefit so we could hold Eugene’s funeral & temporarily placed my MIL into a nursing home…where she broke her femur. We began the process of finding a place for her to recover, even as she continued to struggle with hallucinations & the delusions of dementia.
In December, I received a call from my biological dad’s caregiver & friend, Tammy: “Your dad’s in the hospital, okay?” Me: “Well, really, what’s new? I’ll come up and see him in the morning.” I had a huge interview that day…the kind of interview where you go Business Formal, you suit up, you psych yourself up. The position was thiiiiiiiis close, and this was my last step to a salary & a position that could restore so much to my family & put me back in community service….I finished the interview and drove out to the county hospital…where I discovered my father was in the ICU & was dying of congestive heart failure, COPD, and cirrhosis of the liver.
I wasn’t ready.
I used to say that whenever my biological father died, I’d not shed a tear. This, as it turns out, is a lie. I was devastated.
I was devastated at the loss of a potential relationship. I was devastated at the loss of a terrible relationship. I was devastated at the time that was wasted to abandonment, addiction & abuse. I was devastated by his own admission that he was a terrible man—which we all knew–& I was devastated to be the one to call my sister to come & say goodbye.
Two years ago, God called me to reach out to him & to try to restore communication. It was HARD—I was angry, & I had to hand all of that over to God even as I unpacked it all & processed it with therapy & prayer. I loved my phone calls with Dad—neither one of us likes to talk on the phone—they were short-&-sweet, & he always ended with, “I love you, baby.” “I love you too, Daddy.”
Even typing this, I can feel the tears fall. I won’t get to hear that again this side of Heaven…but I know my Dad knew Jesus. Broken, ornery, abusive, & straight-up wretched—he made his confession of faith, & Jesus welcomed him Home. For those that Fred hurt, they may not be happy to hear that, but I sure am, because we’re all the same in the eyes of God.
I got to see my sister say goodbye…I got to see my dad lay eyes on the daughter he hadn’t seen in 13 years, & I will never, ever forget what that looked like. My son got to say goodbye to a grandfather he’d gotten to meet (which I had once said would never happen). Even my husband got to say goodbye, & my best friend, Vinita, supported us through the entire journey (as did her husband, Casey—he took care of Jericho during our last day with Dad, & I will never forget that).
My dad died without pain, surrounded by his kids (& Vinita, who’s a bonus sister), 90’s country music, prayer, & knowing he was loved. He didn’t die alone—that was so important to me, as I’ve lost 2 uncles who died alone in their home, & I didn’t want that for my father. Does anyone deserve the dedication of people who surround them in their going-home, as long as it takes?
Yes. Yes, we do—NO ONE deserves to die alone. Everyone deserves a human presence next to them, praying them into eternity. That’s a gift, & I am so, so thankful my sister, my best friend, & I got to give that to my Dad.
I wound up getting a different job than the one I’d had the “big” interview with, & I’m back in healthcare again. I may wind up going back into management after I learn the business part of this new organization; I love that I get to combine education & healthcare, & that I’m doing something I’m marginally familiar with while learning alllllllllll kinds of new things. I’m realizing that the stress of my previous position literally short-circuited my brain & affected my health to the point that I was starting to wonder if I had a neurological condition.
News flash: I don’t, at least, where my brain is affected. 😊 I was just overworked & unsupported. It matters.
Having those weeks of unemployment allowed me time to get my thoughts in order…to focus on healing, on what I did wrong, where I could improve, what I needed to do in regards to my career….I focused on organizing the house, learning new recipes, and FINALLY, on how to cook the perfect chicken breast. I feel like even as I was dealing with trauma on multiple levels, the time I had gave me an outlet to rediscover my joy in everyday life. I LIKE organizing things. I LIKE cooking new recipes. I LIKE having my house in order, building shelves, and getting things sorted out. I like my solitude, and my time to cry/laugh/talk to God.
We went back to church. We found a small congregation close to home that keeps us in the community, has denominational support & accountability, and has solid leadership. We’re still working on introducing ourselves (we got waylaid with the flu that took us out for 3 weeks in February), but I think there’s a lot of potential there. It’s healing to be in a body of people that worship together…
But we weren’t done with trauma, it seems….
In January, we received a phone call that my father-in-law was left unattended in his home & fell down the stairs. He passed away, & our family was devastated. Three major losses in three months, on top of David’s mother being on hospice & my starting a new job…then the flu…fighting Medicare for coverage in the nursing home & dealing with taking over administrative tasking for my in-laws…issues in my family stemming from my father’s death that I don’t even understand & still have me reeling…There’s a repeated theme in my life of abandonment & silence when behaviors are not what is expected, & being on the receiving end of it so many times, is excruciating…but seeing my child on the receiving end of it, is so much more than infuriating.
I’m struggling with loss, with anger & sadness & grief. I’m frustrated, worried about my husband, & fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my son & protect him from everyone-&-everything to an extreme.
I’m working my way out of the wilderness & I suspect it will be a very long time until I feel the branches part….but the beautiful thing in the mess is that I know, even if I die in this wilderness, I’m not alone. I’m “leaning on my Beloved,” per Song of Solomon 8:5.
So, where do things stand? I’ve just written over 2,000 words about the utter s—show our lives have been for the last few months, but here I sit, grinning like a Cheshire cat as I type this line.
THERE IS STILL JOY. We’re still laughing, and every chuckle is a giant flip-off to the demons that circle to steal the peace God has poured over us. We are drowning, but we’re laughing at the hair in our eyes as we cling to the life raft of God’s love. We don’t know when or how we’re going to get our feet back under us, but we’ll hold each other’s hand & fall down together. We got into an argument last night that lasted all of 10 minutes & ended with a hug—we’re broken, loud, ridiculous, & we’re basically walking disasters, but We Belong to Jesus, & we know He has us in His hands.
“The human world—it’s a mess.” Sebastian is RIGHT. It’s messy. Our son is 12—he’s almost a teenager—and he actually keeps us grounded when we’re extra-ridiculous. He keeps our sense of humor rolling at the most inappropriate times, & sometimes it’s hard for me to reprimand the sass when I’m snorting back a roar. It’s hard to bawl when you’ve been Rick-Rolled for the 75th time that week, I mean, c’mon….
We’re in The Waiting as to how we heal, what happens next, and how we put one foot in front of another. We’re leaning on our Beloved. We’re (generally) laughing with each other and occasionally foraying into Trash TV because it’s mind-numbingly pacifying. We’re getting ready for Baseball Season (woohoo) & I am so, so grateful to be employed, especially with it being something I enjoy & with management that is supportive and patient.
We’re resting in the Lord as much as we can. We’ll move forward; we’ll occasionally take a step backwards. We’ll mourn & laugh, & we’ll look at each other a few years from now and say, “how in the world did we get here?!?” (We do that now, in all honesty).
And most of all, we’ll continue to be thankful for the support of friends and family, physical and spiritual, who give us the “grace to grieve” & the space to process…
We’re grateful.
We miss you every day, Dads and Eugene. Hold Hannah for us, give my Grandma a hug, & save us a seat…
Restoration in the Face of Deconstruction
I’ve probably started to write 15 blogs about the concept of Deconstruction. It’s a pervasive, sneaky, deceptive line of philosophy that breaks down Christianity into four words: “Hath God Not Said?” If you remember who spoke those four words, you’ll understand where I’m going with this. “Hath God Not Said?” in the King James vernacular, are the four words Satan, disguised as the Snake, said to Eve in the Garden of Eden just before she made her eternally-impacting bite of the forbidden fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good & Evil. With those four words, Eve decided she needed to know more than the Lord wanted her to know. She decided that her thirst for knowledge was more important than the spiritual consequences, and so began the downfall of humanity (please note that I am in no way, shape, or form blaming Eve for the Fall of Man. I believe Adam & Eve hold the responsibility evenly & that humanity has used Eve’s arrogance to subjugate and discriminate against women since that singular moment, but that’s another blog. 🙂 ).
So, Deconstruction began in the very infancy of earth…Satan came in, made Eve question the truth she’d known since Creation, & that line of “wait a minute, is THAT what God said? Is THAT what He intended?!?” has been used & abused ever since…it’s nothing new.
In 2020, I started studying the Torah with a small group of people–my home church at the time–and as the pandemic began, we took a pretty deep dive. It was fascinating; I found myself going back to the Garden & the original plan God had for His people. As we studied things in the original Hebrew, I really found myself getting more & more frustrated at the differences between the Hebrew intentions & the English translations. This wasn’t anything new to me, but it was the first time I REALLY took a deep dive, & it came with some very frustrating side effects. I’m still struggling with some things. I’m struggling with how God laid out His word very clearly, yet His people even in those early days started off on such a wrong foot. The precedent that was set even by patriarchs such as Abraham, Moses, Isaac–these are deeply flawed people who were responsible for creating the foundations of the children of God–how do we reconcile this? How do we trust a murderer to accurately transcribe the words of God? How do we trust a man who openly deceived kings, to raise up an anointed people?
And then I REALLY got into my head about language, which has always been a struggle for me, even in the New Testament. There are Hebrew words that we CAN’T translate into English–we don’t have the words for it–and there are words the translators were actively influenced into mistranslating by those that funded the work (the King James Version is a great example, particularly in regards to baptism).
I’m still struggling with these issues. If I had the time to do the deep dive into Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek, I’d like to say that I would; in all honesty, I’m probably too lazy to do the work myself. I know that’s kind of pathetic to admit. Do I still believe the Bible is the word of God. Yes, I do. Do I believe that our English translation has some work to do? Absolutely…but for now, it’s the best we have. Am I willing to bank my salvation, my lifestyle, and my eternity on “the best we have?”
Yes, I am.
I have almost 37 years of reading/studying/singing this Book under my belt (sometimes barely, sometimes voraciously), & it’s never steered me wrong. It’s always drawn me closer to a God Who understands and welcomes my questions. There are things I do NOT understand (imprecatory Psalms? Those seem harsh…although I understand the sentiments, particularly when I am stuck in traffic.:) ), & I firmly believe that’s okay. Where we do not understand, we trust. That’s faith.
That’s a hard lesson I learned a long time ago. I’m reminded of it a LOT as I go through this journey of processing issues with translations.
Most of the time, when I compare the Hebrew information I’m given (my husband is really, really great about studying this stuff beyond what I can begin to process) I get aggravated as to why it’s not broken down more accurately in the English version. It always, ALWAYS puts a new light on the very character of God & His intentions for His people. In fact, the more you look at the Hebrew words in the Old Testament, the more you get the picture of a loving God Who wants a people that are truly set apart & dedicated to His goodness. Most of us that are raised in the church see an Old Testament God Who has His finger on the “smite” button…but it’s not the case, so in reviewing the original languages of the Old Testament, it causes you to realize just how much He truly adores His kids!
The New Testament is the restoration of the separation caused in the beginning of the Old Testament–The sin we started with, the gap between us & the very throne of God, is erased and reconciled with Jesus’ sacrifice in the Gospels. It’s a beautiful, circular coming to salvation that God planned thousands of years ago.
Yesterday during worship, “restoration” was a word I couldn’t get away from. There are times where we feel so stripped down; I’ve really struggled lately with feelings of worthlessness & of being ignored, gaslit, & dismissed. It’s actually a lifelong issue. I guess I’m finally able to put words to the feeling, and in doing so, am finally able to identify and process how to get through it (maybe). I think when we talk about restoration, we look at physical and material things. Have you ever thought about it in regards to our mental and spiritual health?
What would life look like if we were mentally and spiritually restored and refreshed?
We sang the song, “Homecoming” by Cory Asbury, & it hit me like a brick in the head. What does it mean, to be restored?!? Is it a restoration of mental health? Peace…feeling acknowledged and valued…feeling like I matter? Is it a restoration of family? What would it be like, to hold hands with both of my kids? What would it be like, to see my Grandma again? To feel her kiss my cheek or call me “spider monkey?”
What will it feel like, to be whole?
We’re going to know–we’re GOING TO KNOW. We have that promise. Amos 9:14 says, “and I will bring my people Israel back from exile. ‘They will rebuild the ruined cities & live in them. They will plant vineyards & drink their wine; they will make gardens & eat their fruit’.” The Bible is full of verses about restoration.
Do you know how deconstruction ties in here?
Deconstruction seeks to actively undermine the authority of Scripture and in doing so, it steals every promise in the Word.
I don’t want to live like that.
Deconstruction puts the intellectualization of the Bible above the spiritual intention of the written love letter we have from Jesus.
I don’t want to live like that.
Deconstruction steals the restoration of what this world steals from us, and replaces it with the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil.
I know what’s good. I know what’s evil.
And I choose the restoration that Love gives.
I choose the promise of our Homecoming.
I choose the promise of Jesus.
And when I don’t understand, I seek clarity. When I don’t get clarity, I seek peace. And when peace is evasive, I still trust in Him, because through it all, His Spirit still loves without fail.
Deconstruction will only serve to decimate the spiritual, but restoration will heal your soul & deliver the promises of eternal life…so that’s what I pick. I hope you do, too.
“Don’t Get Drunk and Do Things!”
Like that title? LOL—okay, maybe it’s a bit click-baitey. Life moves FAST, and even though I try to document all of the hilarious things my kiddo says (#ConvosWithRico), there are some things that I just don’t get the chance to write about. Not all of them are funny, but even the “unfunny” conversations have a way of ending with a laugh. It’s just part of how I’m wired, and seemingly, how my son is wired (also, David has a pretty good sense of humor. He’s not as funny as he thinks he is, but he has his moments).
I love #Fail videos. Jericho & I have watched Fail videos since I first discovered Fail Army on YouTube. I’ve loved Fail videos since I first discovered America’s Funniest Home Videos (in its first incarnation, and now, as AFV), and I think it’s because had there been video cameras as easily accessible when I was a kid, I’m sure I could have gone viral for my own idiocy. I once fell over a trashcan in the middle of Disney World…and I once tripped over a Safety Cone in Northwest Plaza, making my poor mother laugh so hard that she SAT DOWN in the MIDDLE of the MALL because she couldn’t walk from laughing. I have a knack for tripping and falling, and it really hasn’t gotten that much better in my adulthood. In fact, if I were to keep writing about all of my klutzy adventures, I wouldn’t stop typing until December. I’m that graceful.
So, my lack of coordination and/or general lack of observance has made me fodder for Fail videos my entire life, and if I can laugh at myself when I fall down, I think I have the right to laugh at videos of other people doing the same thing, as long as no one is bleeding.
Generally, we’ll watch montages of Fail videos and they’ll involve things like snowboarding, or stairs, or falling off of porches—all things your Average Joe-Jane can do with aplomb. Sometimes these videos clearly involve alcohol, and this has involved moments of Adam Sandler-inspired parenting: “Alcohol = puke = smelly mess = Nobody Likes You.” It’s a classic quote, and has served me well in both reminders and in education, about the perils of booze. And let’s face it—Mr. Sandler knew what he was saying. I think anyone can point a finger and preach to someone about alcohol, but how much of that actually sticks? I’ve never, ever forgotten that scene in that movie, and it’s lasted in my brain far longer than any sermon on the topic.
I have a fear of my son taking things like alcohol way too lightly.
He’s 8. Alcohol and drugs are far too commonplace in society, either in billboards or commercials, or in news stories, or in random conversations. Addictive behaviors present pretty early on, and I have to wonder if we intervene with a healthy presentation about what addiction is, and how it can change your life, at this age? Do we stoke curiosity, or do we lay a foundation of preparation?
I joke about being addicted to chocolate (I totally am), or that he’s addicted to his tablet or to YouTube (curse you, YouTube. I rue the day I let you into my house!!!!!!); we talk about how Jesus breaks addictions, and how it’s good to talk to Him about these things.
Fail videos often show cups of beer or obviously inebriated people, doing really dumb stuff. It’s an easy conversation starter along those Adam Sandler lines: “Alcohol = Fall down and look like an idiot, and get made fun of by the entire world = Never goes away in Cyberspace.” We talk about actions having permanent consequences. Drunk people doing dumb things have enabled me to have gentle conversations with my son about feelings of abandonment and sadness, because someone I loved, loved alcohol more than me…Nothing good comes from the abuse of alcohol or drugs, and it’s not the life Jesus wants for us.
I say all of this because this past Sunday, I realized how much of an impact some of these conversations have had—you know, you don’t realize what your kids retain until it comes back to haunt you. David was making pork steaks, and he opened up a beer to add to the marinade. He put half of a beer in with the steaks and he gave me the rest of it to drink (it was a Wicked Orchard Apple Ale from Aldi, and they’re delicious. They’re also AMAZING to use in beer bread). Jericho looks at me wide-eyed and goes, “MOM!!!!!!! DON’T GET DRUNK AND DO THINGS!!!!”
I laughed so, so hard. Like, snort-laughed. I think he thought that if I drank that half-beer, I would immediately start falling down and being a Fail video star. My son says the funniest things, and he has no filter (much to my chagrin—I have found myself LAUNCHING to intervene after he’s said something unintentionally rude or embarrassing), & I know that will tone down as he gets older. I feel like by maintaining the #ConvosWithRico, I’ve made it where I can retrace every funny thing he’s said that I’ve documented online. It’s sentimental—I know these things will decrease as his awareness of the world and his maturity levels increases. He’s growing up…and there are so many building blocks I want to lay out for him as he’s on his way.
Some things are too heavy for him to understand, and I worry that the world will throw them at him too soon. Corrie Ten Boom has a marvelous quote in her book, The Hiding Place, that I’m often reminded of when I’m faced with a Big Topic:
‘And so seated next to my father in the train compartment, I suddenly asked, “Father, what is sexsin?” He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case off the floor and set it on the floor. Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?” he said. I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning.
“It’s too heavy,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “and it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger, you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you“.’
The world wants our kids to grow up way too soon. Conversations about sex, desire, gender roles, drugs, alcohol, etc., are heavy topics, and they’re not meant to bear the weight of them too soon. It’s our job as parents to determine the when and the how of those conversations (and not the schools, although they’ve taken it on as parents are often too naïve or too inattentive to do so). When certain conversations become unavoidable (it’s astounding how much alcohol and drug advertising there is, or how much it sneaks into family programming or cartoons. Beer billboards are a dime-a-dozen in this city–go figure), I try to make them relatable or in kid-friendly terms. Because of my paternal family history, I know that addictive tendencies run deep, so I want my son to understand how dangerous these things are. I want him to know there are consequences and that Jesus offers both freedom, and a better way.
Our conversation on Sunday went from me laughing, to a gentle explanation of the concept I quoted earlier: “Everything in moderation.” Jericho brought it up again yesterday in a conversation about cigarettes (SO. MUCH. LITTERING.) & I rephrased my quote to, “everything in moderation…except cigarettes & drugs. Those are a Hard NO.” I’ll probably repeat that to him countless times as he grows up and faces the world. I hope & pray that David & I are building a foundation with him that will keep him protected from things like being drunk and doing stupid things (and worse). I hope that these gentle conversations that start with laughter still impact his heart, and that the concepts of love, truth, and purity stay with his spirit as he grows…Maybe I’m not taking the most conventional approach? I don’t know…I feel like preaching things “at” him will only push him to rebel, but that being honest about the good, the bad, the idiotic, and the ugly, will help him understand & to respect the dangers that are out there. Kids are going to grow up and make their own decisions…I want to raise this child to make Good Decisions, grounded in faith, with wisdom and intelligence. Maybe we set him on this path with a big dose of faith coupled with love and a sense of humor, to gird him for the journey…
Unpacking the Brain Backpack, AKA, “What grade did my kid just get?!?!?”
My kiddo is smart.
I’m not saying he’s like, “genius-savant-off-the-charts” smart, but the kid can keep up conversations with people three times his age. Half the time, when he’s in trouble, he can skillfully debate with my on a level that leaves me shaking my head (and he definitely keeps me on my toes). I’m not looking forward to the teen years, let me tell you.
He’s quick-witted, easily distracted, and possibly OCD when he gets on a topic of choice. He may have a slight dose of ADD, but as long as he continues to maintain acceptable levels of self-control, I’m not going to look at getting a formal diagnosis. The investment into keeping him in a small, faith-based school means that he’s getting a lot of one-on-one relationships and education, so we’re able to maintain independence as parents when it comes to our child’s unique personality (Unpopular opinion: When your kid is 1 in a class of 24, with 1 teacher, and they have a lot of energy/thoughts/need to express all of the above, the teacher can’t possibly give them the space they need to do that, without affecting the other kids. Kids then fall behind, because they’re not getting what they need and they’re in an impossible environment. It’s hard on the teacher, the child, and the parents, and many times, parents are told they need to get their kids “under control.” The conditioning has become to get your child a formal diagnosis, an Individual Educational Plan, medication in many situations, counseling, and an asterisk that they are “different” or somehow not on a level that’s even with their peers. I feel like this would be the path we’d be facing in public school. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but I am saying that it’s not for us. Small classes, individual attention, a solid curriculum, and most importantly, a foundation of faith, is the education I grew up with and is the education we chose for our child. I understand it is not for everyone—I’m not here to pass judgment, and am in no way saying that all kids are treated the same, or should expect to be. I will definitely say that I’m a huge advocate for Christian education, and that if you ever have any questions about it, I’m more than happy to answer to the best of my abilities. I went to Christian schools from Kindergarten through my Bachelor’s degree, and my son is now in his 4th year of Christian education, so I feel like I’ve got a pretty good grasp on the good, the bad, and the scary.). My son’s teachers have all celebrated Jericho’s strengths and have challenged his rough edges; I don’t always agree with them, but I will always support them (and when I don’t agree, I reach out to them to clarify my questions, and they ALWAYS respond with kindness).
Second Grade is challenging my son. I have to say that I don’t believe it’s challenging his intelligence as much as it’s challenging his patience and his focus (and looking back, I wish I would have realized the same things about myself as I faced my own academic issues). He gets the facts straight for his classes, but then doesn’t exhibit the focus he needs in order to recall those facts. He doesn’t want to slow down enough to have legible handwriting for his answer to count as correct. This has led to a number of discussions (many ending in tears) about, “Jericho, what is the point of knowing the answer if you won’t take the time to write it neatly enough to be read? You KNOW this stuff!!!” I find myself getting frustrated. I don’t want to go the route that devolves into hurting feelings, or making him feel like he’s “less than.” It can be challenging to convert, “DO better!!!” to, “Hey, you’re awesome, and you’re enough…and you’re also way smarter than a “B,” so slow down and do the job.”
I want him to understand that he is more than capable, and that it’s WORTH IT to slow down and to do it right…
But what does he hear???
It’s very difficult for me to stop, refocus my words, and to clarify both my intention and my love for him. I look at his little face when he’s turned in a “Bad” grade, and I know he’s beating himself up for it more than I ever could.
When we’ve had remote learning, he’s told me, “I don’t WANT to do the work with you!! You expect me to be PERFECT!!!!!!!”
It’s not true, but oh, how that hurt my heart to hear. I still want to cry when I think about it—have I failed him, in pushing him towards his potential? Or do I keep pressing in?
I’m not inclined to accept mediocrity when I know he has the ability to excel, but at what cost?
“You’re not here to be his friend,” I remind myself on an almost-daily basis. I love him too much to let him take the easy way out, even when it’s hard for me to stand my ground.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not Tiger-Momming it over here. I consistently tell him that I want to see that he’s TRIED. If he tries and he gets a “C,” I’m totally okay with that—but I want him to TRY. That’s what matters to me, more than letters. Speaking of “C,” last night, he brought home a “C” on a science test.
I about fell over….the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them” “What in the world?!? A C?!?!”
Cue the tears.
He cried, and he wailed, and he yelled, and he had a Total. Meltdown. David was working upstairs, and he came down to see what torture I had inflicted in the household, to warrant such a racket.
I hadn’t said a word, other than my initial shock. You see, the night before that test, Jericho had recited almost word-for-word, the entire Study Guide. He knew it all. When I went to bed the night before, I just knew he was going to kill that science test, and maintain his GPA (yes, we talk about it in the Second Grade). He knew all of this stuff, and for him to bring home a “C” was a genuine shock to me.
He cried his little eyes out while sitting on my lap. I shushed him, told him it was okay, and quietly said that I just wanted to unpack what happened (I never raised my voice, if you’re wondering). He kept yelling. It took a while to calm him down and to focus, but once he did, I told him this story:
“Your brain—sometimes, your brain is full of cats in paper sacks. It’s nearly impossible to get your thoughts wrangled together and to focus through to find what you need, right?
Jericho, think of your brain like your Backpack. Say you’re going to Grammy’s house, and you need socks. You throw them into your backpack, first thing…and they sink to the bottom, as everything does when you throw it into the backpack, first.
As the day goes on, more things go into the backpack: Shoes, pajamas, stuffed animals…everything goes into the backpack, on top of everything else….
But you need your socks….and they’re at the bottom of the backpack….So what do you do?”
“You dump the backpack out and you find them.”
“Exactly. So, you sort through everything to find what you need, right?
It’s the same thing for your Brain. Think of your Brain as your Backpack:
You see, you KNEW all of the answers to that science test. You had it! But things happened….maybe a video game, or a TV show. Maybe you put a puzzle together that you were excited about, or you had a really great recess. All of those were things that went into your Brain Backpack, on TOP of the science stuff you knew so well, the night before.
So when the science test started, you needed to take a few deep breaths, focus, and really concentrate on sorting through all of the “other” stuff in your Brain Backpack, and find the answers you knew in the bottom of the bag—THEN you can pull the answers out, and write everything down as you know it.”
I don’t know if this mental picture will help him on his next test, but I know that as parents, our responsibility to encourage him towards excellence while protecting his self-esteem is very important to me. I never want him to feel like HE is not enough, even when his efforts are lacking. I’m grateful that he’s first of all, in a classroom, and secondly, surrounded by educators who are on the same page as David & I are, in lovingly pushing him towards his potential while giving him space to learn. It’s a delicate, balance and one that I am very challenged by.
Parenting isn’t for the faint of heart, and it’s not for those who aren’t willing to look at tear-filled eyes and still stand their ground (in love). I’m not his friend; I love him so much more than that….and I’m so grateful for my spirited, smart, hilarious little mini. He’s a good kid.
This video by The Holderness Family basically sums up our lives right now, and I couldn’t agree more!!!!!!!!!
Side note—Since my last post, we got a dog! Say “hello” to Noodle the Mutt—she’s about 5 months old, and she & Jericho are still getting used to each other, so that comes with its own set of challenges. I never wanted a small dog, and David never wanted a rescue or a mutt….Noodle happily meets all three of those “nevers” and we couldn’t love her more.
“Nothing Breaks Like A Heart…AKA, “[Don’t] Take Another Little Piece of My Heart Now Baby”
Waaaaaay back when I was born, my mother was told that I had a slight heart murmur that I would most likely grow out of. I did.
In college, too much stress + bad food choices + lack of sleep + tooooooo much caffeine = Cardiac Arrhythmia, which eventually resolved. Everything was juuuuuust fine….
Until it wasn’t.
In 2006, I became pregnant with my first child. As a first-time mom, my complaints of, “Hey, I really can’t breathe too well,” and “Um, Doc? I can’t get enough breath support to sing,” were written off as new-mom, “well, what do you expect? You have a human pressing on your diaphragm,” rhetoric and explained away (I’m just a woman, Mr. Doctor. What do I know?).
2 months before I was due, I started seeing double, having migraines, and throwing up. Basic science diagnosed me with severe preeclampsia, and do you know what the “cure” for preeclampsia is? Delivery. So, my daughter was delivered 6 weeks early, and I was “gonna be just fine, ma’am,” said Mr. Third-Generation-I-Know-Everything OB-GYN….
Until it wasn’t.
2 days after I delivered, I couldn’t breathe…coughing and choking on top of a C-section incision is no fun. My sister ran for help, my mother prayed in tongues at the top of her lungs, and the nurses (who were in the middle of changing shifts, as of course, I have fantastic timing) & doctors realized I was in severe congestive heart failure. Over 20 pounds of fluid were drained out of my heart and lungs in the next 24 hours, and I went in for the fight of-and-for my life….while also trying to be a new mom to a premature infant.
Peripartum cardiomyopathy with congestive heart failure and pulmonary hypertension became the noose of a diagnosis that hung around my neck for the next 6 years as I went from specialist-to-specialist, trying to find a cardiologist that would both “fix” me, and would work with me as I wanted to try to have another child.
Once the heart has been blown up in CHF (my left ventricle was three times the size of the rest of my heart. I like to call it, “Grinch Syndrome.”), it tends to sort of hang around like a balloon that’s been overstretched. It’s kinda gross, if you think about it. My heart was literally broken in every possible way….by my body, by grief, by everything.
So, I had a few years of echocardiograms, medications, etc., until I found a doctor at Missouri Baptist that ordered more tests and found that my heart issues, outside of blood pressure, had miraculously resolved. I didn’t have any of the long-term problems they expected me to have, and we went on to have Jericho with the help of infectious disease specialists, cardiologists, perinatologists, and a whoooooole lotta grace from God….but it wasn’t without consequences.
As expected, even with a strict regiment of really miserable medications, I went into heart failure towards the end of my pregnancy with Jericho, and was rewarded with a lengthy hospital stay. After delivery, and after promising to never try to have any other children, I have a continued medication regiment that I’ve stayed on, and will be on for the rest of my life. I have my son; I have ZERO regrets.
The meds work great! Most of them are the same ones I’ve been on since 2006, with very few side effects, and with positive results. My CHF numbers stay low (the key number is the ejection fraction for the left ventricle. I’ve been under 10% before. My current numbers are around 40-50%, which is almost normal). My weight has been a challenge (particularly in the post-thyroid world), but has stayed in the same general area since my first pregnancy (give or take 40#. I gain, I lose, I gain, etc.), and my blood pressure stays under control with medication…it’s all working, which is crucial.
SO, why am I telling this story? Why does it matter? It matters, because YOU matter. 1 in 3 women in America are dealing with some sort of heart disease–that’s more than all other cancers, combined: https://www.goredforwomen.org/en/about-heart-disease-in-women
Per the Go Red for Women campaign, “80 percent of cardiac and stroke events may be prevented with education and action.” That’s what we can do. That’s what I can do–I can share my story, and maybe help others to become aware of the resources, the signs and symptoms, and the protocols that can help them understand heart disease more clearly. Knowing is the first step of prevention, right?
Today, my heart is functioning pretty darn well. In fact, I really don’t think about it very often, which is awesome when you consider that at one point, it was ALL I thought about…I couldn’t go up the stairs in my own home without feeling like I was going to pass out! I don’t have any limitations from cardiac issues, and I don’t worry about it…but I AM very conscious of it, and of paying attention to it when something seems “off.” I had some episodes last year of almost passing out. I wanted to ignore them, but I know better, so I called my cardiologist. Turns out, my blood pressure medication needed a simple adjustment….it was nothing complicated, and a simple phone call, and listening to my body, made all of the difference.
Take care of your heart, people. It really is the engine that drives you…and we all know that if the engine is broken, you’re not going anywhere. Love your heart….Live Fierce…and Go Red for Women!!!
Insomnia…
I know a lot—too many—people who really struggle with sleep. I’m one of them. For me, it’s a combination of general anxiety, stress, and chemical imbalances related to either diabetes or my thyroid issues (I don’t have a thyroid, if you’re not up-to-date. I take thyroid replacement hormones. That’s an uphill battle that’s an entirely different blog…I may write it someday, but as I’m still too frustrated with the process, I’ll spare you the details). I realize that some people are like, “YEAH, BRUH, I’LL SLEEP WHEN I’M DEAD, YO!!!!” That’s not me. I have issues with sleeping, and I’ve recently come into a few things that seem to be helping, so I’ll share:
- Everyone that I know is quick to say that prayer is the best way to get to sleep. This doesn’t always work with me, as I find myself on mental rabbit trails that are anything but peaceful. However, it’s worth a try, as God loves us and is always ready to hear us out. Also, I do find that I fall asleep faster when I’m intentionally trying to draw nearer to God in prayer, LOL—of course.
- Get off of the electronics. I struggle with wanting to reach for my phone when I’m trying to fall asleep, but YOU HAVE TO UNPLUG YOUR BRAIN. Some experts say that getting off of electronic devices at least 30 minutes before bed. I wish my alarm clock wasn’t ON my phone, but it is—maybe keeping it in a different room would help (but oh, the anxiety while getting used to it!!!).
- Storytime!!! I’ve recently discovered that even as an adult, I love storytime before bed. I read to my kiddo on the weekends, or we listen to an audiobook (Tim Curry’s narration of the Lemony Snicket books is AMAZING!!!!!! I just borrowed it from my library and had no idea Tim Curry would be the narrator. He’s perfect!); you can check these out from your library, or you can download them from the Libby, the Library App. I have always used Libby for my reading, but when I realized I could also use it for audiobooks, I was so excited!!! I very rarely purchase books or audiobooks anymore; however, I recently discovered a podcast called, “Nothing Much Happens,” by Kathryn Nicolai. When I realized she’d compiled a bunch of these stories into a book/audiobook (with no commercials—commercials will jerk me out of a solid sleep like nobody’s business), I redeemed all of my Google Play points and I got the audiobook. Her stories are simple, descriptive, and sooooooooooo dreamy, and her voice is like butter. I’ll set the timer to 30 minutes, and I’m out like a light!!!
- Music: Finding the perfect music for sleeping is DIFFICULT. For me, it can’t be piano, birds, or anything that’s high-pitched; I prefer delta-wave sounds or Deep Sleep Music. I don’t want any chanting or weird psychic new-agey stuff; I’ve been tempted by guided meditations, but spiritually, it just feels “EW,” so I stay away from that kind of thing. I also really like basic rain sounds.
- Not bothering your Significant Other: Waking up your spouse with your sleeping “stuff” defeats the purpose of a “peaceful sleep.” I found these nifty headphones that are an eyemask (this is an essential piece of my sleeping habits—now my son wears one, which is hilarious), and they Bluetooth to my phone (I found mine much cheaper on Mercari). This means that my audiobook and/or sleep music is set to a volume that I like, and the lights in the bedroom can stay on so that David doesn’t trip over anything when he comes to bed (he goes to bed at least an hour after I do, since he gets up 2 hours after I do). Sleep masks may help your body’s natural production of melatonin–more on that, below.
- Have a schedule. This is SUPER hard to do if your spouse isn’t supportive. Mine has figured out that I’m more of a nightmare without sleep than he can handle, so he’s been on-board with helping me get this figured out for a while. I have to have 8 hours of sleep each night. This may sound like a luxury to some people (I don’t understand you 5-hours-of-sleep/night people!), but it’s an absolute necessity for me, particularly since losing my thyroid. Sleep > Almost Everything Else. I literally can’t function without enough sleep, so I keep a pretty set schedule throughout the work week. I think this was easier when my son & I went to bed at the same time, but now that he’s going to bed later than I am, it’s more of a challenge for David (who is AWESOME). So, build a schedule, and make sure your spouse is on board with it and is understanding.
- Aromatherapy: I like lavender, geranium, etc. in my diffuser. Diffusers don’t have to be super-expensive, and essential oils don’t need to break your bank (I’ve linked my favorite EO company–it’s NOT an MLM, rest assured). You can also use roll-on oils on pulse points (I like the ones from Ruministics), or sleep blends for either direct use (make sure you don’t need a carrier oil) or for diffusing.
- Planning ahead: This goes with #6, and is very important in helping to unload your brain at bedtime. If you take just a few minutes to plan ahead, you can help your morning to go so much better, and avoid unnecessary stress at night. Common sense, right? It’s surprising how many people go to bed having done nothing to plan for the next day, and then wonder why their mornings are so dreaded (adding to the stress of going to sleep)! I have a few hacks that make this go easier for all of us, particularly as David gets Jericho ready for school in the morning, and I need to keep things as simple as possible to make their mornings work, too:
- I plan my work clothes out for the week on Sundays. I know this is really Type-A, but I don’t want to wake my husband up when I get up at 4am with a bunch of drawers and closet doors opening and closing. I need to get up and get out, so planning is a must.
- Stay organized. Sometimes, I change my mind from what I’ve planned for the week. My closet is very organized so that I know where things are, and I minimize the amount of time I spend searching.
- Lunch plans: I try to grab my pre-packaged stuff and take it to the office on Mondays (yogurt, oatmeal packets, etc). For Jericho, I use a Shoe Organizer in the laundry room, and I fill it in advance with a juice box, a snack, a dessert, chips, etc., so that each day all he needs is the fresh stuff—a sandwich, fruit/veggies, etc.) It cuts the amount of time to prep lunches in half.
- Clothes packets! For Jericho, I bundle a shirt and pants (or hoodie, t-shirt, and pants) together into his drawer. He grabs a packet, gets dressed, and life is EASY. I think everyone in the house sleeps better when they know they’re ready for the next day.
- Journaling: Some people swear by this. I can see how unloading your brain each night would be helpful….This does not work for me, because I can’t seem to get consistent at it. It’s a work in progress. Land of My Sojourn on Etsy makes BEAUTIFUL journals that just might help even me get consistent in journaling!
- Get Medical Help: If you have prolonged insomnia, get help. It could be anxiety; it could be hormonal. It could be psychiatric or a physical imbalance, or even a neurological disorder. It could be spiritual; it could be ALL of the above (which is what I run into). You can do all of the things that you can do on your own, but it’s not always enough. The stigma of taking medication for chemical/mental/hormonal issues has got to go—people die every day because they don’t take unseen illnesses more seriously. You’re worth it. You have a few options to think about:
- Melatonin: This is considered a “natural” solution to support sleep, and is available over the counter. I hear people talk about giving it to their kids all the time; please don’t do that without talking to their pediatrician, as it’s been linked to causing seizures in children (even those without a history of seizures). I’ve tried sublingual (under the tongue) melatonin and a melatonin capsule; someone recently told me you could do both, but that seems a bit extreme. Melatonin is a hormone that your brain produces in response to darkness (a sleep mask may help you more than you think!) and is meant to be taken as a short-term solution. I’ve probably been on it far too long. Synthetically produced supplements are cheaper than the naturally-produced ones; I’ve heard from many people in alternative healthcare that synthetic melatonin can cause crazy dreams and nightmares, so be careful! Synthetic supplements tend to be “all filler, no killer,” so if you have access to whole plant-based supplements, use them (check with your chiropractor, if you’re looking into it. Side-note: Chiropractic adjustments are a GODSEND for insomnia. Your spine houses your spinal cord, which is part of your nervous system. When your spine gets out of line, it has a huge impact on how your body switches from sympathetic to parasympathetic dominance. Do some research–it’s massively important to your overall mental function & ability to actually, physically RELAX. ).
- Medications: There’s a ton of them, and I’ve tried a few. Ambien and other medications like it are, in my experience, too dangerous to be on the market. I’ll have to tell you the story about Ambien shopping sometimes—we had a good laugh, but it was very scary in retrospect. I’ve learned that medical doctors will sometimes prescribe medications for insomnia without regard to the psychiatric side effects. I recently spoke to a psychiatrist about a medication that my MD had prescribed, and she said it was far too strong. Her recommendation was a much lighter, non-habit forming medication that is doing a tremendous job! If you don’t need to “bring out the big guns,” don’t do it. Ask your doctor to start you out with the smallest dosage of a non-habit forming medication.
- Sleep apnea: Sleep apnea is a HUGE issue that has a lot of preconceived notions. Nope—fat people aren’t the only ones who struggle with sleep apnea. I learned that it’s almost always a spouse that finally convinces a patient to get tested for sleep apnea or other sleeping issues. People with sleep apnea STOP breathing. I had a patient once who had a stroke in the middle of the night from untreated sleep apnea, and almost died; it was at that point that I basically forced my husband to get help. Shortly after David got a CPAP machine, I found out that the tumor in my throat had basically caused my windpipe to become deformed and my airway was limited. I had to get a CPAP, too, and boy-oh-boy, aren’t we attractive?!?! But you know what’s sexy? A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP, so I’ll take it. CPAP machines have come a long way, as have the masks that go with them. I wear a full-face mask; David wears one that only covers his nose. There are a TON of options to make you feel comfortable!!!! And being alive is always cool. 🙂 Sleep apnea is first determined by a sleep study, which is a pretty simple process that involves a few different methods of diagnostic testing. There’s a take-home sleep study that your doctor (PCP) or specialist (pulmonologist) can order; there’s also an in-office overnight sleep study they can order. It’s painless, and well worth it!
If you’re not sleeping at night, please consider some of the options I’ve listed. Sleep is so important! You and your family are worth you at your best, and we can’t be at our best if we can’t get some rest (hey, I’m a poet!). I’ve listed a few ideas that can help (NONE of these can be considered as medical advice, as I’m not a doctor and I’m not pretending to be one), and you may have read about even more (like, get a better mattress!!!). Take the time to figure out what’s blocking you from a good night’s sleep, and get a breakthrough!
Or, if you’re really tired, just re-read this blog. It’s long enough that it should knock you out in no time. 🙂
Sweet dreams, y’all….
