life

Joy in the Workplace: “All the Feels” Sidequest

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

My friends have gotten used to my “ADHD Sidequests.” I’ll start on one topic & much like a rubber band, I’ll eventually snap back to where I started, but the conversation is going to flex into a lot of different shapes as it goes on. 🙂 Consider this an #ADHDSidequest for my series on “All the Feels.” 🙂

That being said, I’ve learned the freedom I have in working for a faith-based company! My previous foray into academia confined my worldview & ultimately left me unable to share my faith; in this institution, it’s literally on the walls of the building. 🙂 Each meeting starts with a “reflection,” & my Director is bold enough to share genuine moments of success & struggle in her journey. I can’t tell you how much joy that gives me…it’s so much breath into my heart after being so stifled!!

I’ve been allowed to lead a reflection two times now, & for today, I decided to spin my Bible study notes into a workplace application. It was personally helpful, because I’ve really struggled lately with not only my transition to being fully remote, but also with my anxiety related to a huge project that is taking me far longer than I felt it should. It’s had me second-guessing my value as an employee & my talents in this field; it has been mentally & spiritually challenging.

I work with seasoned, brilliant people & I feel terrifically inadequate; my manager is doing her best to encourage me, & I’m grateful for her patience…but even with that, I get in my own head & pick things apart…and then they crumble. So, putting these notes together helped me, & I hope they helped my team, too.

I’ll put the presentation & the links mentioned after the screenshots. I hope you find ways to Choose Joy in the Workplace today!

Here’s a recording! I’m learning new things!

Works Cited/Resources:

Cartoon of Joy taken from Disney’s Inside Out

Cartoon of my beloved Snorlax taken from Pokémon archives

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6vPHZQYxPQ&t=99s   Paraphrased from Michael Wiggins DBA FACHE, School of Health Professionals at Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center Lubbock,  9/11/2026

Infographic taken from https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/why-connecting-your-co-workers-workplace-matters-techdoquest/

Resource:  https://www.oakpark.com/2015/09/15/learning-to-live-inside-out/

Lyrics & notes on Leonard Cohen: https://onbeing.org/blog/leonard-cohen-champion-of-our-cracked-imperfections/ 

Scripture references taken from YouVersion app

“All the Feels: The Facets of Feelings Thru the Facts of Faith” Week 1: The Introduction

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

For the first time in a while, I decided to brush off my keyboard and not only teach a Bible study, but yep–I’m gonna blog about it. This week started an 8-week Bible study at church that I’ve titled, “All the Feels: The Facets of Feelings Thru the Facts of Faith.” We’re going to take a look at key feelings and emotions; see who we know in the Bible that showed those feelings; learn how God mirrors those feelings or works in people with those feelings; and discuss how we move passed the point where feelings impact our relationship with God. It’s a long title and a big concept, and I’m quite sure I’m only going to scratch the surface in this semester, but here we go!

So, why look at feelings, anyways? Aren’t they just temporary? I mean, someone once told me to “never trust a feeling or a fart,” and as redneck as that statement is, it’s true (I can’t even tell you how I fell apart when they said that–that saying lives rent-free in my head!!!). Although I couldn’t make myself say it out loud in Wednesday night’s class (I do have SOME boundaries), it makes me laugh & it lightens the heaviness that this topic can evoke. Our feelings can get so dark that we forget they are TEMPORARY…but the decisions we make in those moments can be permanent, so we need to make sure to keep them in perspective.

Inside Out was revolutionary to me when it premiered; it was so pivotal that this entire 8 week session is based around it. Kids often have little self-discipline in expressing emotions; I found myself taking a deep breath when my son would blow up as a toddler, because how frustrating it must be, to have BIG feelings in SMALL bodies?!? So much emotion, but so little ways of expressing!! As he’s gotten older, I often say to him, “Dude, your REACTIONS are NOT matching the ACTION.” His response to something that isn’t to his liking is frequently way more intense than the situation called for. Getting him to pause, take a breath, and PROCESS something before reacting is a skill that society is in short supply of these days.

Riley’s progression through Inside Out 1 and 2 shows in an almost-tangible way, how our brains go through the process of emotion–>feeling–>mental state, and I love that they used the same characters when looking into the parents’ minds, too. Riley’s beautiful mind shows us Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust; as she hits those formidable pre-teen years, we get Embarrassment, Anxiety, Ennui (Boredom), and Envy added to the party. In the first movie, Sadness tries to take the lead from Joy; in the second movie, it’s Anxiety that tries to run the show (& oh, did I find that relatable?!?). At times, as the emotions try to jockey for position the brain/internal monologue is more of a mosh pit than a logical processing, but isn’t that like life?!? So many emotions, so little time to process…and therein lies the problem many of us face.

But this is an introduction to this series…so let’s strip it back to some basics: Emotions and Feelings…they are NOT the same, according to people much, much smarter than I am. EMOTIONS are the quick reactions that we have. They’re the burst, the flash, the sweat we break out into, the quickening heartbeat, the dilated pupil. A FEELING, however, is something that can linger for days. It envelopes you and you’re conscious of it. Feelings are what happens as we PROCESS emotion….they’re what we MAKE of emotions.

And that’s the key–that’s something I want to really hit on in this introduction. Processing emotions is a necessary discipline we need to take the time to do. The Complete Beginner’s Guide to Emotional Processing by David Caren gives some high-level explanations with some practical advice on how to unpack your day & truly think about how you reacted and felt throughout the day. This leads to a lighter morning, and a better ability (in my opinion) to truly turn things over to God instead of marinating in bad feelings and anxiety thru the night. Processing emotions is something that I actually don’t think we’re fully capable of doing without the Holy Spirit, simply because our abilities to redirect negatives into positives are like, non-existent in this crazy world that lives for the drama. You might disagree with that, and that’s okay–for me, however, it literally takes a major spiritual shift to redirect me because of how my brain is wired. It’s all tied together for all of us, but for some of us, those ties look more like rabid spaghetti. #Squirrel

Neurodivergent individuals are going to process emotions and a lot of other things differently, & I’m not going to get into that too terribly much at this point; however, because neurodivergents/neurospicy people like Yours Truly tend to overreact and spiral when emotions/feelings get overwhelming or out of balance, I’m going to drop this resource in because it’s a good one. We. Are. Not. The Same. as typicals–we feel very, very deeply & we usually can’t just “let it roll” as my parents begged me to do. We’re extrasensitive in many ways, and for me, this really affects how I handle perceived rejections. This is a known problem that has led me to some very dark mental battles/spiritual battles, & I’m very, very grateful for the resources & people God has put in my corner that have pulled me out!!

Emotional processing is NOT the same as Ruminating Thoughts. Ruminating (it’s the same word that’s used when a cow chews their cud–we do the same thing, chewing & chewing on our thoughts and feelings, not able to break the cycle & frequently, devolving into a “death spiral” of dangerous thoughts. Ruminating Thoughts are a frequent struggle for neurodivergents, but I know we’re not alone in that. Emotional Processing (check the link) is a beneficial method of reviewing–>accepting–>moving forward, while Ruminating means you’re literally stuck and choking on it. Jesus gives us freedom from choking on anxiety & ruminating thoughts! That’s the coolest thing EVER!!!!!!!

We do not have to get stuck in the spiral of dark thoughts or the chaos of an imbalanced mind. First of all, we are 100% made in the image of God. Yes, we live in a broken world full of messed-up genetics, chemical warfare, and Lord-knows what else…but being made in His image means so many things…

There are at least 38 verses in Scripture that talk about how we’re made in His image and what that means for us. I want to not only focus this first lesson on the benefits of emotional processing; I also want to base the rest of these classes on the fact that He made us, & there is No One Better to understand our emotions and feelings, as we are reflections of Him. Secondly, like the book of Ecclesiastes says in 1:9, “there is nothing new under the sun.” There is nothing we can tell Him that He hasn’t heard before.

There isn’t a feeling or emotion that’s too big or too small, that He doesn’t care about it or want to know you’re feeling it. There’s nothing you can tell Him, that will make Him not love you. And there is NOTHING you can say to Him that will shock Him or cause Him to turn up His nose in arrogance or disappointment. Jesus loves you…emotional mess, oversized feelings, and all.

Transparency is critical with God–I mean, He sees it anyways, so why do we think we can hide from Him?? He deserves our honesty even when it’s not pretty. In the year after my daughter passed away, I had the gift of transparency in the church we were attending. They gave me the grace to grieve my loss, letting me weep openly during service (especially during that first Mother’s Day), checking in on David & I, and not once telling us to “move on.” Their hearts were broken with us, & they carried us as we mourned.

They didn’t see the anger, though. I kept that from everyone….the miles driven while punching my steering wheel, the times I’d come home hoarse because I’d screamed at God the entire drive home, the unadulterated rage against the universe, against the questions, against my own body and mind…anger that took longer than the grief, to cool. Anger that meant I couldn’t say, “God is good” for over a year, or lift my voice in worship. Raw, ugly, broken anger that took me to another level of honestly with God….to a place where all that was left was me, screaming in an imaginary desert, until all I could do was whisper & ultimately realize that my theology was decimated.

Some people deconstruct.

I went nuclear.

And when everything was demolished, I realized two things: He never left. And I had never truly believed that He loved me.

It was at that point where I found out I’d only had what I’d been told in my heart…my faith had been what I learned from everyone else, what I was told was real, what I THOUGHT I believed…but those thoughts didn’t hold water when death came, & all of the platitudes of faith were just that. The verses were real, but they were words on a page.

I was a Christian–I believed Jesus was my Savior…but I didn’t know Him. And I hadn’t let Him truly know me….I’d played the part.

Getting real with God…getting absolutely bare, because I had nothing left to hide behind…meant that He became even more real to me. My transparency–my desperate, messy, naked transparency–didn’t make Him angry. He recognized me when I didn’t even recognize myself. I didn’t even realize I’d been lying to myself for decades.

Something about devastation means we get an opportunity for a divine reset…if we choose to take it. I learned in that space over 20 years ago, that Jesus loved me at my absolute most broken, most devastated, & most confused, and He met me with Love.

He met me with the Truth of Who He Is….and He showed me that He made me the way I am. Why should I be ashamed that I feel deeply, that I have Big Feelings, when He put that in me? Why should YOU? He made us in His image, to be clean and clear before Him with truth and transparency….and no one can handle us better than the One Who created us.

He accepts us, loves us, and redirects us to process our feelings & emotions instead of spiraling out in them….if we just bring them to Him.

Psalms 139:1-4 says, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue, you, Lord, know it completely.“

We have absolutely nothing to lose by giving God our transparency, & we have everything to gain…including peace in the emotional processing of life. With so many emotions to deal with–man, I kinda wish we only had the ones Riley struggles with–it’s so incredible to know that no matter how we feel, we are LOVED by a God Who longs to see us as who we are…as He created us…to have emotional stability and a state of peace that lasts so much longer than a fleeting feeling!

Transparency with God is a huge tool in defeating the plots Satan makes against us. There’s nothing that defeats deception like transparency…Transparency gives us deep roots in the storms of life, and shines through the layers of lies we are surrounded by. When it becomes our habit, it fuels our faith because we KNOW that we know, He is with us, He is REAL, and He LOVES us as we are, to becoming Who He sees us as.

May you have the time this week to lay out your emotions and feelings before the Lord and seek His response to the best way to process, accept, and work through…may your feelings for others reflect His…and may you always know He loves you so much more than you could ever realize. 🙂 More later…

*Not written with any AI…although it would probably help me be more concise….whatever. 🙂

A Virtual Christmas Card…..

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

Remember when sending Christmas cards with a beautifully-stated letter of life update was like, THE thing to do?

Man, I remember….because I stopped doing it last year.

Last year, just before Thanksgiving we lost my brother-in-law; two days before Christmas, I lost my biological father, & to my surprise, mourned him much more heavily than I ever thought I would (I basically had a total breakdown & threw a screaming tantrum in the front yard for the neighbors to enjoy while my husband considered locking me up & my sister literally kept me vertical). Other family issues curtailed into the losses, & I’d say it was 6 months or more before we got our feet back under us.

Coming out of the last Christmas season was a journey, but we also picked up some “new” traditions that I think we’re continuing with (minus the front-yard public meltdown). In spite of the reallllllllly rough start to 2025, we had some really cool things happen that are worth mentioning:

  1. For the second year in a row, Jericho took the top score in his class for the SAT. He says he doesn’t think he can go for the free-throw for 2026, but we shall see….I literally jumped out of my office chair and yelled when I got the news. You would have thought he’d won an Oscar!
  2. David found a job that truly recognizes his unique skill set and personality. We went to their corporate Christmas party last week, & my heart figuratively burst when his co-workers and his boss told me how much they loved him & that he was “one of” them. I was also a tad frightened, but hey, it’s really great to hear that he’s building a tribe!
  3. Speaking of a “tribe,” we’ve jumped back into church membership after a lengthy time of separation. I’ve turned in my paperwork & David’s working on his…it’s so good to know we’re building a community of like-minded people that can be a home again.
  4. I started a job in January back in healthcare. I mentioned today to a newer co-worker that you’d never know it now, but it took me my first 6 months to find myself as an employee again after my trauma from my previous “manager.” The inconsistencies, gaslighting, lack of support, bitterness & targeting, did a ton of damage & I hadn’t realized how deep the hurt went. Therapy & prayer made a huge impact; trusting God in my place of employment has always been a struggle, & although I knew He led me to where I am, I was in constant fear that I was dropping the ball. I finally let that go, warmed up to my current boss, & realized I had something to bring to the table. The change has been wonderful, & I am glad I moved to the company I’m at! Good things are on the horizon, & I am excited to see how God continues to work. I still struggle with forgiveness–the same “manager” continues to target people at the previous workplace & every time her name comes up, I realize I have more to lay down. It’s hard when you see your friends get treated poorly, to forgive and to let go. The Italian upbringing (which I’m very thankful for, Dad!) leans towards vengeance, but biblically, that’s not my job, so I have to again, trust that God is handling things. Challenging, for sure! Especially when I’m SO CREATIVE…..
  5. We “celebrated” our 20th anniversary in May, along with David’s 50th birthday in January. I say, “celebrated” because honestly, it wasn’t what I wanted it to be. I was going through some medical drama in late April/early May, & I was pretty much on the verge of another front-yard meltdown due to changes in medications & all of the family stresses. I really fell into a funk & had to do some intensive therapy to pull through it. Man, The Tribe came THRU. From sitting with me while I cried, to sending a pick-me-up card and praying with me, to meeting with friends via Marco Polo; I really leaned on my sister & my friends to get me thru it all and to figure out how to effectively communicate with my husband without getting so emotional that it sent HIM into a spiral. He was struggling enough!!! My son was in the thick of it with us, & although I’m sad that he went through it with us as a family, I’m actually glad that he got to see the process of what medications can do, what they can’t do, what therapy and prayer can do, and that there can be a sunny side to all sorts of trauma and disorders. He got to see all of those things in action, combined with the support of my sister & my friends, and how his dad had his own struggles, successes, and choices in the process. It was a real-life lesson in action, & we’re still talking thru parts of it.
  6. Noodle the Hot Mess Mutt continues to be well, a Hot Mess. We love her; she’s still indecisive with how she feels about us (unless we have food or a warm blanket, in which case we’re her favorite…but should we try to move her from said blanket, then we’re The Devil and she will attack, so there’s that). She hasn’t had any major issues or injuries this year, which, given her tendency to eat any-&-everything, is borderline miraculous.

And that’s basically it–we’re celebrating David’s current job as well as mine, celebrating Jericho for basically being a future-lawyer-genius & overall nice kid; celebrating Noodle for not dying; and most of all, celebrating the grace & love of Jesus, Who, for reasons not yet understood, continues to call us His own. His love is so above my level of comprehension, so defiant of what the culture expects or knows, that when I really try to think about it I can’t help but to sit in absolute silence. I have nothing of wisdom or value to say–He loves in a way I can’t reciprocate or appreciate, in a way I don’t deserve or even begin to grasp. When we sing that it’s a “Reckless Love,” my husband shared with me recently a breakdown of what that phrase means to him, & I had to tell him to stop talking because I’d just done my makeup & I knew I was about to bawl. 🙂 He. Loves. Us. Who would do that? The best of us is unlovable by any standard–we are arrogant, messy, clueless, weak, and weird. We are, as one of my favorite authors says, “ragamuffins,” but that’s who the King of Kings came for. He became ONE OF US in order to REDEEM us with His death & resurrection, and that’s really what we celebrate this Christmas.

Sure, the time of the year is all wrong, and we’d do better, honestly, to celebrate other Hebraic feasts that God calls us to, over the hybridized Christmas that’s December 25th–that’s something I internally am debating–but the fact remains that at this particular time of the year, globally, we recognize the birth of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. We celebrate the coming of the King, the beginning of our Redemption, and the event that is so huge, our entire Eastern calendar is measured before-&-after its happening. The birth of our Savior is PIVOTAL for the physical and the spiritual, foretold in the very stars for generations before. He’s my Savior, keeping me not only from hell, but from the very worst of myself (which I encountered this year in the aforementioned front-yard meltdown and believe me when I say this, I AM SAVED FROM BEING THAT PERSON. She’s scary). He’s saved me from being separated from His incredible love…He gave everything for me, and for you, too.

So, when you look around & you think about all of the “things” that go into celebrating the holidays, remember to set it aside periodically to, as they say corporately, “focus on the WHY.” Get quiet. Put down the dustrag & baking pans; leave your wallet at home. Alanis Morissette once asked, “why are you so petrified of silence?” Aren’t we?!?!? But there is so much BEAUTY in getting silent…in focusing on that Still, Sometimes-Small Voice…in simply giving thanks from your heart instead of just from your mouth. My pastor, Brian Kitchen, sends out a daily devotional based on the previous Sunday’s sermons; with a reference of Luke 1:22, in today’s devotional he said, “Your quiet seasons are not empty seasons. God is shaping you while the promise is developing. Even when you feel muted, the miracle is moving toward its moment.“

My biggest prayer for you & I right now in this season is that if we’re not in a “quiet” season, that we will find the time/make the time to get quiet. If we’re in a season in which God seems quiet, my prayer for you & I is that we would see how He is moving in the stillness, and that our faith would grow in the waiting. There are no empty moments in our walk with God…just moments of our own static that would distract us from His intended impacts.

May this Christmas find you in times of stillness…in times of quiet gratitude, may you reflect on the birth of your Savior; of His love for you & of how freely He laid down His life not with the kind of irresponsibility we relate to our definition of “recklessness,” but with the kind of deep, incomprehensible Love that knew there was no other way to bridge our separation, & to bring us together for eternity…

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year, to you all….celebrate!

Love, The Cooley Family: Jericho, Noodle, David, and Cassidy, November, 2025

19 years…

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

Happy birthday, Baby…

19 years is a long time; almost 2 decades.

Many people know your story…many people don’t…and part of life is learning who is safe to share these things with (and who isn’t). I’m more exclusive with who gets to hear about you, because that’s a privilege.

I looked at your dad last night & said, “Someday, it won’t hurt anymore….”

I don’t know if he heard me, but I keep thinking about that statement. I feel like it was more of God saying it to me than it was me saying it to your father.

Your brother asked about you the other day. He said he asked God if you were in Heaven when he was praying one night, & his History teacher inadvertently answered his question the next day. You’d be so proud of him—he’s so funny. He spoke his thoughts on the subject, & I shared mine. He also told me he didn’t think there were dogs in Heaven. Ma’am, I corrected him properly, because I KNOW you are playing with Holly “up” there!!!!

I shared that a day in God’s presence is as a thousand years on earth, & we’ve only been apart for 19 years. What is that for you? It aches for me, but you? You’re with Him.

I was speaking to a friend this morning & I mentioned that statement from last night along with, “We will be with so many people we miss…your mom, my grandma, etc. You know what we won’t be doing? We won’t be MISSING people…

Baby girl, I won’t miss missing you.

My heart explodes with that thought. What will it be like, to not have this missing piece in my heart anymore? To be whole, to be with you?

I honestly can’t imagine, but it absolutely brings such joy to my soul…I can’t help but to think how beautiful is the love of Jesus, to give us the gift of not only being in His presence & of being in & with His family, but the Gift of Reunion with each other! He gives us the gift of a completed puzzle, a completely restored wholeness without spot, wrinkle, crack, or break!

He gives us wholeness & He holds us…I’m so grateful.

Hannah-girl, I pass by the place you died every day now & in this season, I feel the ache. I also feel the longing & the hope for that reunion, & I’m encouraged to stay the course. Fall leaves point me towards grace that never ceases to pull the pieces back together until we see each other again & I am thankful for those that laid the foundation of faith I stand on…fall on…desperately cling to…

“I’ll run as fast as I can into Your arms
‘Cause I was created to be where You are”

Happy 19th Birthday, Hannah Elizabeth Gayle Cooley…Your dad, your brother & I love you ferociously. You’re never far from my heart or mind, & I’m so thankful you are part of tapestry God is weaving in my life…

“Where’d You Go?!” AKA, “The Case of the Missing Body”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

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…

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

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.”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

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.

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

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…

“Nothing Breaks Like A Heart…AKA, “[Don’t] Take Another Little Piece of My Heart Now Baby”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

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.

Image result for grinch's small heart grew

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!!!

Overflow…

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

After losing my Uncle Charlie last week, my Aunt Bonnie passed away this week. I wasn’t “close” to either of them, but they were still people in my circle, and still people that I knew and laughed with at family functions. I’m not going to be falsely dramatic and say that I’m devastated, etc., because it’s not true; however, any time you lose someone in your circle….someone you’re connected to, in any way…there’s a sadness and a sense of loss. Both my aunt and my uncle were on different sides of my family (my maternal uncle, and my biologically-paternal aunt). They both had wicked senses of humor (I still remember my Uncle Charlie making fun of my parents’ Christian bumper stickers on the “church van” one Christmas, LOL), and my Aunt Bonnie had a laugh you could hear 3 houses down. I think we may have had that in common. Family relationships can be complicated and tangled, and hard to explain–but they’re still family, regardless of whether you see them every few years, or every day.

My family, like many others (but few that I know of, directly) contains adopted family members, step-family members, biological family members, and a few people that we aren’t technically related to, but may as well be. We’re a mid-western melting pot. I remember being so sad about it when I was a kid; everyone in my tiny school had one mom, and one dad, and 2 sets of grandparents, and “normal.” What the heck is “normal,” now? I was sad because I was 7 or 8, and I didn’t understand what a blessing it was, to have so much variety in the definition of that word: “Family.”

“Family” means a lot of different things (and it sure as heck isn’t defined by blood, because that doesn’t BEGIN to make sense in many families). For me, it’s primarily that nuclear group that’s “in my bubble,” thanks to COVID: Mom, Dad, Sister, Husband, Son, Extra Parents. My in-laws, whom I haven’t seen since March because of COVID, are in that group, and I miss them. I miss all of them.

I think that missing friends and family magnifies any loss, even when you’re not that close to someone. This crazy COVID world has us all on edge, all isolated and spread apart, and all feeling the tinges of loneliness (for some, it’s much more than “tinges”). I had a moment yesterday where I was almost in tears, because I miss my friends; I miss spending my Friday afternoons having lunch with friends, getting things off of my chest and/or listening to them do the same.

I miss planning play dates with my kiddo (WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO OVER CHRISTMAS BREAK?!?!?!?!?!). I miss calling someone and saying, “Hey, can we come over?” (Let’s be truthful–I almost never call anyone and say, “hey, come over to my house!!” because I have no parking and I feel self-conscious about the mess of having 3 people crammed into a very small space. But if I COULD call someone and say, “Hey, wanna come over?” I’M AT THE POINT WHERE I WOULD.).

So, this is a short blog (for me). I’m sort of “in the mullygrubs,” as we say (but not at the point where I’m sobbing into my morning coffee. Maybe this blog is a way to get it out of my system before I get that far?). I know of a few people that are really struggling in this season–from loss, from the election issues, from winter blahs, whatever. This tends to be a season where many have a hard time finding their joy in a “normal year,” but this year? There are some dark struggles happening, and the spiritual/mental battles being waged are MAJOR. We’re a world in need of Hope, more than ever.

Writing is one of the ways that I refocus, and that’s what I’m doing here. Yes, you’re basically reading my personal therapy session and I have little-to-no concerns about oversharing–but you probably know that by now! 🙂 I choose Hope…I choose Joy. It doesn’t mean I’m not sad; it just means that I’m leaning on Jesus and pushing through….like a lot of people.

Please pray for Connie, Tammy, Travis, Tiffany, Alvin, Sabrina, Richard, Dena, & their families; they’re missing someone they loved so much, so close to Christmas. There are a lot of families really hurting right now, and all any of us can do, is pray. Don’t forget to reach out to your friends and family right now; stay safe, but stay sensitive to those nudges from the Holy Spirit to not forget those that need to hear kindness and concern right now.

We’re gonna get thru this year, people. We’re allllllllmost there…. 🙂