Friday, February 11, 2011

Sunlight - Day 3


I'm slowly learning to be patient with myself and the place that I'm at.

It still baffles me to find that gray skies can plunge me into a place of sadness, low energy, and gloom. It’s a bittersweet thing to know I’m not alone in this. I’ve been working to learn more about what’s going on with me and I’m taking steps to push back against it. I’m so grateful for the thoughts and prayers of friends and family. Still, some days are just rough.

Monday was one of those days this week, and I struggled to get even the most basic things accomplished. After hitting the snooze bottom a record number of times, I finally just burst into tears. I j wanted to scream at myself to get it together. I pushed through the morning, shuffled through the afternoon, and slumped into bed later that night feeling discouraged. I started seriously considering getting a prescription. The thought made me anxious and scared.

Please hear me on this: I do not believe that it is wrong to take medicine for depression or any disorder. If you are struggling, you need to do what will help you get better. I just have a history of adjusting poorly to anything – whether it’s my asthma inhaler or regular over-the-counter pain meds – so I’m trying everything else first.

Tuesday was beautiful and bright, so I spent lunch sitting in a makeshift window seat. I learned that just being in the sunlight can be therapeutic. The rays were so incredibly warm and full –indescribably so. I vaguely wished (again) to be somebody’s cat, so I could sit there all day being adorable and self-satisfied - the way I always view cats as being.  The rest of Tuesday was much better, but I was frustrated still. I hated feeling like I’m on a roller coaster, up one day and down the next.

Wednesday I read the first chapter of the book in the bible called James. In verse 17, James describes God as the “Father of heavenly lights.” For some reason, that description tugged at me, imploring me to explore it. What I found made me smile.

I keep a journal on a regular-ish basis, and much of the time I write directly to God. What I wrote went something like this:

God, I’m so glad You describe Yourself as the Father of lights. It seems to mean “Father of the sun, moon and stars.” James compares You to those beautiful lights, and shows how You are so much more than them in every way. There’s no change in You, no rising or setting, like the sun. Your light is so complete it cannot be eclipsed and so blazingly bright that there are no shadows left. Just like my body and brain craves sunlight to function and experience happiness, I need You to infinitely more to experience truth and deep satisfaction. Thank You for being bigger than the sun. Thank you for being constant when I am not.

God’s…fullness… isn’t changed by my inconsistency. I can rely on him to be my focus and security, even when I’m a mess. Especially then. I feel humbled by his love.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Between me and You...

I want to be his; but I want to be Yours more.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Just be yourself - Day 2

Today I learned something new about myself, and in doing so learned something deeper about my Creator-God.

Starting this blog has been deeply emotional for me. This morning alone I nearly deleted it at least three times. I felt insecure and afraid to write from what’s within me. But I feel that, for now, this is what I’m supposed to do. And I trust that I’ll stop when I’m supposed to stop.

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Today I learned to accept a part of me that I’d kept locked away for longer than I care to remember.
I am a deeply relational person. I get excited to listen to people and talk to them in a one-on-one setting. I love hearing people and learning about them – things that are important, things that make them happy and sad. But growing up, when I tried to be that person I was shut down, again and again. I was told in many times and ways that I was “heavy.” Family and friends said things like “pretty girls like you should be happy” and “hey, you’re cute and all, but you’re just so…”

 Boring. I was boring. Because to me, life wasn’t and isn’t about doing crazy things, it was and is about really hearing and seeing people. Don’t get me wrong, there are things I like to do and interests that I have, but none of those things really make me...sparkle...like a deep conversation with a close friend.
During high school and my first two years of college, I tried so hard to be the person I thought I should be. I tried to be the perky, bubbly, lighthearted girl that people wanted to hang out with. I went to parties, chatted about nothing with people that I’d probably never see again and tried to pretend that it was enough. It wasn’t. 

Inside, I was desperate for someone to see me. 
 
And some people finally did. I’m truly grateful for those few. Sadly, though, something had happened to me during that time. I could no longer accept myself for who I was. I felt oddly guilty and weird for wanting to have close, personal friendships. “What’s wrong with you?” I’d say to myself, “why can’t you be normal?” “You’re a freak and probably intensely codependent. Be strong like a real woman.”  Even when I let someone close, I’d shy away from deep conversations or make jokes when things got too serious, just so they’d “know” I wasn’t a freak. Just so I’d know I wasn’t a freak.

But I slowly learned to open up to people. I grew and changed, and found people who I could really connect with. And today, I realized something that blew my mind.

I was in the bathroom (where most good ideas happen) and a thought hit me like the most beautiful ton of bricks ever. 

In the same way that I long to be close to people, God longs to be close to people.

Wow. 

I have a wonderful God who sent his son Jesus to pay a price we never could. The bible says that our sins separate us from God. Jesus bridged that gap so that I could be close to God. God did a heartbreaking thing for something he found worthwhile and beautiful. A close, personal, living friendship with us.
When I build deep, meaningful friendships I am being like God. Not like a freak. Not heavy.  Not like any of the ugly and harsh things that I was told - and told myself. 

Beautifully and wonderfully me.


“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous – how well I know it. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”

                                                                                                                                       Psalm 139: 13-14,16 NLT 

I’ve read these verses many times before, but it’s never spoken to me like this. God knows every detail about me including the delicate, inner parts of me. Today when I read this verse, my thoughts went directly to my brain, and all what happens within it. I’m glad to be complex. He knows how I struggle with dark thoughts and gray skies. And he thinks I’m marvelous.

I happen to agree.

So in response I want to get to know him too. That’s why I read my bible. That’s why I pray. Not out of feeling like I should, or because my parents taught me to, but because it’s how I can learn about the God who wants to know me, and already does. True friendship is never one-sided.



So what do you think? How do you view friendship?

Where are you from?

"Where I'm From" poems are simple, beautiful, and as unique as snowflakes.

I wrote the one posted in the right column of this page. Writing them is always an interesting experience, because I think of so many things that were a part of my childhood. I've written more than one, and the really great thing is they're always different and I learn something new every time.

If you'd like to write one, you can find the template here. If you aren't sure where to start, check out the one written by the founder of this style of poem, George Ella Lyon. There's even a place to listen to her read it aloud which I strongly encourage you to do. Poetry is mean to be voiced!

If you write one and don't mind sharing it, I'd like to read it. You can e-mail it to me....at least I think there's a way to do that.

-Apple

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Today

Today I discovered that I'm stronger than I thought.

-Apple

Journal into the dark - Day 1

Things are dark again. I've been fighting it, but this is more than just a bad mood. It's painful, it's tough, but I will beat it. I’m struggling right now to put thoughts into words. I want to tell a story, my story. And I want someone to read it, although I’m not 100% sure why.

I’ve been struggling with depression for a while now.

That sentence is linked to shame within me. Even looking at it now, I want to backspace over it as quickly as possible. Why? Maybe it’s because until recently it was viewed a taboo thing. Something families dealt with in secret. Then people started speaking out, and educating others about. I’m so grateful to people who told their stories before it was deemed okay. Unfortunately, it’s a double-edged blade. Now, depression is overexposed. Everyone talks about being depressed, like it’s merely an emotion. People say things like “cheer up” and joke about happy pills. Others still think it’s a choice, and those of us that struggle with it are apathetic, melodramatic, or self-absorbed.

It’s not true. It’s not that easy. It’s not easy at all. I’ve had days where getting out of bed took all the courage I had. I’ve had days where answering my phone was too much for the strength I had inside of me. I’ve had days full of contradictions. Afraid to live, afraid to die. Afraid of people, yet terrified of being alone. Wanting to get close to someone while fighting the urge to run away.

I want to tell my story. I would like to think that by doing so it will help. Someone. Even if it’s just one person who’s still looking for the words to tell their own story, I’d feel it was worth something.

So here’s my story. I won’t apologize for it. You may disagree with it, but you can’t re-write it.

There is darkness and there is pain. It is bound in our very bones. I believe that it has purpose, just as cloudy days and winter have their purposes. I find that it is almost impossible to begin to understand its purpose, without understanding ours. We were made to thrive in the shade of our Creator. We were made to do what we were purposed to do. We were born to childhood; to a powerful relationship with a wild, imaginative, wonderful, mighty-beyond-our-comprehension Father-God. He is Life, and death couldn’t beat him.

I know that you may choose to stop reading because of that paragraph, but I can’t tell only part of my story. My relationship with Jesus is inextricably bound to any and every story that I tell. I hope that no matter what you believe about the world that you can still walk beside me on this journey.

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I am writing this story from the middle. How much more comfortable it would be for me to start elsewhere: at the beginning, or the end. But life is not as tidy as I wish it were, and rarely does the story begin at the beginning of a journey. I believe this is because we are shortsighted if not completely blind to the story that we are the main character of. Everyone has one, but by the time they realize it, it’s too late to start at the beginning.

The problem with stories that start in the middle is that they cannot prove their veracity. Those people writing from the end can say “See, I’ve made it. I’m full. I’m complete.” Those at the beginning have advantage as well – they don’t ask you to believe, only experience with them. I don’t know what to ask you to do. I cannot claim that what I write is truth, only that it contains truth. I will not ask you not to judge because that is impossible. I simply want the chance to be as honest as I can and hope that you too, will grow to be more honest. All I can do is say what I’ve seen; it is up to you to hear it and discern whether or not it is true.

-Apple