Category: Mental Health

Finding healing and help

Please park…

WARNING: ‼️

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I received and email recently that sent my anxiety way higher than it should have.

The email went something like this..

“If you are able please park in the overflow parking to allow room for our guests.”

The email truly could not have been any nicer. The problem in my mind was two fold:

1.) the overflow parking is a couple blocks away

2.) the words “if you are able”

How exactly does one decide if they are able?

This was the conundrum in my brain.

At this very moment. I may be. However, in a few moments, I may not be.

And this my friends, is what my new disability has caused.

If you’re being 100% honest with yourself, have you ever seen someone park in a handicap spot, get out and seemingly look completely….fine?

I have.

I have judged.

100%

Hence my conundrum.

What if…I’m not able?

What if…my bag explodes and I need to make a quick escape?

What if…I get sick and can’t walk to my vehicle?

What if….

What if…I appear able but I’m really not?

I made the decision.

The anxiety wasn’t worth the walk. I am not able.

I wanted to be able. But this is not my reality.

Disability doesn’t always equal visibility.

Exhibit A

My apologies if this picture is disgusting. This is the shirt I was wearing under my sweater to the event I was serving at…with the email.

About half way through said event, I began to be sick. I’ll spare you the details, however I did indeed need to make the quick exit due to unforeseen circumstances.

I prayed and prayed the entire drive home, with the windows down as I was heaving and trying to be safe.

I don’t have the ability to vomit and we all know I don’t have a colon. So what happens?

Exhibit A happens.

Did anyone notice 💩 flying out of my abdomen at the event?

I have no idea.

What do I know?

If I can, in whatever way I can, help just one person reframe what ability is and isn’t. I’m here for it.

I use to be that person. The one who use to judge. God forgive me.

If you’ve journeyed with me, you know He is in the business of growing me.

May we all remember disability doesn’t necessarily mean visibility.

Invisible disabilities DO exist.

Some days mine gets the better of me. Praise God, He is sanctifying me.

I also thank God for my cute cockapoo who stays by my side through all my sicknesses.

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Decompress December

A week ago I was talking to a friend who declared December to be “Declutter December.” I so loved that for her!

Her declaration got me thinking, “What do I want December to be for me?” If you read my last post, you know that 2025 has been HARD. As I laid on my couch talking to the Lord, He gave it to me, Decompress December.

As a therapist, I spend a lot of time listening to sacred stories. All of our stories are sacred because the Father is writing them.

Some of our stories hold sorrows. Sorrows and pain get stored in our bodies. As a trauma informed therapist, I have become even more aware of how God created our bodies so miraculously.

You may have heard the phrase, “I’ve been triggered” before. I prefer the word “activated.” Why? Because when you feel “triggered,” your body is actually responding the exact way that God designed it to react. Your amygdala is being “activated” to keep you safe.

Again, why? Your body remembers that at some point in your life, that feeling, that sound, that smell…wasn’t…safe.

I’ll stop there. I could PREACH (or geek) on this for a while.

So when my friend made her declaration, I also knew that I needed to make mine.

My body has held the weight for awhile. It has been remembering the hard.

God has been asking me to decompress.

Do the things that bring you joy tiny house girl.

Release the stress and decompress.

December is hard enough with ALLLLL the things. Why do we need to make it any harder for ourselves?

What brings you joy?

What do you need to let go of in order to decompress?

Release the stress and decompress.

You. Are. Worth. It.

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And here we are…

It’s the eve of December, the last month of the year.

I had the opportunity to sit around the Thanksgiving table with 42 relatives and 3 new friends this past Thursday. Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday. Multiple reasons solicit this answer, but mainly the opportunity to gather, reflect, eat lots of my favorite food and of course stretchy pants.

At the end of each year, I ask God for a word for the next year. The word He gave me for 2025 was “hard.” I asked Him for another word.

MULTIPLE TIMES

Each time, His answer was the same…

Your word is HARD.

I think we all can attest we like fluffy words or words that inspire. Not worlds like HARD.

I walked into 2025 bracing myself for what was to come. Without the ability to see into the future, I stepped in faith knowing that God had more of my sanctification in mind.

2025 has been HARD.

Relationship difficulties, two job changes, health challenges, major surgery and a host of other personal obstacles.

This Thanksgiving as I ate an ENTIRE plate of scrumptious offerings, it wasn’t lost on me that this was the first holiday in elven years that I ate my entire plate with family and I wasn’t sick.

This Thanksgiving was the first time I was able to spend valuable time with individual family members thanks to a remote job.

This Thanksgiving was the first time I left my tiny house for more than 7 days and returned to a home without incident.

Has this year been hard? 100%

Am I different because of the hard?

You bet.

I am stronger.

I am healthier. Physically, Mentally and Spiritually.

I am learning.

So as the calendar flips tomorrow to the last month of 2025, I am thankful God isn’t finished. He continues to push me, to challenge me and sanctify me.

Why?

Because he loves me that much.

He also loves you.

I am grateful for both.

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The people along the way…

Fun fact about this Tiny House girl, I’m an introvert.

You may not believe me if you’ve ever met me in person, but truth be told I’m enjoying a beautiful evening in, adorned by the back drop of the twinkling lights of my Christmas tree. It’s Friday evening, my cockapoo is snoring and I’m at peace.

So while that may be surprising to some, I will also admit I do fall more towards the middle on the Myers Briggs. I still very much enjoy people.

It’s the people along the way that make the journey worthwhile.

I can still recount names from jobs first worked, who have impacted my life. It’s always the people that make the leaving, the changing hard.

My biggest fear starting new jobs is always, “what if I don’t make any friends?”

It’s irrational.

Always is.

And yet, it’s always there.

Today as I walked out of my office for the last time, my heart swelled with gratitude for the relationships the Lord allowed me to form. It’s always the people that make the difference.

You can scroll back and read story after story of people who have impacted my life.

I can only pray that my life has made an impact as well.

I can also pray that, even in a new remote job, perhaps, just maybe, I’ll make some more friends.

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A liturgy of goodbye

Tonight I had the immense privilege of practicing the liturgy of goodbye.

11 months ago, I signed up to be part of a cohort of men and women from across the country to practice the art of healing.

I had no idea 11 months ago that these men and women would become like family to me.

Each Monday night we would gather in our virtual living room and hold space for each others stories.

In 11 months they have watched me resign from a job, start a new job, wrestle through the changes of my body, agree to another life altering surgery, wrestle through relationships, resign from a job and step in faith into another job.

I have found healing, held space for others and helped them heal in the process.

I sit in awe and amazement at what 11 months, 7 people and space can do for a persons heart.

So what does the liturgy of goodbye entail?

3 questions:

1.) Where have I seen you change?

2.) What do I long for you?

3.) How you and your story have changed me.

So simple and yet so profound. Most of us don’t do goodbyes well. If we are honest, we create rupture so the goodbye doesn’t hurt as bad (proverbially).

Tonight changed that for me. We can do goodbyes differently. What if, instead of cursing, we do blessing?

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A whirlwind leads to change…

Mel Robbin’s is famous for her Let them Theory. Her famous quote, “Let them show you who they really are and then YOU can choose what you do next.”

I listened to this audio book in just a few days. Such a simple quote with such profound and deep impact.

You may remember a post about a certain employer not playing nice. This came just after I finished Mel’s book.

I knew I had a choice to make.

Sometimes the choice is no choice and other times, the choice is to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit.

In my case it meant…hang on tight, here we go!!!

After 2 months of praying, waiting and listening, last week I had a series of interviews that led to a job offer this past Friday.

God opened one door after another and in two weeks, I will begin a new adventure as a therapist with an intensive outpatient organization working completely remote.

God and I have been having conversations about my concerns returning to work. I believe this new opportunity is His compassion on me.

Please join me in prayer for smooth transitions, as well as opportunities to share the light and hope of change.

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Never did I ever

Never did I ever imagine an America where citizens didn’t have access to food.

Here we are.

I have volunteered in food distributions.

I have donated to food distributions.

This past week, I was given food at a food distribution.

If you have never struggled with food insecurity, you are one of the very few.

I am a masters level, associate licensed therapist who was served at a food distribution this past week due to the circumstances of my current life.

For 28 days, government employees have not received a pay check (barring special circumstances or generous banks).

Beginning this Saturday, many Americans will lose their food benefits completely.

Can you imagine a world where you couldn’t eat?

Close your eyes for a second and try.

What lengths would you be willing to go to in order to feed your family?

It doesn’t matter what side or middle of the isle you straddle. Humanity is humanity.

I pray that we would rise up, rise above politics, pressure and power to come along side of our fellow Americans who will and are the victims of said politics, pressure and power.

If we wonder what will happen when people lose access to food, we are about to find out.

It’s time for us to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

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This I know

I can’t say that life has magically gotten better. That’s just not true. Most days are like ground hog day.

I don’t hate the days.

I don’t hate much of anything.

If I hate anything, I hate mental illness and diseases that plague so many of us.

I have heard from several of you after my last post. If I look at the stats, I would say mental illness hits most of us, if not personally, than perhaps relationally.

What does mental illness look like when you live alone?

It looks like, for me, doing what I know.

I know spending time tucked up with my Jesus is helpful. Even if, cognitively, I can’t go as deep as I normally would. I do it.

Why?

Because the word is alive and active.

I’ve been spending each morning with one verse of my favorite Psalm.

He is my safety. The Holy Spirit dwells in me. I know He is present at THE121.

He and He alone is my safe place.

I sleep.

Some days I can sleep more than others and that’s ok.

I advocate when I have the strength.

Just today, I advocated for more liquid supplements. The Dr wanted me to take over the counter. However, when I’m on short term disability, money is still tight. She heard me and sent a prescription. Thank God for insurance and empathetic doctors.

Physically, I feel better than ever with next to no pain (my pacemaker stitch is being a little spesh).

So I do each day, what I KNOW to do.

I’m so thankful for my tiny house tucked up on the woods that allows me peace and solitude to heal.

Heal physically.

Heal mentally.

Heal emotionally.

Healing takes time. It takes work. It takes each other.

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We must do better

As I write this post, it’s well after midnight. While most days have felt pretty mundane as of late, every now and then (like today), the day is anything but.

On the ‘anything but’ days, it’s typically a doctors appointment that sends the day in a tail spin.

I’ve prolonged writing this post because I needed some time to ground myself, to seek the Lord and make sure that I wasn’t writing out of haste.

I write this post for advocacy, awareness and perhaps to help someone know they aren’t alone.

My first month of recovery felt a lot like trying to catch my breath. Between doctor’s appointments, meals being delivered and friends visiting, there was a lot going on, not to mention trying to learn this new body.

When week 4 hit, it literally felt like I had fallen off the edge in every sort of the imagination. I felt like the earth had stopped moving and I was just here…in mid air…somewhere…

I tried to distract myself by attempting to create things, trying to “do” all that I knew how to “do.”

It all fell so very short.

I just knew I wasn’t…me.

Cue the vulnerability….

My mental health tanked.

The days grew darker and darker.

Nothing I did was helping.

I called my dr.

We can’t see you until March

Not helpful was my reply.

Go to urgent care.

Was theirs.

We can’t see you.

Was urgent cares reply.

Between what felt like sheer absurdity, one kind scheduler in the dark web of Geisinger found one lone appointment with one lone physician “in my area” who could see me the next day.

I took the appointment, trusting it was what God provided.

I explained the darkness. Told him I didn’t think I was absorbing my mental health pill due to my new system.

Are you going to kill yourself?

He asked.

No

I replied.

Then you’ll be fine.

WE HAVE TO DO BETTER.

With tears in my eyes, I advocated hard with every fiber I had left in my being to get my mental health meds re-prescribed to liquid (ileostomy surgeries are notorious for malabsorption problems).

I write this because had I not been a therapist who knows a thing or two about mental health, I wonder where the non-therapist Tiny House (and big house) girls and boys of the world would be.

Sadly, I don’t have to wonder.

It is absolutely not ok for anyone, let alone a physician to declare the mental health baseline to be death.

I have also since advocated for a complete blood work up and found some other contributing factors to my floating out in the abyss. Which, once corrected will also help my mental health.

I write to hopefully remind us all that we all have struggles.

You are not alone.

None of us can know what others are going through.

Ask the questions.

If your mental health is struggling. Reach out. I’m a huge advocate of talk therapy (yes therapists need therapists!) along with medication.

988 is a valuable resource.

As a society, as friends and yes in the medical profession.

We all must do better.

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You can’t explain it…

I’m currently sitting in my favorite spot, my window seat at THE121. The sun is shining through the golden leaves of my towering oak while the sound of pine needles rain down on the gravel drive.

I hear Maggie Marie snarling at a pesky squirrel jumping on broken branches.

The end of the week hits different when my only job is to rest and heal. I sit and reflect on the week as though it were a thousand days. I try to savor the time and the moments because I know it will come to an end.

This week has held so many “God moments.”

Two stand out.

There has been no movement on the unnamed employer. I trust and ask God to provide. Typically I go to the mail far less often than the normal person, it’s just not exciting. However this week, I was led to the mailbox and inside was a very generous check. I stood and just thanked the Lord for his provisions.

ONLY. GOD.

The second may not seem like much, however God works in mysterious ways. Shortly after moving into THE121, I had a water break and I lost my entire water supply. Along with the water supply, I lost my water gauge that tells me how much water is in my supply tank.

For 3 years, I have lived on faith that there was enough water in my tank to supply my daily needs. For 3 years, I have never run out of supply!

This past week as much needed rain began to fall on teaberry acres, I noticed a strange movement in the broken gauge. I peered at the gauge briefly and the movement continued.

After 3 years, the gauge has “miraculously” started working again!

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the book next to my gauge is “Experiencing the Presence of God.”

God’s presence is clearly here at THE121.

When I feel weary, exhausted, confused or questioning, I simply have to stop. To stop and remember.

God is still in the business of the miraculous. He is still in the business of sanctification and faith stretching.

I pray daily that I would have:

Eyes to see

Hands to receive

And a heart to believe

I believe He is answering that prayer.

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