Category: The Journey

My own personal journey

Home Alone vibes

I was at a gathering a few weeks ago where I asked my friend, who runs an ER, if I was less likely to get sick now that I’m working from home.

He chuckled a bit and told me that I may be MORE prone to sickness now that I’m working from home because I’m not exposed as much.

Gee. Thanks.

Well don’t ya know…

He. Was. Right.

Remember the Christmas gathering last week?

Dang COVID.

I was fighting it hard until it began to fight me.

Mags and I have both been down for the count.

What does one do when one is single and runs out of food?

I decided I had enough energy to drive to the local corner grocery store to get some bread and eggs.

I NEXT to NEVER shop at said grocery store because the prices are sky high (welcome to living out in the wilderness) because they KNOW you need said items.

As I sanitized my cart and tried to get my bearings, I chuckled to myself. Turns out I was the ONLY female amongst a scattering of burly men wearing their flannel and carrying their shopping lists scribbled down by their presumed wife.

I suddenly felt at ease knowing that we were all lost.

As I navigated the produce section and spun around the chicken legs that appeared to have been there for a hot month or two…I came to my senses and realized I was neither there for produce or extra fried chicken.

I limped past the range of mountain men to the frozen food section, it’s all I could think to get to sustain life for the next few days.

After I found some microwave meals, I threw in some bread and eggs because…well…life.

As I fumbled through the last few isles I noticed the Pom Pom on my hat was bouncing up and down knocking on my head. I then looked into my cart and chuckled…

I was SUPER tempted to find a tooth brush, hand it to the cashier (no self check out in the wilderness grocery store) and ask the cashier if it was approved by the ADA.

Happy to report no mountain men followed me home….that day.

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Please park…

WARNING: ‼️

GRAPHIC CONTENT BELOW

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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If only I were kidding…

Living off the grid in the woods is a lovely life. Even though some think I live in the “wilderness” I find it quite fantastic.

I have learned there is a phrase people use around here and it goes like this, “goin into town.”

Starting a new job, as you can imagine, requires “things.” Those “things” for me have included finger printing and a drug screen. I decided to “stack them up” if you will, to save on my trips “into town.”

Finger printing. ✅

Next up…

Drug Screen ….

And this, my friends, is where the fun began.

I turned down the back alley in my hoarded pick up truck, pulled over to consult my “pass” as to the location of said screening center.

Found it.

I opened the door and waited.

After an episode of HGTV the technician waived me back.

Wash your hands.

Empty your pockets.

Pee to the gallon mark line.

I’ll wait outside the door.

Ready. Set. PEE.

Except I wasn’t prepared to PEE.

Listen, I’ve never had a drug test. Ever. I thought they draw your blood. Don’t judge.

AND all the tips and tricks I’ve ever used were OFF LIMITS.

Run the water. NOPE. The faucet was under a pad lock.

DEEP BREATHES. NOPE. The technician kept knocking on the door.

“Time’s up!” She snarled outside of the door. “Go sit by the water cooler and start drinking!”

Lovely.

After another 27 episodes of HGTV (maybe 26…) I told her I was ready to “try” again.

DENIED

She denied my try!

“If you try and fail we will have to start over.”

Sit back down.

Then the front door to the shady place locks.

LOCKS!

Excuse me? I said to the technician

We are going to lunch. Was her reply.

Bye.

Can I go or do I have to sit here for an hour while you’re at lunch?

Sure.

Thank you Lord, she let me leave!

So there I was, with an hour to “waste” on a VERY full bladder!

I decide to grab a coke from McDonalds because that settles my stomach AND comes with FREE fries.

In my haste, somehow an entire bottle (maybe packet) of ketchup erupts alllllll over my white sweatshirt.

Lovely. The technician is really going to love me now!

I bypass the hour with my coke, fries and a trip to the Dollar Store.

If my bladder was full before, now it’s a Balloon ready to POP!

You know what else is ready to pop?

My ileostomy bag.

Yep. Remember this tiny house girl has an ileostomy bag which also “fills” with fluid intake.

1:06, great lunch break should be over.

I re-enter the shady back alley office and now…there’s a LINE!!!!

I bypass the country man, and a few other bulky construction men to flag down the technician who tried to hold me hostage.

Thankfully she had pity on the girl with ketchup stain all down her sweatshirt with a full ileostomy bag and bladder.

We repeated the empty your pockets, wash your hands…ya da ya da stuff.

Are you ready? She asks

Yep.

I proudly carry my cup into the bathroom again and this time fill it to overflowing!

This should do it.

BUT I also had to empty something else.

My ileostomy bag.

So I prepare to empty. I figured there was the toilet and better to do it when I was near a toilet. Right?

WRONG.

As the contents empty there’s a knock on the door!

What are you doing?!!!

Yep. The technician was standing outside the door.

I am emptying my bag.

Unbeknownst to me, emptying the contents of your ileostomy bag is forbidden in a drug screening!

I’m sorry?

Is that the right response?!

At this point. I have no idea what is and isn’t allowed in a drug screening scenario.

I’m coming out!

I gladly carry my gallon of pee across the hall to my technician friend (I try to call her friend, it doesn’t go well) as if I had won a gold medal! I smile big and hand her said gallon,

She isn’t amused.

Sign here.

I sign my initials, she hands me a paper and points to the door.

Just like that our 1.5 hour escapade is over.

Did I pass?

At this juncture. I’m not even sure how I find myself in these scenarios.

And this my friends, is how my new job begins.

***there may or may not be some exaggeration in this post, but mostly, this is how I recall the events happening.***

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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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So much more than soup

25 years ago, this insecure pompous tiny house girl walked into a science class on a college campus. Not because she wanted to be in said science class, but because it was required.

So there I was. I was barely surviving the college scene, carrying my own baggage and now this…I DEFINITELY wasn’t going to survive this.

Truth be told, I scraped by. Not because of anything I did, but because of who was teaching.

Mrs. Wright didn’t talk down to us, she taught us to think up. She knew that we counseling students may not have been the best scientists but that didn’t stop her from expecting us to learn and grow.

It wasn’t what happened in the classroom that I remember however, (although I do have a pretty solid memory of my friend falling asleep over her pig in lab and Mrs. Wright snapping her out of her coma!) no, I remember the investment she made outside of the classroom.

The invites to her house to watch CSI, the coffee breaks, the stops to simply ask “how are you?”

Her lab door was always open and it didn’t matter if we were science majors or not.

In grad school, Mrs. Wright invested in us even more. As poor grad school students, she frequently made us meals and invited us over (I can neither confirm nor deny that my roommate and I downed an entire pan of stuffed shells in one sitting).

If Mrs. Wright were cooking, we knew we were in for a mouth savoring meal.

As I began working for the University, Mrs. Wright became so much more than my professor, she became my friend. Lunches shared in the cafeteria would center around our lives and what God was doing. In some of the hardest days, she would simply listen.

Life went on and our paths parted.

Every now and then she would check in and upon the Tiny House making her maiden voyage to PA, Mrs. Wright made the hour trek to welcome her home!

If I were to describe Mrs. Wright in two words, it would be:

Intentional & Brilliant

Her intentionality sprung into action when I received a message that she wanted to come see me post op.

It wasn’t even a hesitation for this tiny house introvert.

Yes. Of course. Come.

It was just as if no time had passed.

She brought some amazing home made soup and cookies which, I devoured.

But it was so much more than soup. It was about a professor who invested in her student, mentored her student and then become friends.

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