Category: The Journey

My own personal journey

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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When they don’t play nice

God has done a miraculous work. There. I wrote it. I have been pain free for days. You’ve read all about it.

But what happens when things don’t go as planned? What happens when God doesn’t work in ways you expect?

That happened yesterday.

I received the phone call I wasn’t expecting.

My unnamed job isn’t playing nice.

I’ll refrain from the details for there’s a lot to work out, which may or may not include a fight I wasn’t expecting.

Money I was expecting that won’t show up.

You get the drift.

What happens then?

I cried. I said some words. I made a phone call to a friend who talked me off the ledge. I prayed. A lot.

With new mornings, really do come new mercies. A new perspective.

What if, the disappointment is a gift?

What if God wants to provide in other ways?

What if God wants to stretch my faith?

And so today I recalled all the ways God has shown himself faithful in just the last 4 weeks.

Friends who show up and bring meals.

Friends who climb ladders to a loft to help clean and discard.

Friends who just come and sit.

Just this week, a friend who made me a delicious lunch

And another friend texting today that she was bringing dinner tonight.

Unexpected blessings of provisions.

When others don’t play nice. When things don’t go as I might hope or as expected, I trust that God has other plans. I do today what God is asking me to do today and I will do the same tomorrow.

A wise friend once said, “All I have to do today is follow Jesus.”

In the meantime will you pray with me for God’s provisions?

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Nothing Ordinary about it

This may look like an ordinary field on an ordinary day.

You may see the green grass and the hint of the leaves starting to change with autumn knocking on our door.

This picture may seem ordinary.

However, it is anything but ordinary to this tiny house girl. I paused today to take this picture as a reminder that it’s been over a year since Maggie Marie and I were able to go on a long walk.

Pain had hindered me from doing most things and yet, here we are taking ordinary pictures on an ordinary day with an extraordinary God!

When speaking to a friend today, she asked me how I was doing. I use to dread that question. However, I now love it as it gives an opportunity to explain what God has done!

I really am feeling great physically! My current struggle is staying hydrated. Honestly, I found myself telling her that drinking enough isn’t my favorite thing to do. My friend reminded me to reframe.

This is my new reframe “I am learning new ways to care for my new body.”

And that friends is a phenomenal reframe. God has indeed given me a new body. A body that can walk more than a mile to enjoy God’s beautiful creation.

May we all be reminded, not to get stuck in what may seem ordinary, but rather take time to find the extraordinary.

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How’s it going?

I’m coming up on the 1 month mark and truthfully, it doesn’t feel that long!

So how’s it going?

Physically, I just can’t believe the difference! Physically, I feel great (just a little sore…healing ya know!).

Mentally, I’m still adjusting. I truthfully feel like I’m getting to know myself again. Not the tiny house girl from 14 years ago, but who am I now and how do I honor this broken body that God is making whole?

I have been finding a lot of Jesus on my beautiful new porch. These crisp (feel like fall) days, the perfect of perfectest weather.

When I saw the completed porch, I knew there was just one thing missing. A rocking chair.

The movement of rocking can help calm the nerves and relax our parasympathetic system. So before I get all therapeutic…look it up 🙂

Rocking chairs can be rather expensive and on a short term disability budget, I knew it was out of the question. I began to pray and ask God for a rocking chair.

Maggie Marie and I have begun to walk a few days a week to begin to rebuild my core and leg strength that has been desecrated.

On one of our lovely end of summer walks this past week, I noticed some rocking chairs in a neighbors yard.

What can it hurt to ask?

I asked.

“I will find you the best!”

He replied.

And that my friends is how God provided a free rocking chair for this anxiety prone tiny house girl.

This beautiful chair shows the weathered signs of days gone by and you know, I think I quite like her that way.

It will serve as a visual reminder that I too am a little weathered worn. And yet, God can still use me to help others soothe their anxiety ridden parasympathetic system.

So how’s it going?

Healing isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon and God continues to show me day in and day out that He is all about the healing.

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Grandma B style please

My beloved sister came out to stay with me several days post op. One morning as she was graciously making my breakfast, she asked me how much butter I would like on my toast.

“Grandma B style please.”

We both laughed because she immediately knew how much butter I meant.

A lot.

And then some.

Grandma B was known for liking some toast with her butter and we have all since fallen in her footsteps, much to our cardiologists dismay.

This morning as I toasted my butter, a smile came across my face as I recall the abundance.

Life hasn’t been easy.

Life wasn’t easy for Grandma B either.

I wonder if butter was her one luxury?

In the ups, the downs and life in the middle, I recall the abundance of God’s faithfulness.

This morning as I study in Ephesians chapter 1, verse 11 popped off the page

He makes everything work out according to His plan.

For those who are suffering that can feel a little harsh.

The question of why God allows suffering, is one for the ages.

I can only share my personal experience.

I will tell you that I know God in ways I never would have known God before. I have changed in ways that I can only attribute to the long wrestling. I have had opportunities that have only opened because of my suffering.

Could God have done it other ways? Sure. Would I have been willing? Honestly, I don’t know.

And so, this morning I recount the abundance. Through lathers of butter, Grandma B still continues to point me to Jesus.

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Learning a new way

As I approach the two week mark of this new broken body of mine there are so many highs, but I also want to acknowledge the lows.

The highs involve being nearly pain free for all but one or two days. For a girl who has lived in chronic pain, I can’t express what this means.

My beloved sister coming to care for me for several days and doing the dirtiest of dirty work (think Mike Roe would have loved to do an episode dirty work).

Being stronger mentally than I have been in months and the ability to lay on the couch with the sun streaming through my puppy kissed windows, does something deep for the soul.

Enjoying the company of friends and laughing until it hurts…more.

I, however, must continue to acknowledge that my body is broken.

With this broken body, it hates new things. In turn, it tries to reject that which is new. Namely in the form of hives.

I have a large outbreak that I have been battling for about the last five days. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I am convinced that in hell, there will be eternal itching.

Unfortunately the hives are underneath my wafer which has to be worn, or else mount saint stoma spews…EVERYWHERE.

This is my current battle zone.

Speaking of Mt. saint stoma. She does spew, with no warning and no control. She also speaks…a lot! So if you’re coming to visit, get ready for the show!

Regardless of the highs and the lows, God is still faithful. I will never be whole this side of heaven. If God heals me or if He doesn’t. He is still good.

All in all, my heart is full of gratitude. I continue to heal. I continue to learn. I continue to lament. I continue to celebrate. Namely, I feel it all.

The highs. The lows. Everything in between.

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Good gifts. What’s new at THE121?

If you have ever visited THE121, you would have had the pleasure harrowing experience of balancing trepidatiously on what use to be a head board turned into stairs, er blocks.

They may or may not have been a home owners insurance’s worst nightmare. However, I will say they served me semi-well for the last 3 years.

Until.

They didn’t.

I can neither confirm nor deny that my cockapoo puppy either did or did not fall through the top block.

And then life continued to happen.

And then the news.

Another surgery.

Many prayers prayed. We asked God to provide.

And did God ever.

A VERY gracious persons wanted to help aid in my recovery to allow a much safer option into THE121 for not just me but all who would be helping me.

But who’s going to do the work God?

Enter a VERY skilled carpenter from church.

A story only God could write.

Tonight as the sun sets over Teaberry Acres, I lay (would like to be sitting but…healing…) on my couch with a heart swollen with gratitude.

THE121 has a beautiful…not just stairs, BUT also a deck!

If you’re looking for me during the day in the next 3 weeks, I’ll be sitting on the deck with my coffee and cockapoo working on healing.

So what happened to the old stairs blocks?

They became risers for my generators! I owe that suggestion all to the skilled carpenter! If you’re in the area and looking for a carpenter, shoot me a message and I will gladly pass along his info!

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He is good

Maggie Marie is snoring at the end of the couch. My sister is in the loft working remotely and I sit with coffee in hand overlooking the acres reflecting on the goodness of God.

If you would have asked me a week ago if I thought I would be sitting in my house drinking a coffee today, I would have emphatically answered not likely, and yet, here I am.

Perhaps it was a grace that I didn’t know what to expect this time around. A grace for the work that I needed to do in my own heart.

I believe we all go through levels of surrender, and if we are willing, the Father will take us deeper and deeper.

If I were still in the hospital. If I didn’t pull through like I thought, no matter the what if’s, it would never change the character of God.

I can celebrate the losses along with the wins.

I am still quite sore and VERY nauseous. I’m continuing to learn this new broken and blessed body. This broken and blessed body that is keeping me alive.

He is for us.

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