Tag: #healing

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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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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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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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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