Tag: #mentalhealth

Quiet Dreams

I can remember as a young child pondering in my mind if God created me to be a nun.

I’m not Catholic but I’ve always admired the life of nuns and monks (I’m not Buddhist either).

I’ve always been drawn to the slower life.

In my profession I see the extreme hurt so many carry. The scars of the world are real and deep. It is a privilege and honor to bear witness to those scars and to help others on their journey of healing.

The work can feel heavy.

And so, perhaps, my dream of starting a solitude retreat feels more needed with each passing day.

I am dreaming and longing of land, next to nothing but God’s country. Dreaming of a few yurts and THE121 where you can simply come.

In silence or in longing.

To talk or not.

Several times in my life, I have had the immense privilege of attending solitude retreats at a local convent. Each time, my visits have been truly impactful towards my walk.

I imagine a day where I could give that gift back to others. To those who are hurting, weary, tired and worn out.

To those who have been carrying more weight than one is meant to bare.

I can imagine a greeting of tea and a warm bed. Perhaps even a crazy cockapoo who may or may not be sleeping.

These are the longings of a tiny house girl who dreams of living an even simpler life and maybe…perhaps, inviting you into that life, even if it’s only for a moment or two.

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

0

When words run short..

I’ve been silent lately because truly words have fallen short.

My last post was on Jan. 26. Two days before that was when my pipe burst…20 days ago. For 20 days, THE121 has sat dry. Here in the mountains of Pennsylvania, the winter has been BRUTAL. Temps well below average including multiple days of negatives…

I sat with some friends last week with tears streaming down my face.

I. Am. Tired.

Literal survival mode had taken its toll.

The next morning a text came through from a good friend.

A warm house, family away. Come.

I took the gift.

Gratitude.

So I’ve been able to rest this week away. To regain my strength.

Please pray with me as friends come on Saturday with the hopes of fixing the broken pipe in warmer temperatures.

During the sitting with friends, our task was to write a name of God and pray around that name for our situation.

The name I wrote down was

El Roi

The God who sees.

He has indeed seen me. My distress. My discomfort. My cries.

He has seen me. I have seen Him.

Such a loving and gracious Father in the midst of one of the hardest times at THE121.

Tucked in tight enjoying the gift of a warm home with water 💧.
0

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.

0

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.

0

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.

0

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.

0

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.

0

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.

0

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.

0

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?

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑