I Miss Her

I remember crying so hard and thinking on several occasions that this must be how toddlers feel when they throw tantrums. They do it because they think that if they cry hard enough they'll get what they want. That's pretty much what I did. I'd cry and kick and, if I were home alone, scream. I'd get so upset that I would throw up. And then I would wear myself out and fall asleep.

I've accepted the fact that my mom is in Heaven and it will be what feels like a really long time before I see her again. There is nothing I can do to change that. But man, it sucks.

I miss her when I feel like I have no friends.

I missed her when I went to small group knowing only one or two people. I wanted to call her after I went to The Grove with the girls I didn't know and tell her that I wanted to run away, but I stayed. I wanted her to be proud of me. Because that was hard. Really hard.

I missed her when I went to see my fourth psychiatrist in as many years. I wanted her to be with me because I was scared. I wanted her to be my advocate because I'm not good with words. I wanted her to jump in when I couldn't quite get out what I wanted to say.

I miss her when I'm sick and home alone. I want her to come watch movies with me and just sit close to me and hold my hand.

I wanted to call her and cry to her after Evie choked on a mint at church. After I had to do the Heimlich and she was completely fine but I was shaking and terrified and people around me kept saying, "well, she shouldn't have had that anyway. She's too young for that."

She was so kind. She KNEW me. She understood me.

One of my favorite stories about my mom took place when she was very sick. I was watching TV in the room next to hers. She had been sleeping but called me into her room. She asked me if I wanted a popsicle. I knew she wanted one so I told her that I didn't, but that I'd be happy to go get one for her. She said, "Oh no, that's okay. You don't have to go downstairs just for me. I'll get one later." (You better believe I ran downstairs to get her one anyway)

I want to be like her. I want to be kind and selfless. I want to put others before myself.

Tonight I am sad, but I am not without hope. I cry, but not tears of despair. I miss her. I will never understand why God called her home so early, but I know that He worked through her. And I hope He'll work through me, too.

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Trapped

I wish something as simple as having a conversation would come more easily. I wish it were easier to say "hi" and introduce myself. I wish I wasn't so overwhelmed just sitting in a room full of people. I wish being late didn't stress me out to no end. I wish I were more approachable. I wish I could enjoy myself at social gatherings. I wish I didn't wake up feeling like I was hit by a truck after said social gatherings. I wish I valued myself more. I wish I were more confident. 

I'm caught in a sea of lies. Lies that say I'm not good enough. I know they're lies, but I believe them anyway. 

"Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you." -Isaiah 43:4

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Untitled

I was thrilled to graduate from college. College was not the fun, easy, time of your life experience for me. It was hard. Every second of it. Most of my classes were hard. I registered for speech class six semesters and dropped it on the first day for the first five of those semesters. {side note: my last speech was a celebration speech. I chose "The Last Day of Speech Class" and my professor loved it.} Music is hard. It is more than just sitting around playing music all day.

As hard as it was, I had friends and professors cheering for me, encouraging me, and challenging me every day. Someone was near me almost all of the time. We became a family, as cheesy as that sounds.

The last semester was the student teaching experience. I was no longer surrounded by my family, but by 1,000 elementary schoolers and a mentor teacher who did not need to have a student teacher. Needless to say, I was done. Ready to get out. Ready to start my job caring for "my" sweet little girls. I was so excited.

Then I graduated. I have the best job. It is hard but there's nothing I'd rather do. I live with a family who has become my family. But if you know me, you know that change is one of the very long list of things that I S.T.R.U.G.G.L.E. with. Even if it's good change. I no longer have the safety net that was school.

During my freshman year, a psychiatrist diagnosed me with clinical depression, anxiety, and PTSD. I am SO much better now and I'm thankful for all the people who helped me through that time.

I still struggle. I am fully aware that I have it easy compared to so many people. But the thing is, depression is real. Anxiety is real. And it can be sneaky. It can be debilitating. I may overthink a situation. Then I get anxious about it, which leads to depression because I cannot stop thinking about something that I may have said that may have been misinterpreted. I get angry with myself because why do I have to be so darn sensitive? Why do I not run to God during every hard time in my life? Why can I not just choose to be happy? And what the heck do I have to be depressed about? My life is good. There is nothing for me to be sad about.

Sometimes I am so anxious that I dread going to hang out with friends. Not because I don't want to see them, but because I am scared. Sometimes I am afraid to make a phone call. I am afraid to ask questions. I am afraid to reach out to anyone to say, "Hey, I'm hurting. I need a friend."

Growing up I was indirectly taught that depression is sinful. Medication is sinful. Anxiousness is sinful. I need to trust God. Trusting Him will make it better. Those things are not necessarily true.

I believe that God is good. All the time. I believe that He allows us to walk through difficult times for a reason. We may never know that reason. I would like to believe that He has used me to encourage someone else or even bring someone to know Himself. I do not, however, believe that if you just trust God, life will be all better. I believe it's a process. One that I am still trying to work through and will for the rest of my life.

I have hope. I love the Lord. I believe that He is good. But right now I am struggling. I am hurting.

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