Changing the definition of MY LIFE

There comes a time when we have to decide how much of someone else's baggage we are going to continue to carry around. Even worse, how much longer we are going to let the lives of others define us, and make us who we are. I have just that issue. I let the mistakes of others affect my own life to the point that I am no longer ME but an extension of them. My entire life I have never really been "Beckie". I have been Albert's daughter, Helen's daughter, Ethan and Nathan's sister. Then I became John's mom. Later when I remarried I became John's wife, Joey's mom, Katie's mom. But not Beckie. I let the decisions, and yes the MISTAKES of those in my life become my choices. 

I have had real issues with my birth mother, and the fact that I do not want to be like her. To the point that if I realized I had something in common with her, I would quit doing it. Its almost like spite, but it holds me back in so many ways. She likes medication. In fact, she LOVES medication. So I take my fear of her addictions, and sabotage my own life. I get to where I don't want to take the medication the doctor has prescribed to fix my health situation, because every time I take a hand full of pills, I see her face. So I quit taking my medication. Or skip doses as a way to prove to myself that I don't really have to take it. That I am not like her. And hurt myself in the process. Sometimes its minor things that people think would be petty and crazy and they probably are. Her favorite snack is Nutella. So I refuse to eat it, because that would make me like her. I have followed her path in so many ways, even before I found her. She got pregnant young, and so did I. She writes, and so do I. Several of my quirks I got from her. But some are so ingrained that I cannot step back from them, so I choose the ones I can deal with. 

I have habits that people look at me and shake their head. I cannot handle my food touching. I have this long drawn out theory of what foods are allowed to touch and go together based on "rules" of food.  I have struggles with eating two different colors of M&M's at the same time. I used to pour my candy out and sort it according to colors, and eat it, in the order of the way they fall on the rainbow. These are things I am working on getting under control, getting past. Because these are things I got from her. But my entire life I have lived by the theory that "I don't want to be like her", but the problem with this is, I am letting her control my life, even though she isn't in it, because she is the basis of my decisions.

I recently left a very controlling and verbally abusive marriage. I decided to myself that I was no longer going to let him have control over me any more. But even though he is gone, he still has control. Every decision I make is based on things he has said, done, or thought, over the extent of our marriage. I have gotten in to a deep depression because its a struggle to break the pattern of life. Every day, the minute I got home from work, I was to go to the kitchen and start cooking. So now I rarely cook, because I don't have to. Its a rebellion, but its hurting me and my family, because we go our own ways, and eat separately, instead of having a family meal. My house is still his house, because he rules it silently, from a distance. Every decision I make is based on something in my head that I have heard him say. So I either follow the decisions he had laid down over the years, or I act in rebellion and do the opposite. But he still has control. I have to figure out how to take the control back, and make my decision be my decisions. But after so many years of being beat down emotionally, its hard. 

I am a list maker. I am one of those "to do list" freaks. When I cook Thanksgiving dinner, I make a menu, so I can check things off as I fix them. At work I have a list I keep written down, so I can check things off as I get them done. My friend made me make a To Do list of life. To list several short term goals to take control of my life back, and to get back on the right path. And she gave me a deadline. Some jobs are super simple, and some are going to be harder. Harder as in physically, and some are harder emotionally. Some are going to be like ripping a scab off of a wound, but it has to be that way in order to heal. Today that list is tucked away in my purse, like the shopping list I never can find when I get to the store. But I am going to rewrite it, and hang it on my wall. Because walking past and seeing those things not checked off will bother me, and I will have to take steps to getting the things accomplished. 

The people in my life and in my past only define me to the point that I allow it. And its time to stop allowing it. That is the only way I will truly take control of my life back. My life and my decisions should only be defined by my relationship with GOD, and by what will make me happy. I am not my mother, and I am no longer anyone's wife. Maybe on paper, but not in the ways that count. So today I am putting my foot down, and taking that first step in the direction of taking control back. I am not saying there won't be days of regression, and lots of tears. But I have friends in my life that are not going to see me fail. Today truly is "the first day of the rest of my life." And my checklist may end up very big, but I am going to work on my To Do list of life, until I get the life I want, and the life I DESERVE!

Depression... the never ending battle.

Depression is one of those tricky little things that creeps up on you when you least expect it. You can be doing really well, things are starting to look up, and then all of a sudden you realize that you are back-pedaling. That the darkness is overtaking you again, and you are starting to isolate. I love to be at church, I love my church family, but when the darkness starts to take over, I have to force myself to go to church. I can sit there, and wish I was anywhere else. I can feel completely and totally alone in a crowded room. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to laugh, or sing, or smile. I try to fake it, to pretend I am okay when really, I am not.

Depression is like a buzzard circling in the sky over you, swirling closer and closer. I watch out in the fields and watch the eagles, the hawks, and the other scavengers circling over the top of a dead animal, and at times that sight just fascinates me, wondering what they are waiting for, why they just circle and circle, instead of just going down and landing. Then I realize that they are studying the situation. Depression is much the same way. Its always there on the edge, circling and waiting. Sleep becomes a struggle again, either you want to sleep too much, or you cannot sleep at all. Things that used to make you happy don't all of a sudden. People you normally talk to non stop, you find your self avoiding, so that they don't see that you are losing the battle again. Because it makes you feel like a failure. You start to isolate. Spending more and more time by yourself. You quit wanting to go places, you stop singing to the radio in the car. You keep your head down. Don't look anyone in the eyes. So they don't see the pain there. And the buzzards get closer.

You either start eating too much, or don't eat enough. You can look at food, and know you need to eat, and nothing tastes good. Or else you go on a mindless eating spree, trying to find happiness in the bottom of a potato chip bag. Or, for some people, you try drinking your troubles away, or taking pills, or self abusing. I am fortunate that I have not taken those roads. The roads I do take are troublesome enough. Words used on me in the past echo in my ears. They are like darts that pierce my heart, my mind and my whole being and make me feel worthless. I can sit and stare at a wall for hours. I cry. I fight the demons that tell me that I will never be good enough, that I am wasting my time trying, that I should stop fighting. That I should just let the darkness overtake me. And the buzzards get closer.

Sometimes they are so close I can feel their wings brush against me. Sometimes I can feel their claws in my back as they try to latch on to me, to drag me further down. I can feel their shadow over me, drawing closer, and its hard to breathe. Its impossible to think, the weight becomes almost unbearable. But a part of me keeps fighting. I reach out to people and ask them to pray, because when I get that low, I cannot even find the words to pray. I hide it well, I can carry on a conversation, I can pretend to be happy, I can even laugh, all the while I feel like I am drowning. Like I am dying inside. And at times I want to. But God lives inside of me, and He tells me that I am better than this. That I have to keep fighting the demons that are trying to keep me from feeling God's love. The Bible says that satan is like a prowling lion, seeking who he can devour. I think he is also like a soaring buzzard. Because I know depression is not of God, but it is something satan uses to keep us from being what God wants us to be. To keep us from knowing God's love, to keep us down, instead of letting us live happily. I notice that when I do great things for God, or I am getting ready to, that the depression hits. It sidelines me for awhile, until I battle my way back out of the murkiness.

Depression is something I may struggle with the rest of my time here on earth. I have battled it for a lot of years. Sometimes I win, sometimes it wins. but I think the key is that I never give up. I have to keep praying, keep my friends praying for me, keep fighting, and keep helping those around me that I see are struggling with the same situations. I can see that sadness in other people. I can sense their pain, and can almost see the demons that they, themselves are struggling with. I want so badly to help them, but I don't know how, when I can barely keep my own head above water. But I still reach out, I share my story with them, I share my struggles so they know they aren't in this alone. That someone understands just what they are going through. Because depression's power is in the isolation, in making you feel that no one understands. And if I can help someone else loosen its hold against them, then maybe it will break its hold on me as well. Depression makes you feel hopeless and empty. Like a freezer with no bacon in it. My freezer has a lot of bacon in it and therefore my life has hope and meaning. I know that probably doesn't make sense but in my little world it does. Bacon=happiness. So I keep struggling, keep fighting, keep praying and keep eating bacon, and sooner or later, (hopefully sooner) the depression will lift again, the buzzards will fly away, and I will be able to breathe, and laugh and life will be happy once again. But I know, its always there, circling and waiting.

I am......ME! (and not a mistake)

Being adopted has a lot of downfalls. The main one is not knowing your medical history, and secondly, not knowing your family history. When I was 21 I searched for my birth family and found them, and got medical information. I was told that I was German, and Cherokee. But still, when you look in the mirror, you don't really know. I have some parts of my birth mother, but other parts that I assume must have been from the man who helped to give me life. I cannot really call him my father, because he will always be a mystery to me. I have spend my life feeling like I was just someone's mistake. I have had people in my life that have reinforced that idea over and over, until it became who I thought I was.  

Recently, a friend and I started tracing our family genealogy. I had a hand full of names of relatives and I started entering them in the ancestry registry. Leaf after leaf appeared, taking me back another generation, and another. Through the 1800's when I found a relative that was Cherokee, and was on the Trail of Tears. Through the 1700's when I found relatives that fought in the American Revolution. 1600's when my family arrived in Jamestown on a ship.... from England. I am English! All of a sudden titles started to appear, Richard Cave, High Sheriff, Sir Robert, Lord of Helmsley, Barons, Knights, Lords of Estates, . Further back in to the 1300's William "the Lion" Huntington, King of Scotland. I found relatives that fought with William Wallace, and were hung, drawn and quartered and their heads hung on London Bridge! Back farther still, Edward the Elder, King of the Anglo-Saxons during the 900's. Cynric King of Wessex from 530. More leaves. Flocwald Asgard, King of the Trojans. in the year 100. and still leaves were popping up, until the last leaf was on Hwala Asgard, 120 BC.......BC..... I traced my family lineage to Before Christ. I sat there and stared at that name, and that date. Most of the people I know can trace their family back to the 1700's, or maybe the 1600's when they immigrated here, but to trace it back this far! The only way possible was that the royals kept records that most people do not. I traced my family back 83 generations. Through England, Scotland, Norway, Scandanavia, Germany, Iceland, Afghanistan, I had a relative that died in Australia. How can this be? I am nothing. But now all of a sudden I have this fantastic family tree, with hundreds of branches. I started out with 4 generations of names, and took it back 79 more, over 500 relatives names so far, and more leaves to click on the outer branches. I was busy going up, now I have to go out and fill in all the blanks. 

The history is fantastic, great stories, pictures of castles, statues, scrolls of family records, legends, monuments to great deeds. Portraits of family members. There are people who achieved great things, took great risks, lived, and traveled, and fought. One relative was married twice and had 23 kids between the two wives.  But I still had to wonder why I was finding so much information and my friends were not. Then a verse came to my mind. Jeremiah 1:5 "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, And before you were born I consecrated you; I have appointed you a prophet to the nations."  Now I am not talking about the prophet part of that, because I am no prophet, but the first part of that verse, Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you...... God knew me, Before He formed the earth, He had a plan for me. All the way back to Hwala Asgard in 120 BC God knew that I would be born in 1969. I was never a mistake, I was planned. Maybe not by my mother. To her I was the consequence of her sin, but I was a part of the Master's plan. If I had just gone back to 1800 and then dropped off like so many of the sections of my family tree did, I would have just kept with the idea that I was a goof. But to be able to trace a line back, proves that God always meant for me to be. 

This changes nothing in my life, When I was a kid, I used to daydream that my mother was a princess, and I had been kidnapped by gypsies and put up for adoption, like the fairy tales, and one day my royal family would search for me and find me and take me to the castle. But, that never happened, and yes I do come from royal lineage, but no one is going to come and whisk me away in a carriage (or a limo). My exterior life is going to go on just as it did before. But inside, I have changed. I have a family tree! I know what parts of the world my relatives came from. According to Katie this explains my love for tea, because I am English. Maybe this explains my love for English and Scottish accents! But all in all, it shows me that God loves me, and that He always did, even before I took my first breath. Sometimes we forget that He has plans for our lives. I came from a long line of greatness. There is a tiny piece of each of those people inside of me. The life span of many of my kin were in the 70-80's. So I know these health issues are not going to get the most of me because I come from strong stock! My family stood up for what they believed in, even to the death! So who am I to fear the struggles I deal with!?? God is working in my life and I need to live up to what He has created me to be. I don't know exactly what that is, but I am going to start preparing. God put it in me to write. I am writing. For years I kept the words tucked inside me, scared of being put down. Now I put them out there and the ones who are meant to, will read them and the others will not. But I honor God with my words. All that I am, I owe to Him. I may not have a lot of worldly possessions, but I have a heavenly home. 

God has perfect timing, He put me in this place at this time, and allowed me to find this information so He could reveal to me that I am worthy. I always have been, I just didn't realize it. 

All I want for Christmas is Unconditional Love

Christmas is about family. Its a time when families gather together and celebrate. We celebrate the birth of our Savior, or at least that is what we are supposed to be celebrating. It seems that now adays more people celebrate presents, and food, and parties, rather than remember the true "reason for the season."

I have been pretty ill this last few months. Everything is such a struggle and I spend a lot of time going to the doctors, getting tests, taking medication. I find myself isolating a lot, wanting to spend time alone, sleep, or just let time pass me by. I didn't have the energy to shop, to bake, to play Christmas songs and dance around and sing. There is no tree up at my house, no decorations, The rolls of wrapping paper are sitting in the corner and the presents are stuck in a box with each kids name on it, and duct taped shut. For my grandkids I shopped online and had it sent straight to them.  No stockings are hung. I had decided that Christmas just wasn't going to happen this year. But I forgot that these are not the things that make Christmas. Christmas is about Jesus. Its about going to church and watching the youth put on a Christmas program. Its about going with your church family and handing out food and fruit baskets and singing Christmas carols. These things I was able to do.  Its about going to church on Christmas eve to sing praises to God for sending His Son for us. Its about spending time with family, and friends, and showing them you love them, and accepting their love for you.

I have one of those messed up kind of lives where my family is very mixed and matched. Being adopted, you have a lot of issues. I have a family that shares DNA with me. I have no relationship with my birth mother, but I know my sister and an uncle and I love them both dearly. These are my blood relations. I have my adopted family, my mother, 2 brothers, 2 sisters-in-law, and lots of nieces and nephews. I love them as well. I also have my church family, the family that God gave to me, where He placed me to be saved and to serve. He has given me a group of people who love me even when I am unlovable. Who miss me when I am not there, and who are happy to see me. Who tease me, and worry about me, and chew me out (with love) when I mess up. He has given me awesome friends who refuse to let me isolate. Who drag me out and keep me as active as I can manage, but who don't act disappointed in me when I wear down.

I have had a few people make comments about how they cannot wait til I get back to being "the old Beckie", because this Beckie "isn't fun". That the doctors need to "Fix" me so I can "get back to normal.". This kinda hurts my feelings because while I feel bad, I don't feel like I am broken to need to be "fixed". And when someone goes through an illness, many times they come out on the other side changed, and never go back to the way they were before the illness. I look at a lot of things differently, my priorities are different, my wants and needs are different. God has  slowed me down, so I have no desire to go 90 to nothing all the time. He has shown me that I have to take care of myself, instead of putting myself dead last in order to meet everyone else's wants and needs. I want to be loved for who I am, whether I am sick Beckie or well Beckie or fun Beckie or depressed Beckie. I am still Beckie. These are just sides of me, they are not what defines me. But to feel like I am not good enough for someone if I don't behave the way they think I need to, or act like I did back when I was killing myself to satisfy everyone, that makes me feel like people don't love me for ME, but for what I can do for them. And that is not love.

Christmas is the season of Love. Remember John 3:16. For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. God loves us, whether we deserve it or not, whether we are sick or healthy, whether we are happy or sad. He loves us unconditionally. We should be the same towards each other. So as everyone gathers together with their family, look past the presents, and the food and truly look at each other. Love the ones that God has put in your life. Don't be upset if they are down, or sick, love the fact that they are still alive to love on. Don't look at people as needing to be fixed. God has put them in the valley for a reason, and people grow and change in the valley, don't pressure them to be what they no longer are. Love your family. Love your friends. Love God and Jesus, and remember this season is about Them.

Merry Christmas! May your holidays be everything you hope they are, and may you find Love wrapped up inside every package.

Who I USED to be.....

The other day I was talking to a friend, and made a comment about how he used to be a jerk in high school. He looked at me somewhat sadly and said, "yes, but I have already apologized to you for that." And he had. He came to me one day and asked me how he had treated me in high school, and then apologized for any times that he might have been mean to me. You see, he is a different person than he was then. Because a while back, he was saved. And part of being saved means you turn your back on your past life, and start living a new life for God. Sometimes part of that life means going to people who you have wronged and asking forgiveness. Or forgiving people you have been angry at, whether they have asked for it or not. Its not always easy, but if God forgives us, who are we to not forgive. But forgiveness isn't really what I have on my mind at the moment. Well, it is, but again it isn't. What I am pondering so deeply, is this. How powerful is the forgiveness that comes from God. We know we are forgiven through the blood of Christ. But how powerful is that blood?

I think we as people seem to make levels of sin. You have your gossipers and your gluttons, the little white liars. Then your big fat liars, your thieves, your adulterers. And then you have your murderers, your child molesters and people like Hitler, Bin Laden, etc. But I have never seen anywhere in the bible that lists greater or lesser sins. They are all listed as sins. So, based on that, the nice little grandma that sits at the cafe and "bears false witness against her neighbor" by gossiping, is actually just as bad as the terrible serial killer with fifteen dead bodies in his back yard. In GOD's eyes. Sin is sin. So, now that I have taken the long way around the barn, what I am pondering, is this. Is the blood of Christ powerful enough to wash away the sins of the mass murderer the same as the little ol granny? In my book the answer is yes. If the murderer repents, and TRULY turns his life over to God. So why is it that we as people, decide that the blood of Christ is strong enough to cover small sins, but not enough to cover big ugly sins? Or if we agree that it is strong enough, why do we continue to drag a repentant person thru the muck and mire of their past sinful life, rather than forgive them truly and let it be in the past.

We are supposed to be Christians. To be "Christ Like". And in all the verses that I have read, when Jesus forgave someone of their sins, it was forgiven, as far as the east is from the west. I don't remember Him ever running in to the Samaritan woman later and calling her that woman who used to be an adulterer. I don't recall Him acting that way towards the woman He saved from stoning. I don't remember Him constantly rubbing the disciples noses in the fact that they bailed on Him, or that Peter denied Him. And I feel fairly confident that when I stand before God's throne, He is not going to say "well there's Beckie, she USED to be a grudge holder," He is going to say, "there is Beckie, she trusted in My Son for salvation, she is My child." So as Godly people, why aren't we treating our brothers and sisters the same way. Why do we feel the need to drag up their past, if we claim to have forgiven them? Or if they didn't wrong us, but we know that their past is not a shiny one, why do we expect people do forget our own sketchy past and not extend that same measure of grace to them?

Our past is just that, its our past. And if GOD can forgive us for it, through the blood of His Son, then are we better than He is, to continue down that road of judgement and unforgiveness? Are we going to have to realize that we might actually see repentant murderers in Heaven, while sweet little grandma's go to hell because they never got saved. Its a hard pill to swallow. But its the way it is. But my goal is to stop reminding people about how they USED to be. If you USED to be a jerk, if you USED to be a liar, if you USED to do drugs, drink, swear, or whatever, and you turned your life over to God, then that is not who you are any more. For those I have judged by old standards, I apologize. For those that perhaps have judged ME by old standards, please realize that I am not that person anymore. I struggle at times, I fail and at times I am not very Christ-like, but I am NOTHING like how I USED to be. And I am so very thankful for that.

Disappointment..... a reflection.

Sometimes I get really disappointed. I get disappointed when I want something really badly and I don't get it. I get disappointed when someone that I thought was my friend, walks away from our friendship without a backward glance. I get disappointed when I look in the grocery ad and bacon isn't on sale. There are levels of disappointment, and I have given examples of three of them. I couldn't really even name something I wanted that I didn't get, because wants, needs and desires are so fleeting, "Man, I really want that car." whoops, someone else bought it. And the feeling lasts until the next thing catches your eye. The second example is one of the most painful kind, when you face the loss of a relationship that you had felt was the forever kind. When your best friend decides they don't want to be part of your life anymore. When someone who professes to love you, changes their mind. This disappointment leaves a much deeper hole in your heart. It's painful, and sometimes hard to get past.  The third example, the thought of paying full price for bacon, while tragic, is nothing really. Just a daily disappointment.

I myself have been a disappointment. I was a disappointment to my mom when I refused to wear dresses and play with dolls, choosing instead to play with trucks and dig in the dirt. I was a disappointment when my grades did not match my ability. And I was a disappointment when I got pregnant my senior year of high school. Disappointing my parents always bothered me, because I hated seeing that look in their eye that mean that I had not lived up to their expectations. At times I still try to live up to expectations that are impossible to meet. I try to be the perfect daughter, to make up for the mistakes made in my younger years. But nothing can make up for them, for they are in the past. Yes I got pregnant too young, unmarried, but I never considered my son to be a mistake, and for almost 27 years he has been a great joy in my life. I too have been disappointed in my parents. When they didn't get me the Michael Jackson Thriller album for Christmas, when I was forced in to a dress for school pictures, when they grounded me for something I didn't do. I would be disappointed when they weren't cool like the parents of my classmates. But I realized later that those things are nothing. None of those events were life altering. Even though maybe they felt like it at the time.

I know I disappoint my kids. When I don't feel like cooking supper and they have to eat microwave burritos.... again. When I don't let them hang out with their friends. When I cannot afford something they really want. But again, those things are fleeting. In ten years they won't remember those things. I am sure I disappoint my friends, when I fall back in to bad habits that they helped me kick, when I start thinking negatively, when I struggle with the same things over and over again, instead of walking away from it. Lot's wife and I have a lot in common. I spend a lot of time looking back, instead of concentrating on what is ahead.

But really, the biggest fear I have these days is disappointing God. The times He calls me to do things and I refuse. The times I fail and falter over and over. The times I lack faith in the simple promises He has made to His children. I imagine Him sitting there in heaven, sighing deeply and shaking His head. "Oh Beckie, " He must say. "Why do you go down this road again? If you would just listen to Me, life would be so much easier." I know He loves me unconditionally, and would never leave me, but I know that I make Him sigh A LOT! And it grieves me to know that I have done things to make Him sad. I want Him to view me like He did Job. "Sooooo, have you seen My servant Beckie, she is amazing, I am so PROUD of her." I know there are times I made Him proud. When I turned from my ways and accepted His Son as my Savior. When I did the things I was called to do without running from it. When I use my writing talent to bring glory to His name. But even among those times, I know He is still sighing. Because I struggle so much. I listen to Satan's lies and let them get me down. I look away, and go down a wrong path again, until it gets to where I can no longer hear His voice. When once again I have to cry out for Him to bring me back to the fold. And He is always right there, waiting on me to come back.

Life is short, and its full of disappointments. No one is perfect and there is no way we can ever hope to reach the expectations that people put on us. So if there is anyone that I have disappointed, I apologize. For the ones who have disappointed me, I forgive you. And I strive each day to NOT disappoint God, the only One who matters. Because I want, more than anything. for Him not to look down at me and sigh, but to smile and say, "yeah Beckie, atta girl!"

Greetings from the Valley

Have you ever been tired? I mean so tired that you just can't move? Last winter I went through a bout of insomnia where I was sleeping 2 hours a night, if that much, and I got so tired, that I fell asleep at church, in a crowded noisy room, standing up, leaning against a wall. Just for a moment, before someone touched me to see if I was okay. But I was that tired. Now I am in a phase where I want to sleep all the time. I go to work, come home and go to bed and sleep. Some nights I sleep ten hours or more. And wake up exhausted. I know that while my body may be asleep, my mind is on overdrive. I toss and turn and wake up with my blankets on the floor, my pillows may be down by my feet. Its like I am battling something all night long. And I wake up feeling like I haven't been to sleep at all.

I am so tired. I am tired of living in a world so full of sin that it seems normal. I am tired of people who act like they are my friend but talk behind my back. I am tired of people who think that I am incapable of managing without their constant "advice". I am tired of being made to feel small, of being made fun of because of my faith, of being hurt, and abused, and neglected. I am tired of working as hard as God has called me to work, and seeing the pew sitters complain about things that haven't been done. I am just tired. And because I am tired, I am complaining.

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday and telling him what all had been going on, since it had been awhile since we had seen each other. I told him that I was deep in a valley, and that I knew that I had to spend time in the valley to grow, but that I was so weary of it all. He said that we all think that because we are Christians that we are supposed to be on the mountain all the time. He said that these "feel good preachers" (insert names here) give us this false reasoning that following God means that life is going to be a piece of cake, but that if we are truly followers of Christ then we are going to have it hard. Christ suffered, He was mistreated His entire ministry, so how can we as followers of Him, expect to be treated any differently. He was tempted by Satan for 40 days, so how can we expect Satan to leave us alone if we are doing God's work? The best advice he gave me was to keep my head up. Look up towards God, keep my head held high, because I am living my life in a fallen world and trying to do what's right, and even though the valley seems endless, not to do anything crazy. Let the haters be haters. Let the pew sitters sit, because their rewards,(and the lack there of) will follow them. It really made me think and it made me feel good. I should feel blessed to be attacked by Satan because it means he is not liking what I am doing. If the haters are hating, it means that I am making them think, and they have to knock me down to try to get me to stop.

Another friend told me recently that I need to remember that I am a child of God and that I need to remember to praise Him in the storms. Sometimes that is so hard. Especially when I am in a storm and see so many people sunning on the beach of their life. Sometimes God calls me to do things, and I hesitate, and wonder what the repercussions are going to be. I shouldn't be that way, because Jesus never hesitated to wonder if He was going to be stoned, He dove right in and did what He was sent to do.

I am looking at these headaches I am going through as one of two things. Either God has brought them upon me, because it has greatly slowed me down, I pray more, think more. I have soul searched, and made changes in my life that were needed. I have started writing again. I do what He calls me to do the first time He calls, rather than pulling a Jonah and running from Him. I love more, and I show that love more. I take nothing for granted.  The other thought is that Satan is behind them, trying to keep me down, so that I don't feel like going to church, reading my Bible or praising God. I will admit, sometimes it gets hard. I have had to walk out of the sanctuary at church when the singing has gotten too loud. I have walked away from fellowship because the noise level was too high. I have skipped devotion times because my head was hurting and I could not concentrate.But I have never let my love for God diminish.

I know this is different than a lot of my blogs here lately have been, but these are the thoughts that have been rolling around in my head this morning. Over and over, so I decided they needed to be shared because someone obviously needs to hear them.

I have decided to find the joy in this valley, to look for the positive even if it feel like it does not exist..... and I have decided to fix bacon for breakfast and I might just eat the whole package. Because bacon is the Prozac of the food world, and its been a really rough week......

The painful crossroads, the path untaken.

A few years ago I had a nephew that committed suicide. He had attempted it a few times before he succeeded. He had a lot of problems that were overlooked, marked up as normal teenage issues. No one could understand what had happened. I couldn't understand it either.  I remember the first time I heard about someone ending their own life, I was a young teenager. My dentist's wife had cancer and took her own life. I remember thinking that it just didn't make sense, because it just seemed so wrong. The occasions I have heard about it since then have affected me the same way, it doesn't make sense, nothing could be that bad, nothing is hopeless, or serious enough to end your life over. I had known periods of depression in my life, but nothing that made killing myself seem like an option. 

This has been a huge year for me. My life has turned 180 degrees in a short period of time. At times changes were coming so fast that the 180 seemed more like an out of control tail spin. One minute I was on top of the world, the next I was deep in the valley of despair. Happy, sad, excited, depressed, laughing, crying. Lives ended, new lives began, I started a solo journey, I made dreams come true, I found self worth, I found joy, I found heartache. If there was an emotion out there, I have probably experienced it this past year. Fear, pride, excitement, nervousness. I have had to walk out of church services more times that you can imagine because of crying. I have shed a million tears on the altar. I have had so many people pray with me, as I poured out my heart to the Lord. I know without a doubt that I am saved. I have no fear of where I am going when I die. I just am not in a rush to die. But I struggle. There are times that I have heard about someone committing suicide and gotten angry. I have lashed out in anger and said that I don't believe anything could ever be bad enough to make this the answer.... And I have never struggled with suicidal thoughts the way I have in the past couple of months. 

I am not a suicidal person at all. Not at all. I saw the agony that my family went through after my nephew's death. I would never do that to my family. I would never leave my kids to find my body, to deal with the "what if's". I know God has a plan for my life, and that would never be part of His plan. But the thoughts still remain. At first I thought it was the medication I was on for anxiety, so I changed medication. But the thoughts have recently came back. I struggle with inner fears, with loneliness, with loss of friendships. I have health situations that are wearing me down. I hurt. I have struggled with periods of insomnia so severe that I was literally functioning on a couple of hours of sleep a night, if that much. For weeks. And that is when those little thoughts trickle in to my head.  "take some pills, you will feel better, take lots of them, and the pain will stop."  "life is never going to get any better, you will always be alone, no one loves you."  "No one would miss you if you were gone. Your kids would be better off than having to deal with a mother like you." 

I have disturbing dreams. I dream about death. I know this makes me sound crazy and I am not. I think God is giving me insight to the hopelessness that people can feel, that drives them to this. Because suicide comes from being hopeless. Hopeless. The opposite of hopeful. If you are hopeful, you know that life will get better. That there is a purpose, and that the mountain is just around the bend. But if you are hopeless, then you are without hope. Nothing will get better, it will always be worse. I have been hopeful and I have been hopeless. I am not hopeless, but I have felt that feeling. 

I know that depression has two causes, one is a chemical imbalance in the brain, and one is situational. I know that both types of depression can lead to suicide. You cannot pray your way out of depression, you cannot talk your way out of depression, you have to get help, you have to have God in your life and you have to have supportive friends. I just do not know how you can survive it without these things.  

There are times I have felt as wrung out as an old holey dishrag. When moving takes more energy than I have. But I have a full load to carry and not moving is not an option for me. So each day I climb out of bed, and put one foot in front of the other to get through the day. I sing praise songs, I hum if I can't sing. I smile when I don't feel like it. I work in the public so I have no choice but to talk to people, which keeps me from isolating completely, which is what I want to do most. I can spend hours looking at the wall. I have planned out my funeral in my mind, I have visualized it, as if I was actually sitting there watching it. I see my friends walking past me, I hear the nice things they say about me, things they have said to me in real life, but I never let them sink in to my thick head. My friends tell me I am amazing, awesome, smart, funny, an amazing cook, a great writer, a wonderful friend, a good mom. I lay in the casket of my mind, and hear them say these things. So why can I not apply these truths to my life now, to give me hope and to raise my spirits? Why do I feel like Job, sitting in ashes, scraping my sores and wondering what I did to deserve what I am going through? I have value. My kids love me, they think I am the best mom ever, even when I am struggling. My family loves me, even though we have differences, and I am not their blood family. The parts of my birth family that I care about, love me as well. My church family loves me,whether or not I come to church with a pan of something yummy that I have baked them. 

I would never take my own life. I know that for certain. God has a set time for me to leave this world and join Him in heaven. Its not up to me to make that happen any sooner. He has work for me to do here. I have places to travel to, dreams to fulfill, grandbabies to watch grow up, and new bacon recipes to try. But I don't feel anger at people who take the sad hopeless journey to forever. I won't call it the easy way out, because I don't think it is a decision that comes easy. I think many times it is a spur of the moment decision, that with further thought maybe would be decided another way. I think many times it happens in the heat of the moment, when the hopelessness gets to be more than they can bear. When the demons whispering in their ear start to make sense. I have a great empathy for those who struggle with these tendencies. I am not sure if my depression is chemical or situational. I know that my body is in an emotional overload. But the good greatly outnumbers the bad. I have friends, and family that love me. I have a support team that is amazingly wonderful. I have God in my corner, and I know He has faith in me to get past this "Job" time in my life. The bible says that God will never let us be tempted more than we can bear, and He will always provide a way out of it,  so we can stand up under it. I just have to keep looking for that way out. Keep looking up. Keep the faith. Suicide is a very real, very scary thing. My heart aches for those left behind, but it also aches for those who have taken that road. Because "there but for the grace of God, go I." Life can be bad, but it can always get better. Suicide takes away the possibility of it getting better. My cup may be half empty, but sooner or later, someone will be there to fill it back up. And there are days that it absolutely overflows. I know that suicide is a real and serious issue, but I have faith in God to get me past those thoughts. It may be something I struggle with until I learn the lesson that God is trying to show me. But I know it is a path I would never go down. Tomorrow can always be better than the problems of today.

     And besides, I have a freezer full of bacon and I don't want anyone eating that but me......

How are you.........really???? (To lie or not to lie)

I go to church. Every Sunday. And I stand face to face with my friends, and I lie. Shocking? I don't think I am the only one who does it. I don't even realize most of the time that I have done it. It goes something like this:

Person: Hey Beckie, how are you?

Me: Oh, I'm fine, great, pretty good (insert your favorite adjective here)

Person: thats great! 

Me to myself: they bought it....

I go to church because I have to. I am not made to, but there is something inside me that says I have to be in church. I have to praise God, sing songs, hear prayers being spoken. I need to hear the prayer requests, know that others have problems worse than mine, but also to hear the praises, that God hears and answers those prayers. I need to be around Christians, to feel the love, get the hugs, the teasing, the smiles. I need the sermon, whether it steps on my toes, or uplifts me and shows me I am on the right path. I need that prayer time at the altar, when I can unload my burden and leave it with God. I need to laugh, I need to cry. But I still lie. 

I am in a valley. A deep ravine of emotional and spiritual agony. I am not sure why  I am here. I know that many valleys are here to increase our faith, or because we have a lesson we need to learn. I wish I would learn faster. I am depressed. I have read a lot about different people in the Bible who suffered from depression. They tore their clothes and sat in ashes. Job was depressed. He lost all he had, was afflicted with sores. He questioned God, but never cursed Him. King David struggled a lot with depression, many of the Psalm's he wrote were crying out to God in his sadness. Abraham, Jonah, Jeremiah, King Saul, Elijah, all struggled with times that they were deeply sad, and depressed. People think that Christians should not have depression, but there are several examples of GODLY men who did. So why do we think we are above it? I am not comparing my struggles with Job. I have not lost all that I have. Job was tested by Satan to see if he would stay true to God if he were afflicted and if he lost all that he had. He succeeded in the test. God had great faith in Job that he would stand true to Him regardless. I wonder if He has such faith in me. 

I don't curse God, and rail at Him as to why I spend so much time in the valley. I guess I question Him a lot. It seems unfair that I struggle so much and others seem to have it so together. Maybe they are better at hiding it than I am. I go to church and lie because I don't figure most of them care to hear about my struggles. I put on my church face, and play the happy Christian. Christians are supposed to be happy all the time, cause we have God and no problems. But what most people do not understand is we also have Satan battling us all the time, especially if we are working for God, and not just warming a pew. Satan is like a lion, pacing around looking for someone to devour. He looks for the weak, to try to draw them away from God. I am weak, so I draw the strength from my church family to make me strong. My friends have started to call me on my lies. When I don't make eye contact when I say I am fine, they bend down and look me in the eyes and say, "are you lying to me? Are you really okay?" I hate it when they do that, but love it at the same time. It shows me that they do care about me, but it makes me feel bad for faking it. There are times when I am truly fine, and I mean it when I say it. When I am on the road out of the valley, headed to the mountain top. When laughing comes easy, when I dash around the church from one location to another. But there are times I want to sneak in the side door, make it to my seat without talking to anyone. But still I go to church, because I know that if I don't, then I am even weaker, and become an easy target for Satan. 

So the question is this. Do I go to church and be truthful and tell them that I am NOT fine? Do I look for a word to use to be more vague so as not to tell too much but not to lie? How do I know who really cares and who is just being polite in passing? I went through a spell when I wasn't sleeping. I got maybe 2-4 hours of sleep a night, for weeks. So I started just telling people I was tired. Not fine, or unfine, just tired. But I want to be fine, I want to be happy. I want to experience life on the mountain top. I have grown weary of the valley. Of the lessons to be learned there. But I have learned to recognize the others who are in their own valleys. I have learned to recognize the other liars at church. The ones who hide behind fake smiles and are crying inside. I have learned that sometimes those whose lives seem the most blessed are also the most empty. I don't think I could learn these lessons on the mountain top. God must have a lot of faith in me to spend so much time on me. He works in my life constantly. Even at my most alone, I know He is with me. So maybe when people ask how I am, I should say. "I am not fine, but I am going to be." Because things could always be worse, but with God in my corner, they are never hopeless. 

Beckie..... You are Grounded.....

"You are so stupid."..... "You can't do anything right.".... "I have never seen a screw up bigger than you.".... I hear these things being said to me all the time. These, and much, much worse. I don't do anything right these days. I pay the bills late, I burn supper, I forget to buy bread, even though I work in a grocery store. Words such as these are verbal abuse. It's hard to believe that I would put up with someone talking to me that way, but I do. Daily. I am a victim of verbal abuse. I lived for many years in a marriage where I was verbally abused. Made to feel less than. But I am out of that now, and on my own. But I am still abused. Every mistake is magnified, and I am belittled, raked over the coals for the most minor transgression. Punished for every small misdeed. How can this be? But I face my abuser every single day..... when I look in the mirror.

When I heard the term "self abuser" I always thought about people that cut themselves, or otherwise caused physical damage to their body. I never thought about using words or thoughts to abuse yourself. But this is even more damaging I think than the other. Because I was verbally abused for so many years, it became a part of my life. Every action had a reaction. If I was running late from work, my mind would race about what would happen when I got home. Not physical abuse, but accusations, questions, made to feel guilty when I had done nothing wrong. Time limitations. Constant calls to see where I was, who I was with. It got to where I would dodge people in the stores because I didn't have time to talk to them, without getting in trouble. If I wanted to do something that wasn't approved of, then I was discouraged, or told no. I couldn't do this, because I hadn't done that.

After I got away from that lifestyle I thought things would be so much better, and in many ways they were. I found I was very capable of doing things I never had done before. I fixed my own truck, I changed the fuses in the breaker box when one blew. I thawed my own frozen water pipes. I bought a lawn mower. Each thing was a victory, and I was so proud of myself for each accomplishment. But I struggled in many ways too. All of a sudden I sank in to a depression. Each day was a struggle. I would go to work, go home, walk in the back door, kick my shoes off and slide in to bed. There would be days I never went in to the kitchen. My kids would have already eaten by the time I got home and I would eat crackers or whatever snack I had in my room. I was an avid reader, and I haven't read a book in 10 months, maybe longer. It's not that I don't have the time, but I just don't.

When I started counseling the first thing she asked me was how I felt about myself. My first thought out was " I am a screw up." The day before I had my internet disconnected for not paying my bill. Not because I didn't have the money, but because I forgot to pay it. Time got away from me and I didn't realize what the date was. I was so angry with myself over this. How could I be so lazy, all it takes is a phone call. I need a keeper. How am I going to live life on my own if I can't manage to pay my bills on time. The counselor said I needed to cut myself some slack. That I had gotten out of the abusive relationship but, because I was so used to being abused..... that I had begun to abuse myself. And looking over the past year, I have done just that. If I messed up, I would chew myself out until I would cry about it. If I made a mistake at work, I never had to worry about what my boss would say because I had already made myself feel so bad, that nothing he could say would make me feel worse. If I discovered I had mispriced a few cans, I would tell myself, "you are the most stupid person in the world, Beckie, how long have you done this job?" and so on, and so on. And then I would start punishing myself.

There are just a few things in life that I love to do. I love to read, I love to garden, I love to write and I love to bake. So every time I would think about reading a book, and I have a tall stack of "to read" books, I would tell myself, "you haven't done the dishes, you don't have time to read." "You don't need to read that, you have other things you need to spend that time doing." I had heard those things for years, but now that it was my choice to do what I wanted, I was still limiting myself, and punishing myself for what I wasn't doing. I have several flower beds, and I love tinkering in them. but mid summer I let them go, let the weeds take over and rarely even went out to smell the flowers. Why? Because my yard wasn't mowed, or my floor wasn't swept. If I don't have time to get the work done, I don't have time to do the pleasurable things. I had quit writing years ago because it was belittled, unimportant. Or my words were taken out of context and used against me. Journals were not private, I couldn't jot down thoughts or emotions and have them be private. So I quit writing and started to internalize everything. I would still bake, but only because that fostered the other insecurity in my mind, that people at church only liked me because I baked stuff for them.

I have recently started isolating myself again. Not really going places or doing things. If something fun comes along I do my best not to go. Sometimes my friends drag me, and I have fun. But I always tell myself I don't deserve to go, because I have so much work that is undone. I am lazy, unmotivated, worthless. One thing my counselor said that really made me think. She asked me what my friends say about me. I told her that they say I am awesome, amazing, funny, smart. She asked me if my friends were good people. Yes. Do they lie? No...... Then I should believe them. If they tell me I am a great person, then I am a great person. Think about the people who put me down. Are they good people? Do they lie? Then why do I believe their words over the words of good people who don't lie? If I was truly that bad of a person I would have no friends. My friends would not be encouraging me to do things. they wouldn't be showing up at my house to drag me places. My phone would not be blowing up with texts seeing how I am. My Facebook page would not be covered with inspirational sayings and pictures of bacon wrapped turkeys and hot dogs. My friends love me, they think I am amazing. So maybe I need to take a long look at that person in the mirror that is always calling me names, and putting me down, and tell her to shut up! STOP! Enough is enough. Abuse is a cycle. And its time I break that cycle. I don't talk to my kids the way I talk to myself. I don't talk to my friends the way I talk to myself. So why must I treat myself as less than the way I treat others? The saying that I am my own worst enemy is very true. I left an abusive relationship, only to become abusive myself. I have to learn to love myself, to see my own awesomeness, to reward my accomplishments and cut myself some slack on my screw ups.  I need to make myself read, even just a chapter a day, until I get past that self imposed grounding from the things I enjoy. I need to choose a warmer day and clean out the flower beds for next spring. I need to relax, and remind myself that God sent His Son to die for me! That He loved me enough to plan a life for me. He loves me no matter how much I screw up, and regardless of whether my dishes are done, or my lawn is mowed. My friends don't care if my truck needs washed, or if I baked some awesome dessert, or walk in empty handed. I am an amazing child of God, and I need to quit treating myself so bad.

My son and I started a new habit. Every time we put ourselves down we have to counter it with something positive about ourselves. If I get caught telling myself I am stupid, I have to then complement myself to make up for it. Combat negative with positive. It helps. I notice that my thoughts about myself are starting to improve. I still struggle with self abuse but I think admitting the problem is the first step in fixing it. I have a ton of friends, so I have to be a good person. God made me, and He doesn't make mistakes. I am starting to like myself,  so I know that I am on the way to loving myself and you don't abuse the ones you love. You treat them well.... and feed them bacon.