Where I Am Today

Imagine this. Imagine that you're in this old, musty castle. Somewhere in Europe, maybe, or maybe it's the remnants of a great old lighthouse on the Atlantic coast somewhere. You're standing in it, and you're almost overwhelmed with the history of the place. You can feel the history - the worn bricks under your feet, the smooth handrails, the cracked window panes, the broken brick walls. You can feel the cool breeze as it wafts in a glassless window, and you squint in the brightness of the sunlight. The distant roar of the ocean and the laughs of children playing outside fill your ears. It is a sensory experience like few others, and although you have your camera, you know it would never begin to capture this moment.

Now imagine that you're in that same place as it is being renovated. You stand in the same spot, breathing the fresh air and marveling at the blueness of the sky. You close your eyes and run your hands along the worn railing and cherish the moment....only to open your eyes and have a man in a hardhat standing in front of you with bricks and mortar. A far cry from the regal historic figure you were imagining, he startles you as he pushes past you to replace the broken bricks. As he works, you can do little to stop him from closing in the "window" you so enjoyed and from replacing the dangerously rickety handrails you loved so much. It looks less and less like the same place the longer he works. The old and worn replaced by the new and perfect....the priceless stories replaced by the cheapness of modern industry. Worst of all, the breeze is blocked. The darkness is closing in on you, and as you stand by the diligently working construction worker, all you can do is remember what you once cherished. The cool, refreshing breeze. The sharpness of the sunlight as it broke through the darkness. The peaceful and joyous sounds from outside. You can only remember what it was like and hope that maybe you can find that again somewhere, sometime.

That's where I am. I had such a clear view of God - who He was and what He's like - once before, but somehow I've lost that picture. I've lost my unimpeded view of it all and I can only remember what it was like. I remember the cool breeze on my face and the warmth of the sun. I remember the joy and the hope of a moment that would never end. I remember that, but I can't get it back. It's like I have to somehow find another precious spot, another way to get to Him now. I can't go back the way I came, and I can't find Him in the same place I did before. I've changed and it has changed and it wouldn't be the same anyway. I find consolation, though, knowing that when I find Him again...when I again feel that closeness to Him...HE will be exactly the same. I'm a different person and we'll meet in a different place, but He, at least, will be the same as He was the last time we met.

Broken By The Fall

A beautiful woman.
Precious and loved.
She has it all, and she has the One.
She runs, laughs, and loves.
Her eyes are filled with beauty and freedom
as she lives the life intended.
She lives with the One
and the first
and with disbelief.
Believing what He says is too much.
Her disbelief is her weakness, and she strives for truth.
She strives for more.
She strives for a life of her own.
So she climbs.
One offer, one acceptance, one bite.
One lie, one belief, and one life changed forever.
Striving has left her with nothing,
and her empty hands reach for more.
Cast out, punished, scorned.
Still in disbelief,
she runs, covers, and flees.
Her eyes are filled with shame and tears.
Naked and vulnerable, hiding and afraid.
She is broken by the fall.

There is another.

A beautiful woman.
Precious and loved.
She lives a life with it all.
She runs, laughs, and loves.
Her eyes are filled with beauty but she dreams of freedom
and of living the life intended.
She lives with disbelief.
A disbelief that is not unique to her.
A disbelief passed down.
A disbelief that enslaves her.
She strives for more.
She strives for a life of her own.
So she climbs.
A little higher, a little more, a little different.
One lie, one belief, and another life changed forever.
Striving has left her with nothing,
and her empty hands reach for more.
Still in disbelief,
she runs, covers, and flees.
Her eyes are filled with shame and tears.
Naked and vulnerable, hiding and afraid.
She is broken by the fall.

Here We Go Again

This week is off to a bad start.

I got up yesterday morning with the full intention of returning to work with the rest of the world, following a great Thanksgiving weekend that should have left me rejuvenated and refreshed. However, after being up for a little while, I felt that same old feeling again. The feeling that makes me think, "What am I doing? I can't do this." So I didn't. Scott left for work, and I stayed right where I was, hidden under the covers in the security of my bed. I stayed there most of the day, waking up only long enough to start feeling bad again and then falling asleep again, to a restless and dreamful sleep. Lots of bad dreams, about things I should have done and regrets about my entire life. The bad thoughts I had when I woke up, though, were bad enough to make me want the dreams again. I don't know what's going on, exactly, but I know I don't want this again. I don't want this anymore.....yet I've relived yesterday again today. And tomorrow? We can only hope that I'll be lured outside of these walls to face the world.

Thanksgiving was great, though. Lots of family time and lots of laughter. I needed that.

Guilt, Not Shame

That's my new mantra. The difference between the two was explained to me yesterday, and I think it really makes sense where I am. Guilt is feeling badly - disappointed, embarrassed - about something that was done, while shame is feeling badly about yourself. That really resounded with me. I can feel badly that I did something, which will hopefully lead me to confession and repentance, or I can feel bad about myself for something that I did. What I do is not who I am, as Paul is so wonderful to explain, and it doesn't make any sense to think of myself as a bad or unworthy person simply because something I did was less that wonderful. I think it comes back to the idea that when we refuse to forgive ourselves for something, it's like we're saying that yes, sure, God can forgive us, but He doesn't know the whole story. If He did, He certainly wouldn't think of forgiving us. That makes me laugh. That's essentially saying, "I'm worthless, but I know more than God." Ha! I do that all the time, and it's probably the most contradictory thing I could do. Place myself in a position of lowliness, but in a position that's somehow higher than God. Ridiculous. So guilt is a good way to think, as long as it's holy guilt that brings us closer to the Lord and leads to conviction in our hearts. Shame is another story. Shame says, "God doesn't know what He's talking about. He can't love me, because look at who I am." Guilt remembers that our actions and our identities are separate. Guilt remembers that God loves us for who we are, not what we do.

One Giant Leap

You'll never believe it....I'm actually at work today. It took me several hours to get here, just thinking about things and reassuring myself that it's going to be okay and that I can do this. I feel good, too. I feel good getting back to the place, at least, where I should be, even if I'm not fully with it yet. My boss told me to take it easy today, to get back into the routine by checking and returning the bazillion emails and phone messages I had waiting for me, and then tomorrow I'm going to start working hard again. It's going to be okay.

Today is Scott's birthday, so we have the family coming over for dinner tonight. I made his favorite chicken dish and a huge banana pudding last night so all I have to do is make the rice and salad and bread tonight. Hm....that still actually sounds like a lot.

I'm going to get going on ny emails and phone messages. There are a lot.

More Random Thoughts

Let's see......today I feel....strange. I got up this morning with every intention of going back to work. My intentions meant nothing to my mind, which devided about halfway through my getting dressed that I was unworthy to present myself to the world and that work was not such a good idea after all. So I'm at home. Again.

The weird thing is that I really WANT to go back to work. Once I go back, though, I'll get tired...and will wish for time off...and will all too soon forget this month-long sabbatical I've been on.

And I've definitely decided that scrapbooking is for me. I've been backing up ALL of our digital pictures and putting them on disks, and in the process I look at all of them and relive memories and want so badly to go ahead and get copies of them all made so that I can get my library of albums going. It's going to be great. You inspired me to do this, Becca, by the way. Even if I don't use *snap*<><.

This weekend I have to get my house ready to have Scott's whole family come for his birthday next week. They all live here in town, so it's not like they're going to be spending the night here or anything (good thing, since the only bed we have is our own). They're all coming for dinner, though, which I'm cooking myself. I've done it for my family, and I threw a bridal shower with lots of tasty treats, but dinner is different....especially for his family. His mom and sister are great cooks, so I'm a little intimidated. I've always been told, growing up and all, that cooking isn't exactly my forte, especially since my little sister is just about a culinary genious and I melted one plastic bowl (ONE PLASTIC BOWL) when I was like 7. I have it in my mind now that I don't belong in the kitchen, so it's scary to put myself on the spot and make a whole dinner for people I'm trying to impress. They like me fine.....but cooking for them is different somehow. Anyway, that's going to be Monday night. If anyone has a dynamite recipe for banana pudding, let me know.

I have a bridal shower to go to tonight, for a couple from our church. It should be interesting. She grew up in a tight-knit Catholic community but has pretty much left the Catholic church, from anything I understand, but some ladies from her church where she grew up are holding the shower. A bunch of us Quest-ers are going to stick together, lest we stick out too badly. Safety in numbers. (Does that sound bad? We just don't know what to expect.)

I think that's pretty much it. Not to mention that my poor cat has gotten extremely restless laying on my lap. I think she's trying to tell me it's time to get up. Inspired by Becca once again, I have written a completely random and probably not very interesting post for you. Sorry about that.

Bad Day

Today is a bad day. Different things happened this weekend to make me down on myself again, when I had been doing well and had completely intended to return to work this morning. I wanted to go and needed to go and almost looked forward to it....but then I got hit again with the same doubts and fears and self-loathing and couldn't bring myself to face the world. Knowing, somehow, that I wasn't expected to get up and go made it easier to NOT get up and go, so I stayed in bed after Scott went to work. I feel guilty when I do that, but I still somehow can't make myself get up. It's that hiding feeling again, and I hate it. I hate that when my phone rings I ignore it and when I know there's a voicemail there I don't listen to it. I hate that I cringe when I check my email because I'm afraid there's going to be a message from someone wanting me to get together with them. I hate that when I'm surrounded by people the only thing I can think is how I'm not as _____ as someone else or I'm not _____ enough or how everyone is thinking that I'm ____. I hate that. I know my thoughts are too centered in what I feel and not enough in what I know, but sometimes the things I know to be true are still so uncertain. I don't know what I know. I need some help with this. I actually really prayed yesterday afternoon. I was driving back from somewhere that had brought on an onslaught of negative thoughts about myself, and I just finally turned off the radio in the car and talked to God. I was honest with Him about my fears and my doubts and all of the reasons I'm mad at myself and the world.... It felt good. I got home, though, and got a headache and lay down for awhile....for a restless nap filled with those dreams that are irritating and panicky and so real that when you wake up you can't separate dream from reality. My mindset for the rest of the evening was all off. And it's still off today. I'm so restless. So fearful and so negative. This isn't me, and I don't want to be like this any more.

Not Much To Say

I'm feeling so....blah....today. Groggy, like I haven't had enough sleep, but I know that's far from the truth. It's been dreary and kinda rainy here the past couple of days, so that might be part of it. There's also the dread of re-entering the world.....

I've decided I need a hobby. I worked on a little scrapbook the other night of the letters people wrote me from when I went on the Walk to Emmaus, and that was so cathartic for me. (I love and cherish those letters, by the way. As I re-read them, I started feeling all warm and loved and so grateful for the relationships God has placed in my life.) I told Scott that I could get very much back into the scrapbooking thing, and he was like, "That's okay, it'll be good for you," and then I explained that I'll have to get copies of all of the pictures we have stored on our computer. He's not really sure about the Snapfish thing, in case you're wondering. He's leery of credit card information being on the internet, which I can kinda understand, but I also have to think about all of the millions of people who do it every day with no problem. I'm working on him, though, so maybe we can get on there soon and have all kinds of pictures in hard copy for me to work with. (And for you all to see!)

My friend Melissa called me last night, and it was so, so good to talk to her. She was in my wedding, and neither of us have been really good about keeping in touch since then (shame on me) but we talked and talked as if no time had passed. I love that. Why do we take our friendships for granted? It's like we forget how hard it is to make good friends and we think that we can just go out anytime and find a perfect match for our souls. Not so, and I need reminding of that so that I don't get lazy and let things slide.

On an unrelated note, please pray for me. I'm having an issue, which I'll spare you the details of because it's not really for general audiences, but I need reassurance and peace. I'll leave it at that.

Up and Down We Go....

....or at least, up and down I go, and I'm afraid I drag Scott and all of you along with me for the highs and lows. For what it's worth, thank you for being there. =)

It's been an interesting couple of days since I wrote last. My weekend was okay. Spent the day just hanging out with Scott on Saturday - ran some errands, had lunch with my parents, had a long sleepy nap on the couch. It was really nice, and Sunday morning I actually felt good. No panic, no stress....just anticipation of a great service at church and just worshiping the Lord and resting in Him for a little while since it's so hard for me to do that at home somehow. It was great, and afterwards Scott and I were supposed to go to the fair with my mom, sister, and brother in law. Well, it took forever to get everyone together to leave church. (I call it Smith inertia - as in, an object in motion stays in motion and an object at rest stays at rest. It takes my family forever to get going to do anything, but then good luck getting us to stop. It's a weird and frustrating phenomenon.) When I say forever, I really mean only like 45 minutes, but still - that's a long time. I was in the lobby area and there were still tons of people there and everyone was talking and crowded around and I needed to get out so I headed for the door for some fresh air and waited for everyone else outside. They finished up what they were doing and came out, and my mom said something about figuring out where we were going (to eat) so that we could get moving. I said, "Well, I'm going CRAZY." They looked at me funny, and I kinda flipped - I said I had to get out of there and needed to breathe and just couldn't stand being there anymore and that I could feel a panic attack starting. My sister and Mark (her husband - it's easier to write about people by name!) started going, "UhOh.....better back up. I think I'm going to get away from this...." and were walking backwards away from me and kinda laughing kinda...... Scott walked outside at that moment and I kinda rushed him - took my stuff from him because he had been holding it - and said "I NEED TO GO HOME." He was all confused, because he had been inside and knew nothing of the situation I was in, and chased me kinda out to my car, with me saying, "I want to go home. I just want to go home," the whole time and him saying, "Jess, can you just talk to me please?" over and over. We got to my car and I told him what Ashley and Mark had done....he got all mad because he said it wasn't my fault for getting upset at all because they are the people I go to and depend on for support and then they almost make fun of it and in any case, even if that's not what they intended, they were pretty careless in their treatment of me in that moment. We came home and I curled up in Scott's lap and cried for the longest time. The thing is, that was just so much worse than it seems. It would have hurt anyone, I think, for someone to be made fun of in that way, but it did me so much more. I've been working for the longest time now to get myself to a place where I can be real about this with people - where I don't feel like I have to hide it and can talk about it and get it out in the open and ask for prayer and really let people know what's going on and, basically, stay out of the stained glass masquerade. It's taken me so long, and I was doing so well with it. I told people at Bible study the other night and have been more open in how I talk about it....and then they do that and the message I hear, whether it's what they intended or not, was, "Don't talk to people about this. It's too private and personal and they're going to laugh because no one can understand because no one has this problem but you." Truly, knowing Ashley and Mark I know that's not what they intended. I know they were probably trying to lighten the mood and were probably trying to get me to smile....never having witnessed one of my attacks they probably didn't know what to do or how to handle it. I understand that. I just wish they had done something else. I wish their words had been more along the lines of, "What can we do to help you right now?" I know they meant well - I don't believe that they intended to send me away weeping and crying and to make me miss the trip to the fair that I had so been looking forward to and so needed..... I know that. And still, it hurt. I'm not mad. Just hurt, you know? And now I have to move forward again, because in that one moment, I moved backward, away from what I've been working toward for awhile. I felt bad, too, because that was the first time I had one of my panic attacks in public....I felt very vulnerable and a lot of people saw me....my pastor thought I was mad at Scott from the way I was kinda talking sternly and walking away from him. (Not away from him, but away from the situation.....) I hate to think what they think now..... The stained glass masquerade comes into effect now, too, as I fear the repercussions of letting the real me show.

I had my first appointment with my counselor today, though, and that has me optimistic. She was really, really nice, and I think I'm going to like her a lot. She's going to be tough on me, though, just because she has to be to get me better, because she told me that I do need to go see a psychiatrist because the way I describe my panic attacks sound, to her, almost like little seizures and that my medicine I'm on now obviously isn't working if I'm still having those episodes and haven't been to work in so long. (Long sentence. Sorry.) She's going to be on my side, though, to help me work toward healing.... We talked about so many things and I feel like she hit on a lot of my problems. I'm defintely going to keep going to her, but I know that real progress won't be easy unless my medicine is right. So I guess I'm going to make a psych appointment....I'm still scared about that, but Karla (my counselor) told me that I don't necessarily have to mention anything spiritual in nature to them if I'm afraid of how they'll hear it. She said my attacks are so physiological that I can keep my description on that stuff and they'll know plenty to be able to help me. I still don't want to go, but I trust her and I trust Scott and they say it's going to be okay.

Scott and I went to my office for a little while after my appointment. I talked to my boss, who has been so wonderful about all of this, and everyone there was so glad to see me.....I cried as I hugged them all. It's so wonderful to work in a Christian place with people who are so genuinely caring and loving. I don't know if I could work anywhere where faith had to be in the background after having this kind of experience. And I know God had me going through this particular valley now, while I'm "working" there, for a reason. They're perfect for me now. I may even be able to go back to work soon.

Things are up.....but they're down, too. Aren't they always? I'm still so confused. Whenever I feel good, I feel so fragile, too, like that's subject to change at any moment. It's all so up and down. I have hope, though, that it's going to get better. Hope is all I can ask for.

On One Hand....But On The Other Hand..... Contradictory Thoughts from Jess

I'm sitting at the computer with my sweet Kitter on my lap. She cried at the door until I let her in, and since then has been discontent anywhere but on top of me. It would be annoying if it weren't so sweet. (I know somewhere in my mind that she's probably just cold, since it's like 40 degrees outside and we don't have our heat on yet. I still choose to believe that she just wants to be close to me and loves me for who I am......and not because I'm a warm lap.)

I'm feeling okay today. I'm a little pensive because I know the day is coming when it is no longer okay with my boss to recuperate at home and I'll have to return to work, and I know that day will bring anxiety and stress. I do have an appointment on Tuesday with a counselor - a Christian family counselor who is also a Presbyterian minister - and I'm tentatively excited about that. I know it's going to be good for me, but I have to expect that it's going to bring some self-discovery that might not be easy. I know I need to do this, though, and I'm glad to have a professional on my team.

Last night I taught our Bible study on the 5 love languages - if you haven't read that book, you should. It's great. Anyway, I taught the lesson for all of us and will continue to do so until the book is finished. When prayer time came, my brother in law asked if they should all still be praying for me and my issues.....I told him thanks for asking but I was trying not to mention it since we had some new people at the group and I wasn't entirely thrilled about getting that real quite yet.....but I told them all what's going on (pretty much everything, but I spared them gory details) and asked them to pray for me. As I was talking about it I realized they were all probably confused because what I'm dealing with doesn't manifest itself in times like that....it rears its ugly head when I'm alone at home or facing some sort of a public excursion. It occurred to me that it probably always looks like I'm making it up since it doesn't look like that to people who see me. I do try to put on a pretty public face and truth be told, a lot of times I do feel great out like that. I get to laughing about things and forget what's going on, but then I get home and it's like it's waiting for me here. It's strange. Scott said that's why no one saw it coming for me to struggle like this and why people like his dad are having such a hard time understanding - because it doesn't fit with the "me" they see and how I always seem to be when they see me. It's a weird thing. I asked Scott last night why I'm two faced - halfway joking but halfway serious - and he assured me that that's not what I am. I don't get quite what's going on with me, but I'm eager to figure it out and be able to talk about it as a past victory.

I'm excited about the weekend. Supposed to go to the fair with my sister and her husband, so that'll be fun, and church Sunday will supposedly tell me how I can know God's will for my life. It's going to be a good weekend, and I'm not going to think about what next week might bring.

Strength and Confusion in Weakness

Another day. Yesterday I was bold - I went out, alone, which doesn't happen much anymore. I think one of the hardest things about this whole struggle is the feeling of lost independence, of a new weakness that I always prided myself I didn't have. I want to be independent. I think there is always this image we want others to have of us, regardless of how close it is to reality, that we maybe allow ourselves to believe is true. Mine was of strength and independence. I wanted people to think I was strong. To see me as a picture of faith and feminine strength. That's who I want to be, and that's exactly who I feel that I am not. I am weepy. I am delicate, like a flower, and crush easily. I need people, and I often depend on their strength to carry me. This is not who I want to be. I know there is a certain strength that is implied by someone who admits their own weaknesses and is willing to address them, but I feel like I am somehow beyond that. I feel like everyone looks at me and shakes their heads, wanting to say something to me about what's going on but not wanting me to break and for it to be their responsibility when I become a sniffly mess. I just want to be strong again. I think I was there once, and it's been lost in this crazy maze of darkness and confusion. I asked Scott the other night if he thought I was weak or crazy, and his answer touched me so because I felt like he saw my heart.... He said, "No, I think you're confused. I think you're hearing a lot of different ideas of who you are and you need to pick one and believe it. I think you need someone to help you make that decision." It was so true, so real, and so refreshing. Someone saw me....and as it turned out, he didn't think it was weakness he saw but someone confused and mystified by a choice that we all have to make. He saw me. That was nice, and I think that's a big reason I married him. He gets me. He doesn't ask questions because he doesn't have to. He gets me and loves me the same. That doesn't happen every day.

Unless you count Jesus. He does just that. Why is it so much harder to get that? Why can I adore Scott and be so grateful for the way he loves me and take it for granted that the Lord loves me even more than that? Ugh. Sometimes I cringe at my humanity.

The Real Me

Foolish heart looks like we're here again
Same old game of plastic smile
Don't let anybody in
Hiding my heartache, will this glass house break
How much will they take before I'm empty
Do I let it show, does anybody know?

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I'm loosening my grasp
There's no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

Painted on, life is behind a mask
Self-inflicted circus clown
I'm tired of the song and dance
Living a Charade, always on parade
What a mess I've made of my existence
But you love me even now
And still I see somehow

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I'm loosening my grasp
There's no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

Wonderful, beautiful is what you see
When you look at me
You're turning the tattered fabric of my life into
A perfect tapestry
I just wanna be me

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I'm loosening my grasp
There's no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

And you love me just as I am

Wonderful, Beautiful is what you see
When you look at me

-Natalie Grant

Baby Steps

Last night was hard and wonderful at the same time. When Scott came home I didn't even have to tell him that I didn't go to work yesterday (again)...his dad had stopped by my office to make a donation or something and saw I wasn't there...he called Scott and asked where I was...Scott was a little flustered because until that moment he didn't know I was at home... I had wanted to keep Scott's family blissfully unaware of what is going on with me, just because I feel kinda like I'm still in the phase of trying to make a good impression and trying to fit in with them. I don't know how they'll understand or how they'd react if they all knew...but I guess I'm going to find out soon enough. In all reality, it'll be fine and it'll probably be some sort of a relief to have them all know, so I don't have to be all plastic around them, but at the same time I don't want everyone treating me like I'm weak and sick and fragile. I don't want to be pampered. Anyhow, Scott knew I couldn't stay there in the house last night or I'd keep thinking about it all and would probably cry all night, which is obviously not very helpful. He made me put my shoes on and took me out on a little date, just like nothing was wrong. He took me to Putt-Putt (miniature golf, for those of you without Putt-Putt) and to IHOP.... It was so sweet. It got my mind off of it for a while, which was much-needed, but then as we waited for our French toast I started thinking about it again. I'm really having a hard time with this, y'all. I'm going to get over it, I know, but until then.... I sent an email to my boss last night and explained things as best as I could, just because I needed her to know as much as she could and I needed her to know that I'm not making this up somehow. She sent me the name of a Christian counselor she knows and also the name of a lady she knows who's a psychologist and prays with people for healing.... I've called the counselor already. Left a message, so the ball is at least out of my court now. I guess this is progress. I don't feel like I've done much, but I know it's going to take a lot of little baby steps to climb over this mountain.