Waiting

Waiting is something everyone has to do, from the time of birth to the time of death. Sometimes waiting is predictable - like waiting for your birthday or Christmas to arrive. Other times it's unpredictable - like waiting for customer service to pick up. Sometimes it's over a long span of time - like graduating college. Other times it's short - like waiting in line at a fast food restaurant.

But having to wait is inevitable, occurring hundreds of times each day. 

Right now I'm waiting to find out the options available for my mother upon discharge from the hospital, which could happen as early as today. 

In an ideal world, going home would be the top choice, but she's really weak from fighting a post-surgery infection and I'm really weak from trying to take care of her while still managing the rest of my life. I don't know that she can come home and stay safe because there just aren't enough people who can take care of her at the moment.

I have plans this week - doctor appointments, church groups, and work - that I need to adjust depending on what options we have and what we decide. It's the uncertainty... the knowing that what I can do depends on information I don't have yet... that's killing me right now. I just want to have enough information so I can work out plans for the rest of the week.

But I can't.

All I can do is continue to wait.

Caregiving is HARD! (Especially When the Caregiver has Physical and Emotional Issues Already)

I've been a partial caregiver for my parents for years. However, the majority of that time, they were mostly independent, sometimes to their detriment. (Doing too much led to some of the issues we are facing today.) The only time I was really called upon to help in everyday life was for small things, like helping my dad put on his diabetes monitor or assisting mom with hard to reach zippers.

The times they needed more extensive help were after each of their many hospital visits. I was usually the one who spent the most time at the hospital, arranged follow-up doctor appointments, helped to fill out paperwork, etc. I have three brothers who were involved, but when they came to the hospital, they sat and visited instead of really helping with their care - and when each of my parents was discharged, a lot of the care fell on me since we all lived together.

After my dad passed a year and a half ago, I've had to do more and more for my mom in everyday life, but she has still been pretty independent. I suspected that this latest surgery my mom had would lead to doing much more than what I've needed to do before, but there was a part of me that hoped I was overreacting. 

It turns out I was right. 

In fact, it was worse than I imagined.

As much as we love and are thankful for the doctors who did the very involved surgeries she needed, they didn't help with the reality of recovery. In fact, they didn't mention what the recovery would be like at all. But I don't blame them... I really think a surgery this rare has never been done before on a woman of my mother's age. No one knew what would happen. 

Let me explain what the past two months have been like - and what surgeries I'm talking about.

It all started on June 5th. After hearing about this one-of-a-kind doctor, we had to wait a couple of months for this date to come. Mom and I were collectively holding our breath, thinking at any minute that he would say the surgery was too dangerous, too complicated, just too much for an 87-year-old with all of her physical issues.

It turned out that she was seeing the only doctor in Alabama who would even discuss doing this kind of surgery on her.

Backstory: My mom had crushed her elbow in a fall when she was 6-years-old. She found out about elbow replacements in her 50's. Still somewhat rare then, this replacement had gone well... at first.

Then it broke. 

In 2014, she had a second elbow replacement, with a surgeon at the time who was the only one who would attempt that procedure. The surgery went well but he told her after her recovery that if something happened to it, there was nothing that could be done. There was too little bone left to attach the prosthesis to in the future.

Early this year, she fell and broke it again. She went for months dealing with horrible pain because she thought there was nothing that could be done. That is, until she found Dr. Smith at UAB and made that wonderful June 5th appointment.

Dr. Smith laid it all out. He admitted that he wasn't sure how to do it but he had several ideas in mind. He explained the options and after scheduling a follow-up visit, he told us that he would use the time until that appointment to talk to some of his colleagues around the country and get their input.

There were several ups and downs between that visit and the first surgery but we made it. We were told she would need to spend one or two nights in the hospital before going home. I told them I thought we'd probably stay at least three.

I was right.

But what was really disappointing was that it wasn't even a longer stay because the surgery was more complex than they thought. Well, actually it was more complex than they thought. Much, much more complex. So much so that they decided they had to do it in two stages.

In the first - that initial surgery - they would take out all of the old elbow replacement hardware. Then, at some point in the future, they would put in a total shoulder/humerus/elbow replacement. Where the first surgery was a couple of hours, the second would be much, much longer... ending up with her being about 8-9 hours under anesthesia. 

This time they said she would stay in the hospital two or three days. I said it would be longer.

I was right - again.

She was in the hospital and then a rehab hospital for 20, yes 2...0 days. I stayed with her in the hospital every day and night, only going home twice to take a shower. Though I didn't spend the night, I stayed with her in the rehab hospital all day, every day, with the exception of one right before she went home.

It was exhausting. It was draining. It was HARD.

However, it was nothing compared to when she finally got home. 

My mom has a condition called ulcerative colitis. In her case, it causes diarrhea and makes her need to go to the bathroom often and very quickly after eating. In other words, she often didn't make it. 

Furthermore, did I mention that the surgery was done on the arm of her dominant hand? She had no use of her right arm and hand at first, due to major swelling and not being able to move her shoulder at all. Plus, it was difficult for her to use her left arm/hand.

I'm not a very patient or selfless person. I was a teacher - not a nurse. Teachers need these traits but it's totally different. However, I love my mom and would do anything for her. I tried to make myself become what I needed to be to take care of her.

Have I said it was HARD?

I'm sure it's hard on anyone, but you add back pain, anxiety issues, bipolar swings, auto-immune flare-ups and other similiar things to the mix, and it's HARD. 

But I did it - somehow. Still, I'll be soooo glad when she's able to be somewhat independent again.

Happy Birthday, Jack

 Last fall my sponsor, mentor and one of my best friends passed away. Today was his birthday. We hardly ever celebrated each others' birthdays on the actual days but we always tried our best to celebrate them in some fashion.

The main way we would mark the occasion was to eat either Chinese buffet or Japanese steakhouse meals. It was a special treat and a fun way to spend time together, especially when we went to a Japanese steakhouse and had them cook it in front of us.

This morning I looked at my calendar and saw his birthday at the top of my items listed for the day. It's the first birthday in about seven years where I didn't at the very least get to call him and wish him a happy birthday.

As we are both Christians, my hope is that this is the best birthday he's ever had - one where he's not in pain, where he's not dealing with his addiction that so affected his life, where he's not living alone in a house he had a hard time taking care of as he grew older. 

But I've been mourning all day. I miss him incredibly. My husband and I went to a Chinese buffet and ate in his memory. It wasn't the same, of course. 

So... happy birthday, Jack. I'm so thankful that you were a part of my life. I miss you.

I love you, big brother!

Being Part of the "Sandwich Generation" is Hitting a New Level

I'm 57 years old. My mother was 30 when she had me and I was 31 when I had my daughter. So we weren't exactly "young'uns" when we each had our daughters. 

If you haven't done the math, that makes my mom 87 and my daughter 26. Previous blogs have chronicled the health issues my mom has as well as some of the mental and physical issues my daughter has. I've also recently written a lot about my daughter's move back home.

For those new to this blog, the short version is that four people live in this house - my mother, my husband, my daughter and me. ALL of us have auto-immune disorders, mental health issues, financial struggles, and strong personalities. 

Let me sum up some of the extra challenges I have during this phase of my life.

For most in my age bracket whose parents and/or children still live with them, it's their house. In my case, it's my mom's. I went through a major job loss and career change not quite a decade ago and in the process, I sold my home and moved myself and my daughter in with my parents (my dad was still alive at the time).

It's a very nice home... it's in an upscale community, with a total of 4 bedrooms, 3.5 baths, a kitchen, dining room, a garage, and two attic spaces right off the 2nd floor (so no pull-down ladder). I'm thankful for that. 

However... the only space that's "mine" is an upstairs bedroom (and I sometimes still have difficulty with stairs, even though overall I'm losing weight and getting stronger) and a study full of what my husband and I need for our photography/writing business. 

Previously, I had 3 rooms - a den/kitchenette (so my husband and I could have some things of our own and not in my parents' kitchen), plus the bedroom and study. We had to move the couch from the den to the bedroom and the apartment fridge into the study, so our already cramped space became even more cramped. 

Here's the real fun right now... my daughter has 4 cats. She won't let them go outside unless they are confined because she has some big anxiety issues about them getting hurt. There is absolutely no space in her bedroom to have a litter box, so we built a "catio" outside her window with a cat door as access. This space has space for them to play, sunbathe, and use the gigantic litter box we included. 

Her bedroom and our study are connected by a small foyer with a bathroom in between the two rooms. We have double swinging doors at the entrance of this area.

I have one cat who goes outside as she pleases through a cat door in the living room window. This means my daughter's cats can't go out into the main house because they might use the cat door to go out. So, to give her cats room to run, each night my daughter lets them out of her room, locking the double doors with a barn door lock. 

This means during those hours, I have to fight my way into and out of my study to make sure none of her four escape. I can't just go in and grab a drink from my fridge or work in the wee hours of the morning (my favorite time to work) because of them. It's been a BIG adjustment.

Before I go on, I want to emphasize that I'm thankful she's here. She was in a toxic relationship and she needed time to heal. Our relationship is better than it's ever been with her here again. With my mom's surgery, it's nice to have someone else in the house to take care of her when needed. 

But that doesn't make it less difficult.

So, going on... my mom just had surgery. When she was a child, she broke her elbow, which never healed properly. About 10 years ago, she finally had an elbow replacement. Then she injured it again - and needed a second elbow replacement. This was rarely done (at least then) and they told her nothing could be done if it was injured a third time.

Well, she fell on her shoulder - where the rod was attached. The rod came out of her humerus bone, causing her a lot of pain. She was still able to use that hand (her dominant hand) and had partial use of her arm but the pain made her seek out help.

She finally found a doctor who would tackle this complicated and risky surgery - the only one in our state that would. We both held our breath every time his office called or we had to go in for an appointment, thinking that at any point he would say it couldn't be done.

We were wrong. It was done.

However, when the surgeon got in there to fix it, he said that the old hardware was "rattling around." None of the several options he had planned on were able to be completed within that one surgery. Any additional time under anesthesia could be fatal (and I'm not being dramatic.)

Midway through the surgery, the doctor called for a conference with my brothers and me to tell us the news - and to ask our permission to do the plan he had mentioned briefly but never really thought he'd have to do. 

The only real option was to do the procedure in stages... the first being the surgery that day, which meant taking all the old hardware out. Then he wanted to wait about a month for her arm to heal somewhat (they had to cut a bone to get the lower part out) before doing the second surgery.

What none of us had planned on was the impact this change would make. She was supposed to be able to use her arm within a few days of the first surgery. Now she can't use it at all until the second surgery - there's nothing holding her lower arm to her upper arm. 

It's the little things that make life so difficult. She can't open a jar of medicine to take a pain pill. She can't carry anything because she had to switch from a rollator walker, one that has a seat that she used to carry items, to a cane. She can't make a cup of coffee in the morning as she can't open the creamer she loves. 

Plus, there's so much more that she either struggles with or can't do now.

Currently, my business is practically dead. This is a wonderful thing because she needs someone around all the time, but it means one more month of taking money out of what was supposed to be for retirement. 

The hardest thing for me is how I'm always torn. If I'm helping her, I feel I should be working. If I'm working, I feel I should be helping her. I have to arrange for someone to be here when my husband and I are gone to a physical therapy session (the result of when we were rear-ended and my car was totaled) or a doctor's appointment. It's really difficult to go to the YMCA to work out. I've even had to miss church.

This challenge multiplies on the many days my back is hurting. One example is when bending over to help her dress, as there's a lot of strain on my back. 

Like I did with my daughter, I also want to emphasize that I'm glad I get to be here for her. The other option would probably be some type of rehab center, an incredibly expensive option where she would be miserable not being able to be at home.

Even though I'm thankful I get to have my daughter back home and I am able to take care of my mother when she needs me, it's just plain ol' hard. I don't know how those of you out there who do this kind of thing with much, much more intensity - like having several children with disabilities, or having both parents going downhill fast, or fostering children who have come out of rough situations - make it.

I guess we all just have to live day by day (sometimes minute by minute) and do the best we can. At least that's what I'm trying to do.

 

An Email to the Pastors of My Church About True Community

(Note that I've changed names in this post - and that it was written during an early morning weekly prayer time where one person shares, then we divide up and pray, and then we pray together. I wrote this during the individual prayer time. Also, it has taken me a while to post it. I wanted to really think about whether it should  be posted - and to give those I sent it to time to react. Before you even read it, I want you to know that both of my pastors came to me separately and apologized. They each acknowledged that they dropped the ball on this and they would work on ways to hopefully make this less likely to happen to others in the future.)

This might not be the best use of time for prayer - and this wasn't my intention when I came this morning - but what our speaker this morning said touched on something I've been debating on bringing up.

You both know how much I love this church. I also think you both know that I was pretty much dedicated to never going to church again just over a year ago (other than Deaf Church, and that was to practice sign language more than being "at church"). While covering the K-Love Fan Awards Weekend last year (the weekend before first coming here), God did a work in me and I had a desire to find a church. I had no idea where to start but when I googled it, this church jumped off the screen at me. When I watched a video of a service I pretty much knew.

It took maybe 15 minutes for me to fall in love when I first came June 2, 2024. This church ticked off almost every box that I had prayed about in the past (before I gave up on church). There wasn't a doubt that I knew I supposed to attend this church.

And I was right. It is an amazing church. I believe that God is doing great things here. 

But I recently had something happen that made me have to fight a battle on whether I could stay or go back to where I was before - being so hurt that I couldn't get past it - giving up on the idea of church again.

I think you both know about my daughter moving back home - I've shared about it in several prayer requests. Well, she doesn't have anyone who could help her move and other than at church, my husband and I don't know many in the area (one issue with freelancing). The few friends we have are either older or live far away. We couldn't afford to hire anyone. Those in my family have various health issues that kept them from helping. 

On top of that, a few weeks ago my husband and I were rear-ended and my Santa Fe was totaled. I had planned to use it extensively during the move. The wreck caused my back issue to get worse as well as it causing other, new physical issues. My husband, who was driving, also got banged up also with back and neck issues.

I've known for a while that it was going to come down to only my husband, my daughter and me to do the move. My daughter and I have back issues and can't pick up anything heavy. We also both have issues with stairs (and the attic where most of her stuff was going to go is at the top of a long flight of stairs.)

So, mostly the entire move was on my husband - whose back was also hurt during the wreck.

I shared this with my small group, fully expecting help. After all, I thought that was what small group was for. 

Only one replied, but later had to cancel. 

I happened to share it with a friend at church, who shared it with her small group, and she had one in her group volunteer to help for a little bit. The one who canceled from my small group ended up being able to help with one load the last night we had to get everything out. 

But other than that, nada. 

Oh - I shared this with the worship team and a few others I know at church, practically saying I was desperate for men and trucks. I knew how hard it would be on me (who would try to do too much and strain my back even more than it already is) and my daughter (same issue). But mostly I knew how hard it would be on my husband, literally carrying the bulk of the load, going up and down the stairs with multitudes of boxes and small pieces of furniture. (Thank God there wasn't a lot of big furniture). 

For a church that I know loves people and loves to serve, why wasn't there anyone who would help us? I assumed that my small group would help... I even thought they would come full-force and really help us knock it out. 

I know that I have a lot of crap that I deal with - and share. For a while I've been wondering if (1) those in my small group are tired of hearing it and so they dismiss what I share or (2) if they don't believe me and think I'm making all this up for attention. 

The lack of help for the move made me wonder even more if this is true.

I'll be honest - I'm hurt. I'm frustrated. And I thought about leaving. However, I know that God has us here so leaving isn't an option. 

I've been planning to share all this with you since the move (about 2 weeks ago) but I've been holding back and trying not to share about my life for the reasons above. However, about a week ago, I told our marriage counselor about what happened and he encouraged me to tell you.

I still love this church. I used to love my small group. I'll be honest again - now I have a hard time trusting them. I feel that they don't have my back - and I thought that was the main reason for small groups to exist. 

Like the speaker this morning said, I know our church isn't perfect. I know the individuals who make up the church aren't perfect. I definitely am not. 

But this was rough. Having my daughter move back in with us is an extreme change. The physical move messed us up physically and emotionally and adjusting to her being here is an adjustment like no other. My husband and I basically lived in 3 rooms before - a den/kitchenette, a study (which is filled with all of our equipment as well as big desks for the large monitors we need when editing), and a bedroom. Now we live in 2 rooms - a bedroom/den (we moved the couch in there) and the study. My dresser is in the landing at the top of the stairs as is our bedroom/den. It hurts to climb the stairs, so I hang out at my desk way more than I should.

Even though it's a huge change, there were no other options and we will do anything to keep her from being homeless. I feel that that God is going to use this time to bring her to Him. But even knowing that, it's still really, really hard.

Most likely there were really good reasons for people not helping. I know everyone is busy and many also have physical issues that prevent helping. 

I don't want pity and I'm working hard to not feel like a victim in all this and the other things that keep happening in my life. I just wanted to be acknowledged. I forgot to mention that not one person even said they couldn't help. Not one asked if there was another way they could help. Not one took me aside to listen to what I was going through. One person at church did tell me last Sunday that my email went to his spam folder and he just happened to find it, so I take it back - there was one... but it was 2 weeks too late. 

Like I said before, I know I share a lot - and I have a lot going on where I need support and prayer. Am I not supposed to share all this? Am I supposed to keep it in and just pray and hope by myself? 

In Matthew West's song, "Truth Be Told," there's one verse that says "There's a sign on the door that says, 'Come as you are,' but I doubt it... 'cause if we lived like that was true, every Sunday mornin' pew would be crowded. But didn't you say Church looks more like a hospital? A safe place for the sick, the sinner, and the scarred... and the prodigal like me." 

I feel this church is one of the closest I've seen to the hospital in this metaphor. But instead of treating everyone, it only treats some. Thinking more about it, I am supported - when I'm growing in my faith journey - not so much when it's a personal, real-life matter.

You know about this blog - "Spotlight on Stigma: Welcomed but Not Accepted." On it, I try to be honest in all the crap I deal with, in all the good, in the struggles and in the victories. But one of my main tenets is to be real. That means sharing what's really going on in my life - good or bad. 

That's who I am - that's one of the things I feel God has called me to do... to be vulnerable so that others know they can also share their hurts and questions and victories. I don't want to have to change who I am to fit in at church. I really thought we were more than that.

By the way, my husband feels the same way.

We love you guys and we still love our church. The joy I had playing guitar with the team last Sunday was real. But so is all of this. We refuse to let something like this get in the way of what we feel God is doing. We just don't know what to do with our feelings.

I Don't Understand What God is Doing (or Isn't)

I wish so much I wasn't affected by my circumstances. There are some who seem rock hard in their faith. Of course, there's a chance they aren't either - they are either good actors or who haven't had a lot happen to them in life. 

Anyway, I wanted to write this post a few days ago, but I never had a moment to sit down and write. I'm glad I didn't because there's been a twist that I didn't see coming (after I also didn't see its origin coming... lots of blindsides lately it feels like.)

My adult daughter just moved back in with my mom, my husband and me. I won't lie... it's been a really rough transition. There's no extra space to put anything. I already felt my space was full - now it's overly full. 

Plus my daughter's cats live in her room and a "catio" (a small enclosure with a top on it so they can go outside safely.) At night she lets them out to play in the area that includes my study/office. I now have to somewhat babyproof that room for those times so I don't come in to a pile of papers on the floor or a book knocked off the shelf. So far nothing has broken, at least, but it makes it even harder to find places to put things.

The cats are also incredibly sweet and loving - which means they cry for me if they hear me working during the day and they want to be held if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to work for a while to get sleepy again. 

There are a lot of adjustments I'm having to make - and it takes me a while to get used to new routines.

But that's not why I'm writing this post though it is a factor in why I'm so discouraged at the moment, which is why I mentioned it.

My daughter has been dealing for several years with various mental and physical, as well as relationship issues, for the past few years. A few months ago she moved in here (like I mentioned earlier). She's been doing a lot better here and is finally able to start working - probably part-time at first but hopefully it will work into full-time so she can get out on her own.

Earlier this week she found what she feels was the perfect job for her. The interview went so well that they offered her a job on the spot. It was really good money, great potential for advancement, and they would accommodate the physical and mental issues she still deals with in the meantime. 

This is something I've been praying for - and asking friends to pray for - for years now. We both were excited when that prayer was answered.

But here's the first twist... it's at a new establishment - a drag queen lounge. 

The really sad thing in my eyes is that she is so adament that this is the first place she's ever felt totally accepted. Isn't the church supposed to be that? But that's not the reason I'm writing now.

I've been torn since she got the job. I don't understand or necessarily agree with that lifestyle, though I won't judge where another person is and what they believe. (This group in particular gets way too much of that as it is.)

And would I consider this an answer to prayer? Would you? I don't know. 

However, I was happy for her. How could I not be? She has wanted for so long to get back out in the workforce or so long but would have a hard time working in most typical envioronments. She wants to start earning money to help with expenses now (and I'm ready for that too as it's not cheap to add another adult to your household - and we were already struggling financially... a lot).

She's been on cloud 9 since the interview, even while having strep throat starting the day after. So what happened a few hours ago has been devastating.

She opened Facebook to find out the woman who would have been her boss, the one who hried her, sharing how she and the rest of the leadership team had basically been scammed. They were fronted the money to pay for a lot of the start-up costs but there's no more money. They didn't waste it. They didn't steal it. It wasn't a real company apparently.

So what do I do with this? Is this now an answer to prayer - that the job would fall through? It's not exactly the kind of job I would prefer her to have. 

I don't understand why she found a job she would love - that would help pay her bills - and then lost it.

I don't understand why my business has dried up... again. So far this month (it's the 12th), I have no, nada, zip amount of income.

I don't understand why my husband can't find a job.

I don't understand why a way to earn a large amount of money fell through when it looked so promising.

I don't understand why I continue to struggle so much financially.

On the flip side, I also don't understand why, after decades of wanting to do so, I'm finally playing guitar again - and on a worship team with my husband to boot.

I don't understand how I have found a church that I love after years of saying I'd never go to a church (other than Deaf Church) again.

I don't understand all the amazing opportunities I've gotten over the past few years... and that I was actually able to author a book.

I don't understand how I met a man who loves me the way I am - fat, with mental and physical health issues, etc - and we got married when he had sworn to be a batchelor all of his life.

I don't understand how I was able to birth a beautiful, talented daughter after years of infertility.

At the moment I'm doubting who God is. But can I give Him praise for the wonderful things that happen and then deny Him for the bad? Are both part of a plan... or is all this meaningless?

It's one of the greatest questions mankind has - and I'm positive of one thing. I won't come up with an answer.

I'll just keep going, and hoping, and trying my best to trust God...

... no matter what He is doing OR isn't.

 

Grateful in Everything?

I am a calendar person. Even though I moved to a Google calendar years ago, I still keep a paper calendar up where I can easily see it.

The main reason I have it is so that I can see the dates the weeks before and weeks after easily. So, other than the birthays and anniversaries I include (because they don't change), even month is a clean slate.

I have used this calendar in several different ways. One year I was pushing fitness - so I had small holographic stars I added each time I did anything physical beyond my normal routine. Another year I used it to keep up with my mood. That year I used sad, happy, and flat (straight lips instead of a smile or frown) emoticon stickers on each day.

Last year I was over all of the thinking that went into the simple task of checking off each day - but I still wanted it to be colorful so I used big holographic stickers in different shapes to make the passage of time (and be able to see "today" at a glance.)

However, several years are filled with 12 months of between 28 and 31 squares of how I'm grateful. 

I've done this general idea different ways through the years. I've kept the typical lists. These were more random... I'm grateful for my big, cosy desk chair; I'm grateful for my nice cameras; I'm thankful for my mom's support. Essentially these were ongoing and almost always involved people or things. 

In my husband's and my bathroom, we currently have a white board where we write what we're grateful for whenever we feel like it - sometimes every day and sometimes once a month. When it's full, we erase a space to put something new.

But there are a few years I've done it by utilizing my wall calendar. This is one of those years.

Every morning as one of my first tasks at my desk, I think back to the day before and find something I'm thankful for about that day. These range from big (like the day I first saw my published book) to almost insignificant (I had nothing scheduled and got to stay home all day).

Sometimes I have to really think about what to write. It's not that there was nothing to be grateful for... instead, sometimes not a lot happened the day before and it takes a minute to come up with something to add. Mostly it's that, due to the brain fog I have from some of my health conditions and meds, there are days it takes a while to even remember all that happened the day before. (Well, that's embarrassing to admit - but this blog is about sharing both the good and the bad.)

I didn't mean for that to be the perfect segue (pronounced segway), but it is.

Let's go to today. It's 6:38am. I got to my desk around 6:15am after not being able to sleep any later due to some pain I'm dealing with. (By the way, it's rough when laying down doesn't relieve your pain - your bed is supposed to be one of your most comfortable spaces!)

As I said before, one of the first things I complete after sitting down is to check off the day before by filling it with something I'm grateful for. 

Yesterday was one of those "nothing special" days. I didn't complete any great projects; I didn't have an amazing interaction with a friend; I didn't get booked for a shoot that could help pay the bills this month. It was a day of catching up on eamails, doing some chores, going to PT, etc.

Like I said, "nothing special."

Then I remembered that I worked out and swam at my local YMCA for the first times in months. Swimming is one of the hardest things to make myself do - but I'm always in a better mood when I get done. (I know that makes no sense, but such is the life of someone with mental health issues.)

I found my grateful aspect of that day.

As soon as I finished and put it back on the wall, I thought of another I could have added. I didn't really think about it at the time because it's not uplifting, not displaying a great moment that happened.

It relates to the pain I mentioned earlier. I have back issues along with other health conditions that can cause pain off and on (like fibromyalgia). In addition, I still have some issues from the car accident three months ago and my falling twice on concrete about a month ago. RLS (restless leg syndrome) and leg cramps complicate the aforementioned problems.

Last night everything hit. My back was killing me by the time I laid down. At first I couldn't fall asleep because of the pain. Meds weren't helping and I didn't know what to do. My husband reminded me we could try an ice pack (for some weird reason I always forget that option). I told him I'd try anything.

He got the extra, extra large cold pack that I use for my shoulder surgery and put it on my back. He also rubbed in some pain relief cream. It didn't take long for these to work and I quickly fell asleep.

Fairy tale ending, huh. 

Nope!

I slept about an hour and when I woke up, not only was my back pain worse, my wrist was hurting (car wreck), and my RLS was in full force. That was bad enough, but after moving into different positions all over our king-sized bed -just trying to get comfortable (my husband was on the couch - the one we moved from our den when our daughter moved in), I got a leg cramp.

Most of the time I don't get regular leg cramps - the ones in one calf that might hurt but don't cause major pain and they go away in a few minutes.

Mine are in any lower extremity muscle from the waist area down (some I didn't even know I have). They are excrutiatingly painful, have lasted up to an hour, and move from muscle to muscle. One will finally release only to have another nearby start cramping. Often it involves both legs at the same time.

Thankfully this was a "normal" leg cramp. It hurt pretty badly and lasted more than a few minutes, but it didn't spread or come right back after it finally released.

But by that point, I was done. I was so tired of hurting. I wouldn't have gone through with it, but I told my husband that I wanted to just take a whole bottle of ibuprofen so the pain would stop completely. I want to clarify that no one needs to set up some kind of intervention - I wouldn't have done it. But I honestly wanted to do anything it took to make the pain stop.

I finally decided on my "last resort" method - taking a bath. I won't go into all the reasons behind this, but taking a bath is difficult right now due to the injuries I've sustained the last few months, thus why I didn't try that first.

It worked. My pain eased and I was able to relax. I quickly fell asleep in the tub and probably slept between three and four hours... in the tub. I would wake up when the water started getting cold, turn on more hot water, and go back to sleep before I knew it. 

When I finally decided to get out, I was able to go to sleep in bed. I woke up early, hurting again, but I got enough sleep to make it today.

So... finally... my realization after writing my grateful thnig from yesterday...

Why do I only include the accomplishments, the amazing moments, the things that are easy to be grateful about?

Writing about my swim wasn't wrong. It was an amazing time and when I think of it, I'm still very grateful.

But, though I'm definitely not grateful for the pain, RLS and leg cramps I have to deal with many nights, there is so much to be grateful for within it.

Some examples:

- my amazing husband, who always drops what he's doing or wakes up to help

- the big tub that's made so well that it's comfortable enough to sleep in (and no, it's not so large that I could drown in it)

- my RLS meds, which don't always prevent them from happening, do help lessen them

- because I'm a freelancer, most days I can schedule down time or even a nap if I've had a night where I didn't sleep much; it means the pressure and stress over not getting enough sleep is much less than in a 9-5 job

- though they haven't figured out how to fix it yet, I have some great doctors who are helping me with the issues that keep me from sleeping

- etc, etc, etc

One reason I try to stay away from social media is because people uaually show their hightlight reels, not the outtakes, the mistakes, and the bloopers. I try my best in this blog to show who I really am, what I'm really thinking (even if it's not PC or something most people would never admit) and both my struggles and my victories.

If I believe so much in that, why don't I do it everyday - with my grateful calendar?

Moving forward, I'm going to challenge myself to do it more - include the good as well as the bad. I hope you will too.

The Sh*t Has Finally Paid Off

Before I get into this post, you need to know these things...

 - I personally don't believe cussing is bad. I do believe that cursing is bad. My opinion is that the word shit is just another word for crap which is another word for feces or manure. They are just words. 

Cursing, on the other hand, is taking God's name and using it in anger.  Yelling "Jesus Christ!" after being cut off or "God damn it!" is very different than voicing either "shit" or "crap" or just "damn" or "dang." 

What it comes down to for me is that it's the attitude and meaning behind what is being said that's the issue, not the words themselves.

So, in this post, I will use the word shit - and I will use it liberally. I could change it to crap or to manure, but I feel "shit" just fits these situations better. As for me using an asterisk in the title, who am I kidding? If you are over 6 years old, you know what I'm really saying, so I'm not covering anything up by doing it that way. I'm just doing it because, well, I don't know why. Maybe because no one would even open this post if that stopped them - before I could even explain.

- For years, decades, I've had issues, obstacles, and, well, shit, come at me. There are times it has been relentless. There are times it has been overwhelming. Some of it isn't that bad from another person's perspective, but the cumulative effect is that each time - tiny or humongous - cumulatively cut me to the core so much that it changed the trajectory of my life. 

My addiction sponsor even noticed it. He has been through a lot of shit himself due to his addiction, even serving seven years in federal prison. Somewhere along the way I heard someone say that the shit truck had dumped another load in his driveway, and my sponsor and I started using that phrase. I would call him and say, "I just got another load," and he knew instantly what I was talking about. 

One time I mentioned to him that I knew that others also had a lot of shit happen to them. I asked if I was just feeling sorry for myself, overexaggerating my issues. He's been around a long time, already in his 70s when he started as my sponsor, and has seen a lot. He agreed that I seem to get more loads than most. 

- A wise man from my addiction group, actually my "grandsponsor" (my sponsor's sponsor), one day shared something really interesting in our support group. His and a friend's grandfathers were "student of shit." He studied how the different types of shit/manure from different animals affected plants.

He wrote about it in our group's newsletter (for which I was the editor and publisher) and allowed me to put it on my blog. You can read it here: https://www.spotlightonstigma.com/2019/09/sht-happens.html

Background done... now as to why I'm writing this. 

In the past decade, God has redeemed a lot of things that I gave up due to the shit that came at me for doing them, or by building a wall up in my heart about them. 

I want to share with you that the shit really does pay off - at least with me. If I hadn't gone through all I've gone through, I wouldn't be where I am now. 

It's funny... my plan was to end this post was to share all of the great things that have happened the past decade. Plus, even though this theme is something I've been meaning to address for months, having originally heard my grandsponsor share it about seven years ago, as I've been writing, I realized something else.

I'm currently dealing with more shit than I have in a while - probably 4 or 5 truckloads in the last few months, one after another. So, before sharing all the good, I was going to write a disclaimer that even though my life is amazing in so many areas - there are still so many that I would love to be different.

But actually all those external signs that you're life is going well - all of the experiences that we want to happen - isn't the real purpose of shit. It's for internal growth... to become more like Jesus. So this massive pile of shit in my own driveway just means that there's more growth coming and hopefully more fruit. 

If I could only remember this when I get that next truckload, the wait to see what it fertilizes would be so much easier - a true perspective changer.

So, as my grandsponsor concluded in his contribution:

"You see sh*t happens for a reason – to have a more productive and fruitful life.  May you find it in your journey."

My Recent Revelation About Depression - Tears and Anger

Disclaimer before I start: I'm not a psychiatrist, therapist or social worker. This is written from my perspective as one who has I've dealt with clinical depression since I was a teenager - over 40 years. I have spent countless hours in psychiatrist's and therapist's offices and have spent hundreds of hours learning on my own about this disease. 

Before we go further, let me share the official criteria to be diagnosed with clinical depression or MDD - Major Depressive Disorder.

Symptoms used to diagnose Major Depressive Disorder (paraphrased from the DSM5) are:

- Depressed mood - sad, empty, hopeless, tearful

- Loss of interest/pleasure

- Significant weight loss/gain or decrease or increase in appetite 

- Insomnia or excessive sleepiness 

- Restlessness or slow movement

- Feeling worthless or excessive/inappropriate guilt

- Problems with concentration, indecisive

- Recurring thoughts of death/suicide

To be officially diagnosed, a person has to exhibit five of the above characteristics nearly every day for at least two weeks.

Now that we have the boring stuff over, let's get to my revelation - a true light-bulb moment that happened earlier this week in my current therapist's (our marriage counselor's) office.

Being depressed is usually associated with crying. In fact, many automatically assume that's the only way depression manifests. There are many days I cry at the drop of a hat. I hate it but it's just the way I'm made. I've tried multitudes of prescription medicines, vitamins and supplements, and like I said earlier, lots and lots and lots of professional and spiritual help. 

I'm better than I used to be - but I'm still not where I'd like to be.

My husband is one of those men who is a true gentleman. He carries my bag for me, helps me up or down a curb, opens the door for me, and even walks on the side of the sidewalk nearest the street. He is incredibly kind and puts up with a lot - all of my mental and physical issues - while still loving me. 

He is an incredibly amazing man and I'm very blessed to call him my husband.

However, he is also depressed. I've known it since not long after we started dating. On top of that, he occasionally has anger issues. (Gold star for those who know where I'm going with this - you are more perceptive than I!)

His anger issues have been part of his life about the same amount of time depression has been part of mine (maybe more). It has cost him a lot - sports opportunities, jobs, relationships... since he was a child.

After we had been dating maybe six months, I noticed how his anger problem came and went. I didn't understand why. 

Then months later, I found out that if he ran out of his prescription anti-depressant, his temper was much more difficult to control. I was confused as to why an anti-depressant would help with anger, but I assumed it was one of those off-label things. As we hadn't been dating long, it wasn't really my business to pry so I let it go.

After we became more committed, I would ask him when he lost his temper if he was out of his prescription. He would get really mad at me (proving my point) but would finally admit he was out. I tried to help him stay on top of keeping that prescription filled - still not understanding the connection between an anti-depressant and something that helps with anger.

More time has passed. We have been married 2 1/2 years after dating/being engaged over five. I'm in a place to help him monitor that even better than ever before - and it's a rare occurance now.

At some point along this timeline, I would start to get upset about his temper whenever it erupted. (Sometimes I did, but that's beside the point right now.) Often I would remind myself that he puts up with my crying and even if it drives him nuts, not once has he ever gotten onto me for doing so.

Not long ago I finally (yes, it takes me a while sometimes) recognized that when he gets extremely frustrated and/or overwhelmed, he loses his temper... and when I do, I cry. I knew there was a connection but didn't know exactly what it was.

Now to present day... earlier this week we were at a therapist appointment. Our therapist (who has been a true God-send) had each of us fill out a depression scale prior to the appointment. 

He went through my results first.

My score was I think 45 out of 100 - moderately to severely depressed. 

I waited to hear my husband's results, assuming that his wasn't as bad as mine because his are never as bad as mine - in bloodwork, diagnoses, etc. Overall, he's much "healthier" than I am.

My jaw dropped when his score was a 33 - severely depressed.

It's embarrassing to admit I thought his depression was mild. He's much more of an optimist than I am. I just assumed he was okay.

And thus, I joined the many who aren't able to see what's right in front of them.

I mentioned to our therapist what I wrote earlier about how each of us deal with frustration - my crying and his anger.

Our therapist said it was common for men with depression to get angry.

BAM! It was a lightbulb moment the size of a nuclear explosion! THIS is why an anti-depressant helped. THIS is why he's been losing his temper more often lately even while taking his meds. THIS was the problem all along.

I've been trying to get him to see a psychiatrist for years... but I didn't push the issue because I thought it wasn't that big of a deal. I'm incredibly thankful that he already has an appointment with a doctor who I already know is amazing in just another month - and he can share what we learned a few days ago.

All this to say... sometimes anger issues are anger issues. But sometimes they are more. 

If you or a loved one has problems with his/her temper, look into depression as a possible cause. IF it is, then there could be a medicine out there that can help "tame the beast" while hopefully also working with a therapist to learn skills that make even more of a difference.

But I Thought Christians were Giving, Even if the Circumstances aren't Ideal

I just don't understand. 

My 25-year-old daughter is in the process of moving from living with her former fiancé' back to the home my mother, husband and I share. If you've read much of this blog, you'll already know about my tiny living situation. In fact, I've posted at least one blog specifically about tips for living in a tiny space.

Due to this, I've had a lot on me the last few weeks. My husband and I have had to clean out the room that was our den/kitchenette/my place to keep clothes - and find other places for everything. Thankfully, we have attic space - but we had to clean out and organize the attic to make room for our extra furniture and stuff that just wouldn't fit.

This has been a huge task... and it's not finished. However, as of yesterday, we have what will be her bedroom (and living room and study) ready. All of our furniture is out. All of the shelves and pictures on the wall are down (though I still have to fill and touch up the holes). My closet is empty. 

She originally thought that she had to be out the 15th of this month (currently it's the 11th). About a week and a half ago, they were looking at the lease and realized that the move out date is the 21st. 

Side note #1: If you don't read this blog, you won't know that my daughter has several mental and physical issues that make everyday life really, really hard to navigate. She hasn't been able to work more than a few sporadic part-time jobs over the past few years. She gets overwhelmed easily. She's come a long way toward learning to cope with her challenges but has a long way to go.

Side note #2: Even if you do read this blog, you won't know that her former fiancé/now-roommate has hoarder tendencies. I won't say she's technically a hoarder, but she has a LOT of stuff. She has a very hard time getting rid of anything. My daughter also has a good amount of stuff, but nothing compared to her roommate.

Side note #3: Even if you read this blog, you also won't know how many animals they have. Though some they are fostering for a friend who will be taking them soon, between them, they have 14 cats, 2 dogs and 2 rats. They also feed local feral cats. They also have many collections - Funko Pops, World's Smallest items (at least those are small), DVD and VHS movies... I could go on and on. 

Side note #4: (there was only going to be one of these when I started - sigh...): Though my daughter really tries, it's impossible to keep a house totally clean with a semi-hoarder and that many animals. Everything that does come to our house has to be cleaned before it can be put in her room or the attic.

Back to the regularly scheduled programming... This move is a big deal. It's not like any move I've ever experienced - my own or friends or family. All of their collections, clothes, shoes, kitchen stuff, even furniture... everything is enmeshed. They have to go through it together to even figure out who gets what, as a lot was bought together. 

This is a big deal because her roommate works 50-60 hours a week and has her own mental and physical issues (though not nearly as severe as my daughter's). There isn't a lot of time to sort it all - and the clock is ticking toward the day they have to be out.

My husband and I are exhausted - mentally, emotionally, physically. It has been a lot to get everything out of her room. We're doing this around work, helping my mom, faith-based activities, etc. Everything has to be done in a specific order. Some parts only I can do. Some only my husband can do. Some has to be both of us. It's a lot.

On top of that, I'm also helping my daughter get motivated enough to pack and get ready - and I'm the one arranging the timeline and help to actually do the moving.

Okay, now that you know all this, you'll understand a little more where I'm coming from with this post.

My original plan was to move our furniture to our bedroom and attic - up a long flight of stairs - this past Thursday (the 8th) and then move the majority of my daughter's furniture and belongings yesterday (the 10th). For this we needed one strong man who could help my husband move the furniture upstairs (between my back, age, and other factors, moving heavy stuff is forever no longer part of my skill-set). Then we needed a couple of trucks and a few other strong guys to get her stuff out of her house and taken to ours.

I knew it wouldn't be a lot. We needed to move about 6-8 pieces of furniture, then as many boxes as she had packed. So it should have taken only a couple of hours, including travel time (30 minutes from her house to ours). 

My network of friends through faith-based organizations has grown greatly over the past year. When I began to plan out how this would work, I was sure I would have plenty of help.

After my first requests, no-one responded. Not one. I sent out queries to my church's small group (about 20 people), a large women's group I'm part of (hoping a husband could help), my church's worship team, (about 15 guys in the rotation), the Deaf church, and a few others.

I had an offer by two men from the Deaf church we attend part-time to bring their trucks to my daughter's house to have something for the big furniture to travel in. Due to being in their 70s, they couldn't help much with moving but they could provide the means to get it to our house - still a huge help.

However, I had no help moving the heavy furniture. It would take a while - and a lot of hour-long round trips - but eventually, my husband, daughter and I could get all of the boxes and smaller, lighter furniture... if we had to. What about the heavy and/or bulky furniture? I can't afford to pay anyone and it had to leave that house... somehow.

About a week before the deadline, two more friends came through. One church friend asked in her own small group and had a one man volunteer to help with the evening shift at our house, moving furniture upstairs.

Another had a son in a Christian private school. Some of his friends (15 years old) needed service hours and my friend talked to their moms about our need. All three agreed! I gave them my and my daughter's addresses and set a time for this to happen. 

Then, a fourth! A single woman in my small group said she'd come and help.

It wasn't an abundance - but I hoped it would be enough.

So, at this point you are probably wondering where the title for this post came from if I got the help I needed.

This is why I'm writing... 

The friend of a friend did show on Thursday night and helped get everything out of the bedroom. He was there maybe an hour and we are so thankful he agreed to come and do some pretty physical labor for us - someone he didn't even know before that night.

But Saturday - when the big move was supposed to happen...

Well, let's go back to Wednesday, when, after knowing my daughter's address for about two weeks, I got a text from my friend about the teens that needed service hours. She had just heard from one of their moms, saying that they couldn't come because where my daughter lived had shootings with people having been killed in that neighborhood. 

My daughter had lived there two and a half years - with no issues. (Well, her roommate had her car broken into, but that kind of thing also happens other places - even the fancy-schmancy area where we currently live.) In fact, back when she was looking into rentals and she took me to see it, I felt a peace about her being there. She told me she had felt the same thing.

Back again to Wednesday... they would still be willing to unload at our house - located in a city that has the reputation of a "safe" area.

So they all bailed. Three out of the four who had committed to help were no longer in the equation. 

But I still had the one friend from my own small group, right?

Nope. She had forgotten about a family commitment she had that day.

My friends from the Deaf Church were still willing to bring trucks but we had no-one to help load them.

I just don't understand.

Update on June 18, 2025:

It's been about a month since the move-out date came and went. Thankfully, my daughter's former fiancé' didn't hold a grudge and was willing to help us load the big and/or heavy items into my brother's 20 year old truck. When we got it to our house, we flagged down neighbors, basically strangers, who were willing to unload. The friend who said couldn't do it because of a family obligation did help with one load - and I'm not discounting that. I appreciate her and all those who did come through.

We made trip after trip and finally got everything out of the house on the early morning hours the day after they were supposed to be out.

So, we got it done. But it took a HUGE physical, mental and financial toll. I still don't understand. I thought the Church was supposed to be there for each other - and honestly, I thought that was even when it was inconvenient to do so.

I guess I was wrong.

Update - read my post about an email I sent to the pastors of my church about this issue - and their response: https://www.spotlightonstigma.com/2025/07/an-email-to-pastors-of-my-church-about.html

Is There a Place for a Person Who's Really Hurting at Church on Sunday Morning?

Is there a place for a person who's really hurting at church on Sunday morning? 

For the last 24 hours or so, I have been hurting really badly. My back has been killing me. My ears have been throbbing. The one floater I still have in my left eye after surgery to remove them, which usually isn't apparent, has been, well, apparent. On top of all that, when I got home from a few wonderful days of a mini-vacation, there was mail that some of my doctors are no longer covered by my insurance. 

So, I'm having physical issues, and in the middle of it, I'm going to have to find new doctors. I'm still working on getting three different specialty meds I'm supposed to be using that I'm having problems obtaining. 

I'm tired. I'm hurting. And I'm at church where everything is upbeat and happy. with the joy of the Lord. This brings up a question that I've wondered about before, but never had this kind of in-my-face direct example of living it. 

I am hurting. I am crying. I feel horrible. And I can't share that with anybody here. In theory, I could. I know that the people here care. But they've all got their things to do. They're getting ready for being on the worship team or the tech team or preaching or greeting people. 

Maybe I'm really wrong - probably I'm really wrong - but I can't see them taking any time for me. And what good would it do anyway? I'm still going to be hurting. I'm still going to be in pain. And let's say they did surround me with prayer, with hugs, with love, they'll have to leave in time to be on stage or in their seats, because "the show must go on." (We livestream so our start time is timed to practically the second.)

I just realized why this is affecting me to this extreme... there's an incident that happened a couple weeks ago with a group of women who are trying to learn more about God, hear Him and see Him in  everything. In fact, I'm one of the leaders of the group.

It was really strange. I was doing well that day but started crying because of a sweet thing God showed me about a specific verse of scripture. Somehow, for some reason, even though it was happy crying, it turned into a panic attack.

I ran out and stood on the porch just trying to calm down I kept wondering if somebody would follow me... would care... would help...

Finally the one who was facilitating the meeting did come out. I thought she was coming out to help but instead, she just told me I needed to get in my car until I calmed down.

This woman is amazing. She's one of my best friends and I know that she cares about me. I know that she loves me. I know she'd do just about anything for me. 

But in that moment, all she could think about was that I needed to be somewhere where I was sitting down because I could faint and she didn't want the neighbors to see me hyperventilating on her porch. Plus, the noise that I was making, trying to breathe, would possibly bother the women who were still inside - I was interrupting what they were doing.

That hurt to my core. I haven't confronted her about it yet because i don't want to hurt her but to be in such a vulnerable position and to be basically said told, "You go fix it and then you can come back" is one of the main reasons I have this blog. Even people who care don't understand how their inaction, or sometimes their action, can hurt someone who deals with invisible illnesses.

I was taught growing up that you're not supposed to show strong emotion unless it's happiness. People can show all the emotion they want - for example, they can be super exuberant at a at a football game or a sporting event. 

But you can't go the other way. You can't be super sad unless there's a "real reason" (like a death of a family member or super bad news that someone you love has cancer or something similar).

It can't be just emotions. It can't be due to mental health issues or clinical depression. It can't involve invisible illnesses like back issues or a chronic ear infections. It can't be caused by exhaustion or worry. 

We're supposed to be "more than conquerors." We're supposed to trust God in all these things. We're supposed to be healed. 

But what the hell if you're not? What if you're not? What if you're trying so hard to do the right thing... reading the Bible again after years of shying away from it; trying to pray after years of secretly wondering if it was worth the time; and becoming part of - and heavily involved in - a church and joining the leader's team in a Christian women's group? 

What if you're doing all this and it doesn't change a damn thing? 

How do you reconcile it? 

I don't know if anybody who reads this will have ever felt this way. My guess is you have. That you've gone to church, or for those that may not be Christians or people of faith, gone to a close friend or a family member, and been told that you need to just get over it - that you need to go in the car until you can calm down and be okay yourself. 

What we're supposed to do is help each other. What we're supposed to do is support each other. Not send people to be alone when they need others the most. 

Church is starting now and I have to decide if I'm going to try to go in and try my best to not be the basket case I currently am. There's a part of me that wants to show people how I feel and that someone can be real and that it's okay to come into church not okay.

Another part of me is so scared that no one will care or that people will care too much. I don't even know which one I would want to happen. I just want to not feel this way. And I'm concerned that there are others who feel this way - where church is the most lonely place they go to...

...and I don't know how to fix it. 

I don't even know how to ask for help for just myself. I'm hiding in the nursing mother's room. Thankfully nobody's needing it right now. But this is a place that's become my refuge at times I just have to get away. 

I can't hear the worship set starting. It's so amazing. I know everybody in there - well, maybe not everybody... there may be somebody else like me... actually, odds are there are more like me that don't want to praise, that have nothing in them to give to anybody, even to God.

But I feel like I need to be I need to be okay before I go in there.

Shouldn't church be a place where you could not be okay, when you need to go in even more because you're not okay? 

That makes no sense. Let me try again.

Should it be a place that somebody could go in crying and not be looked out upon? You can cry at the end of the service during the emotional prayer time. But you can't cry through the worship. 

If I go in there, I'm going to make people uncomfortable. If I go in there like this, that is. I don't want to bring them down. But I want to go in. It took everything in me to get up this morning and get ready to come and I'm here and I can't participate. I'm in a dark, tiny room all alone. Nothing against my husband, but he's on the stage with them. He knows how I'm feeling but he's not here. I think, if I asked him to, I think he would stay with me.

But I would feel the whole time like he's worrying about getting to the stage. And I'm guilty of the same thing. That's why I said I don't know how to fix it. I would care more about making sure I got to the stage than help somebody in need. 

But 

That's...

just...

wrong. 

It's wrong of me to do. It's wrong of others to do. Caring more about facilitating a meeting or a worship service or attending either than caring about one of the people there is just wrong.

But right now, it's about halfway through the worship set. I need to go now or completely give up.

So... I'm going to just go in there, hide, try to hide, but at least I can be there. 

One more thing real quick... I don't know the scripture reference, but I do want to add that the person who opened in our prayer meeting before church, the team meeting (which I don't even know why I go when I'm not technically on the team for that week). But I go anyway.

Well, I'm glad I did this time because there's one guy who always opens it with scripture and this morning he read the scripture about turning your sorrow into joy and make beauty from ashes. 

I wanted to know but I couldn't talk to him. It was all I could do not to cry even then. Instead, I asked my husband to ask him when he picked that verse. I didn't know if he saw me crying and he picked it from that. He already had picked it apparently. 

I needed that. But then there's also more pressure from hearing that verse. 

I guess my question is when will He do those things - turn my sorrow into joy and make beauty from ashes? 

And is it okay for me to be who I am right now until that time? 

...Okay, so I have an addendum to add after getting home. 

I did go on in the service. I just sat during the rest of the worship set. I just listened - and tried not to be too cynical about some of the words - about being victorious, about having victory, about being an overcomer and being healed. 

Because right now I'm none of those things. 

I tried to just... Be. And fight the tears because I did not want to lose it. I mean, tears were streaming down my face, but I wasn't at least bawling... or working towards a panic attack. 

Then the Connect Time came - the time when everybody is supposed to greet everybody else.

And I'm like, I already know there is no way I can shake somebody's hand, smile, and say good morning. None. What if a stranger came up to me and asked me how I was doing or the traditional southern "How are you?" where they don't want to know how you're doing - they are just saying hi.

But at that point, Would I lie and say, oh, I'm good and try to smile? What would I tell them? If I started telling them the real answer, it would be really awkward. 

So I ran out of the auditorium and hid. It was then that I realized a lot of others come out during Connect Time. I never noticed that. They go to the bathroom, get coffee, whatever. So I turned to the wall and just stood by the picnic table in the lobby. 

I kept thinking somebody might see me and think, "Why is this person just facing the wall?" But nobody did. 

That is, until the service was just about to start, or I think it may have just started back. 

The lobby was pretty much cleared out at this time. Everybody else had gone back in. 

Then one person came over and asked me (and I could tell she was sincere) - "Are you okay?"

I told her no, I'm not. 

And she didn't ask why. 

Until that moment I hadn't realized that's exactly what I needed. I didn't want to talk about all that was going wrong. I didn't want to try to put a spin on it on how I knew God would take care of me (though I was pretty sure it was true). 

She didn't want me to worry about going into it all which was a huge blessing. 

She simply asked, "Can I pray for you?" And I said yes. Then she said, which I love... She asked, "Do you want me to pray for you now, or do you want me to just go inside and pray for you?

I replied, "I don't know." I couldn't make a decision right then about Just about anything except trying not to hyperventilate. 

The she asked, "Well, can I give you a hug?" And I was like, YES! (inside anyway - I told her yes in a normal tone of voice). While she was hugging me, she went ahead and prayed for me. 

She cared. She saw me. 

And not to brag on myself, because dang. I'm not anything. But I was thinking how I need to start doing that more, and during the service. I saw a woman across the aisle who started crying about what was being said. 

I doubt it was like my situation where I was crying purely because selfish stuff, how I felt, which I guess is really not selfish. It's how I felt, how I was at the time. Anyway.... But I was thinking I wanted to talk to her as soon as the service of her and see if I could pray for her.

Then I realized, what the heck is keeping me from praying right now? Why am I not praying right now? I started praying for her during the service. 

But I also knew I needed to tell her. I know how important it was that that woman saw me... standing alone, facing the wall... and came up to me. She could have been praying for me without me ever knowing. But it meant so much more that she stopped and checked on me. 

So after the woman came out to the aisle, I told her, "I've been praying for you." She asked me why did you do that? And I said, well, I saw you crying, and I came in this morning crying and I don't know what's going on but I wanted to pray for you - that God would make himself known in whatever is going on. 

She was so thankful. And again, I'm not bragging on myself, but we need more of that in church. Last week our other pastor had a visual example that I'll probably never forget - how when he and his wife were going through a rough time, they had people that supported them. Then he had the people stand up that he knew would support him at any moment. 

And he said it wasn't just true for him as a pastor. He said that it would be true for anybody in this church. 

I agree. And I kind of believe that. If earlier I had grabbed one of the worship team to pray for me... I don't know. I don't know. I didn't want to find out. 

But most likely if I grabbed one of them right before they were supposed to go on stage and said, "I need you to pray for me. Can you pray for me?" they wouldn't have worried about going on stage. They would have stopped and prayed for me. At least I think they would - because I also know that the show must go on. 

All these people are there. There are people watching on YouTube. So I understand that aspect of it. I don't know how to reconcile these two things. But even a person who isn't going to be on stage... They may really want to get into the service when it starts. Our worship set is not that long and if I was the one who was being asked to pray for someone else, I would have wanted to be in there for that time.

We need to be looking for People that need help. "I" need to be looking. We ALL need to be looking. The problem with that it takes time to show someone you care. It takes time to see if somebody's okay. It takes time to see if somebody needs prayer. 

And we're all so busy. I'm one of the biggest ones guilty of that. We all have our stuff to do. The church should be the place where you can go in crying and somebody sees it. 

I can't help but think of the Brandon Heath song. Give me your eyes... so I can see. It's what the whole song talks about - seeing people that are in need or that are hurting or are homeless that we often just overlook either by accident or on purpose. Sometimes we do see but then we look away. 

But give me Your eyes, Jesus. Give me Your eyes so that we can see the person sitting at the well or just all the times Jesus stopped what he was doing to help somebody. He probably had places to go, people to see, things to do - like we do. But he would stop. Because the person was more important than those things. 

All this is just something I'm going to try my best to start doing more - really looking for people who need prayer or a hug or just a hi, hello - and praying that God will open my eyes even more.

I said earlier that I don't know the solution for this. 

But this is the solution. 

I meant to say earlier, the problem with what our pastor said last week is that if somebody asked for help, someone would be there for them. But what if they won't ask? What if it feels too uncomfortable to ask because of shame, embarrassment, low self-worth, social anxiety disorder, anything like that? 

What if the place that they're in actually means they can't ask. 

If somebody doesn't see it then they're going without help. They're going without support. They may know to go to God but sometimes we need the tangible. I know I needed that hug today - from somebody, from a stranger. Someone who noticed me. 

That made all the difference. 

Note... I didn't have my laptop with me when all this happened, so I recorded both my original thoughts and what I was thinking when I got home. If you want to hear the raw recordings with all my emotion included, go to https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/3wfwngb8049yghluor5oc/Reflections-on-a-Church-Service_-Navigating-Cynicism-Seeking-Victory.mp3?rlkey=ihytl2e7zzpl62wre0d79pqlw&st=uol4mas1&dl=0 and https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/ds41f6gktmwggbod9zedi/Seeking-Solace_-A-Poetic-Plea-for-Healing-Amid-Physical-Afflictions.mp3?rlkey=9ydur7cqc77mempo416wmwxgf&st=57xmjnu2&dl=0

What Can Churches Do about the Chasm between the "Haves" and "Have-Nots"?

This morning I was reminded about a women's retreat that happened last fall. I meant to post about it then, but just realized I never did. This retreat raised a question I've thought about for years.

It's a universal question, not only about the church, but I feel those of faith should do a better job with it than those outside of it.

Spoiler alert - I don't have the answer. No one I've ever talked to about it has the answer. I do know this at least... it's something that's decided on a case-by-case basis.

Unfortunately the decision is often in favor of the "haves" (and I'm a have-not 😔).

Let me tell you more about the retreat. Our church had been planning it for months, so when the following occurred, it wasn't a surprise. However, I thought I had a shoot that weekend so when they would talk about it during the Sunday morning service, I tuned out. I couldn't go so the details didn't matter.

(To be honest, in some ways I was glad I didn't have to make the decision on going or not because my social anxiety still runs rampant in my life and there was a part of me that was nervous about taking the plunge.)

Anyway, about a week before the ladies were leaving for the retreat, I realized that the shoot had been rescheduled and I had forgotten to take it off my calendar. Because I was brave at the moment, I decided to try to go. The deadline had passed for registration but I assumed (correctly) that there was still space.

Keep in mind that at this time I was still relatively new to this church. I had gotten to know a few people, but none very well. I would be going to the retreat with a bunch of strangers, but I was desperate for friends. I knew that if I made the leap to go, I might make a friend or two - and even if I didn't, I would at least hopefully feel more a part of the church.

So, I reached out to the one who was in charge about possibly going. I was right - she said there were spots available. She was excited about me going and at this point, I was excited too.

Then I told her that I couldn't afford it. As my husband and I both freelance, our income is tied to our work. We weren't even making the bills with the business, much less had enough extra to spend "only" $300 for something that wasn't necessary.

Our church isn't rich but most members have more than enough. I really thought that there would be scholarships available. When the women's leader mentioned that someone had pulled out but didn't ask for a refund for her registration, she excitedly told me that it would "only" be $200. 

I was devastated. $200 was as far out of reach as $5000. I argued with the retreat leader about the topic of this post (for which I'm ashamed about now), but it again brought up something I've wondered about since I was young...

When I was a teen, I had a friend who only came to church one or two times a month because she only had two dresses and didn't want everyone to know. That made a huge impression on me and I never forgot it. In fact, I decided to boycott dresses for church as soon as I was old enough to go to a church on my own because of that situation.

Back to present day - to get over the hurt about not being able to afford to go, I told myself that it would have been hard anyway due to the social anxiety issue. Honestly, though, the hurt lingered for a long time even with my efforts to push it away.

This brings me back to my title question... what can we do about this issue? If you are a "have," you might not have even realized that we "have-nots" have had issues with times like the following (all of which I've experienced multiple times while going to many different churches):

- not having "church clothes" and so we feel like we can't go as often or participate as fully as others (one church I went to didn't allow jeans on stage - and since that's all I had at the time, I couldn't even think about becoming part of the worship team),

- not being able to go out to eat with others after church (an important time to really get to know people in many churches) because restaurants just aren't in the budget, 

- not having enough extra to participate in activities like retreats or church outings that cost money (and this happens a lot),

- not being able to afford buying a book or other needed supplies for a church group's book study,

- not having something like an iPad, which I needed to be on the worship team on my current church (I'm old-school and just print out my music but when something changes and I see those with iPads, fix it easily, it still hurts),

- not participating in get-togethers like small groups (often in the evening) or women's groups (often during the day) because of needing to work, 

- not having enough for your child to participate in activities like basketball, 

- not even not having the gas money to go to anything beyond the main church service (or sometimes even the Sunday morning service).

I understand both sides. The majority of the "haves" often worked really hard for what they have. I can see them justifying not helping those who don't.

But, on the other hand, the "have-nots" also often work hard. Circumstances or poor choices can land someone in major financial difficuties - situations that can take years to get out of, if they ever can. 

I try not to expect that scholarships are available for activities like a retreat, but I always hope they are - and am very grateful when it's an option. There are so many great experiences I've gotten to do because of the generousity of others.

However, should I expect that generousity? Isn't that one of the early ways that the early church showed that they were the church? At the end of Acts 2, the Bible talks about how they shared everything. Those who had more than enough - the "haves" - sold their excess and gave it to those who didn't - the "have nots." 

I know this wasn't the only factor that led to the last verse in the chapter, but I can't help but think it had a part - that more and more were being saved and added to the church daily. 

So... is it really hard like I started saying at the beginning of this post? Or is it really simple? If you have more than enough, give to those who don't. Period. 

Something I'll continue to think about...

What if Churches Were More Like Support Groups?

For probably a decade, I was a "none" - a person who was still a Christian but had given up on church. I was tired of being hurt. I was tired of the hypocracy. I was especially tired of being "welcomed, but not accepted."

Though I felt in my heart that there were churches out there who were different, I couldn't find one and didn't have the drive to try. 

Then I discovered I am an addict. When I found a support group for my addiction and began attending, I noticed something very enlightening.

I was fully accepted - even though I had messed up royally in my life, even though I am an addict, even though I am very, very far from having it all together.

I had found my people.

The best thing about it is that the majority in my group are Christians, or at least seem to be. Their Higher Power is God, as is mine. Though we don't talk about the Bible, we often talk about principles that are faith-based. 

This group of messed up, broken addicts became my church.

I have learned so much about God through them. We quote the Serenity Prayer each week at the end of the meeting and add, "May Your will be done in our lives. Amen." The necessity and power of surrender is a recurring theme, as is making amends (asking for forgiveness.)

In other words, we talk about many of the main themes of the Bible, though not the salvation of Christ. Of course, Jesus and what He did is the most important aspect of Christianity, but my personal feeling is that church is more for the saved, so they can go out and share about Christ. 

To that end, group was that encouragement for me for years - helping the members apply the principles of Christianity so that we are in the right mindset to serve others, even non-Christians.

About six months ago, I actually found a church that is what I had hoped for - one that not only welcomes but accepts everyone. But group is still where I know I can be completely transparent, without fear of judgment or being looked down upon.

I still sometimes wish all churches were a little more like group. Here are some of the ways...

- In group, we don't have a dedicated leader. Anyone can participate in the readings, even if it's someone's first time. Anyone can share. There are what we call "old-timers" who have had sobriety the longest. They might help behind the scenes more than the newbies, but when it comes to group time, everyone is equal.

- We share honestly and authentically, often about things that literally no-one else knows about. Before I shared about losing my teaching license in group, I had only told maybe five of my closest and most trusted friends about it. Other than my parents and daugher, no one in my family even knew.

But because others had shared the horrible things that had happened because of what they had done, I knew I was safe to share it with them. They understood - and no one judged me.

- Everyone has a chance to share. Unless it's a special program or dedicated night, like the 5th week, there's never a speaker. Even when there is, it's almost always someone who is simply sharing his/her experience, strength and hope. It's not someone telling the rest what to do. There's a great deal of autonomy and working with others, usually one-on-one - called a sponsor/sponse relationship - who have been there.

- It's common for members to reach out to others during the week - for accountability, help, advice, and to help them keep from "acting out," as its called in our addiction. That kind of thing doesn't happen in church, at least in my experience. 

In church, you make friends who might help you follow the teachings of Christ or give advice on what to do when you mess up. But if your friends are busy, you are stuck. With group, we can just go to the next person in on the contact list because if your name is on the list, you are willing to take a call anytime.

- Everyone has heard of the "Twelve Steps." Those are the steps that many addicts take to get sober. But what's not often talked about is that the steps are much more than a way to sobriety. It's a way to God, if God is your Higher Power. It's a methodical approach to learn how to surrender, to forgive, and to serve.

I'll add the steps to the end of this post for those who have never seen them. One thing we make sure that new members of group know about the steps is that each one is as important as the rest - and that there's a reason they're in the order they are. Each is a foundation for the next one.

- Many support groups use a token system. They are to mark days, months, and years of sobriety. Unlike the above points, I don't advocate that churches give out tokens for years of being a Christian or for the months that someone has served. 

But I do like the emphasis on focusing on the work you do within yourself instead of external factors such as the number of members or the amount given to missions. A church with more resources is going to attract more people, increasing the membership. Churches in a higher socioeconomic area are always going to have more money for missions. 

This emphasis increases pressure on the little churches who might not have much that they should do more, instead of focusing on growing the Christ-followers who are there. Focusing on numbers instead of what's going on in hearts is toxic to the church as a whole, in my humble opinion.

To sum up, I love my current church but I would have never been open to coming here if it hadn't been for my support group. They showed me that unconditional acceptance is possible and that even a bunch of addicts can learn how to rely on a Higher Power - who in my case and many others, is God. 

Finally, as promised, here are the Twelve Steps. I'm including those from AA, as that's where they started and are the most well-known. Keep in mind that other addictions use these but adapt them to their specific needs.

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.