An Email to the Pastors of My Church About True Community

A few things you need to know before you read this. 

One - I've purposefully left out names in this post.

Two - I wrote it during the individual portion of our church's weekly early morning prayer time. I still debate with myself whether I should have done it then, but I also know that if I wait on something like this, it either won't get done or I'll forget aspects that were important at the time. 

Three - 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 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.

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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 to 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's name 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 was 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 and 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, as I said earlier, 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 photography 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 as well as 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 those feelings.

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Okay... when editing this months later, I decided to add the following - and THIS happened. 

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Remember my note at the beginning about my pastors coming to me to discuss it? They could have easily ignored it, put the blame on someone else, told me it was my fault, or a myriad of other options. Instead, they saw it as an issue and said they would work to fix it. 

They aren't perfect, but I love them even more because of that. When church leaders acknowledge that they don't know it all and don't do it all right, I can trust them. My church isn't perfect either.  

Uh, oh. What?! Did I just say my church isn't perfect either? If I feel I can love my pastors more because they aren't perfect and don't know it all, how can I not give church members the same grace? 

Whoa! Light-bulb moment!

This is something I need to think about. Yes, I still feel the church should have helped. Yes, I wasn't wrong in feeling hurt when my church dropped the ball. But there may be much more in this than I realized.

I Simply 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.

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. 

Add to that, 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 of her room to play in the adjoining area that includes my study/office. I now have to babyproof that room so I get to my desk to work only after picking up a pile of papers they knocked on the floor or a book that was knocked off the shelf. So far nothing has broken, at least, but it makes it even harder to find places to put things safely.

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

These are just some of the 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 \with various mental and physical, as well as relationship issues, for the past few years. During the few months she's lived here, she's already improved. She finally feels able to start working - part-time at first but hopefully it won't take long to move into something full-time so she can get out on her own.

Earlier this week she found her "perfect job." 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. 

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

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

What is so sad to me is that she is adamant that this is the first place she's ever felt totally accepted. Isn't the Church supposed to be that? I'd like to go into that more, but that's for another post.

Back to this one... 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. My personal belief is judging won't help and this group in particular gets way too much of that as it is. I feel my job is to pray, love, and let God convict and lead someone out of that lifestyle, just like any sin.

I'd like to go into that more, but that's also for another post. 

Back to this one again... would I consider this an answer to prayer? Would you? 

I don't know, but of course, I was happy for her. How could I not be? She has wanted for so long to get back out in the workforce but would have a hard time working in most typical environments. She wants to start earning money to help with expenses now which would also help my husband and me as we were already struggling financially.

She's been on cloud 9 since the interview, even though she came down with while strep throat the day after. 

What happened a few hours ago was devastating.

She opened Facebook to see a post from her future boss, the one who hired her, sharing how she and the rest of the leadership team had been scammed. They were fronted the money from an investor to pay for start-up costs but there's now it's been cut off. There's no more money. Her future boss and team hadn't wasted it. They didn't steal it. The investor was apparently not a real company. What she said doesn't make sense but my focus isn't on what happened with the company. That means nothing to my daughter. 

All she wants to know is why, when she finally got a job that ticked off all the boxes for what she wanted, after not being able to work for so long, did it fall through? She cried and cried for hours and still hasn't gotten over it.

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 as well as bring back the sense of independence she lost for several years - 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 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 no matter how hard I work.

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 and with my husband.

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 with photography and writing 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 he asked me to marry him even though he had sworn to be a bachelor all of his life.

I don't understand how I was able to birth an amazing, complex, talented daughter after years of infertility.

Right now, I'll admit that I'm doubting who God is. But how 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 from paper planners and wall calendars with big boxes to a Google calendar years ago, I still keep a regular monthly calendar near my desk where I can easily see it.

The main reason it's important is so that I can see the dates easily. I don't use it for scheduled activities or my to-do list. Other than the birthdays and anniversaries I include (because they don't change), each new month is a clean slate.

In the past, 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 emoticon stickers on each day.

Last year I wanted a break from the thinking that went into the simple task of checking off each day - but I still wanted it to be colorful. I decided to use one-inch, differently shaped holographic stickers to mark the passage of time (and be able to see today's date at a glance.)

However, several years my calendars have been filled with 12 months of between 28 and 31 squares each saying ways I'm grateful. 

I've accomplished this task of noting how I'm grateful different ways through the years. I've kept the typical lists. These tended to be random... I'm grateful for my big, cozy desk chair; I'm grateful for my nice cameras; I'm thankful for my mom's support. Essentially these 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 it and start over to make space to put something new.

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

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 first published book) to what many would consider insignificant (that 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 what 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, 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 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, when I first sit down at my desk, I get my calendar off the wall and check off the day before by filling it the square in 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 emails, 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 time in months. Swimming is one of the hardest things to make myself do - but I'm always in a better mood after I go. (I know that makes no sense, but such is the life of one with mental health issues.)

I had found my grateful aspect for that square.

As soon as I finished and put it back on the wall, I thought of another I could have added. I didn't think about it first 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 issues from my 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. I told him I'd try anything.

He got the extra, extra large cold pack that I had used after my rotator cuff 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 (from the 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, I got a leg cramp.

Most of the time I don't get regular leg cramps - the ones in one calf that hurt but don't cause major pain and 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 excruciatingly 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 - again I say, I promise I wouldn't have gone through with it. I just wanted the pain to stop.

I finally decided to attempt 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, which is why I didn't try it 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 my bed. I woke up incredibly early, hurting again, but I got enough sleep to make it through today.

So... finally... my realization after writing my grateful thing 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 when I sleep in it).

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

- That 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, resulting in less pressure and stress over not getting enough sleep than if I worked 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 avoid social media is because people usually show their highlight 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 politically correct or something most would 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 - continue including the good but not forsaking what could be considered the bad. 

May you also begin to recognize how to be grateful in everything.

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, I got a letter that some of my doctors are no longer covered by my insurance. 

So, I'm having physical issues, and on top of it I need to find new doctors. I'm still working on getting three different specialty meds I'm supposed to be taking!

I'm tired. I'm hurting - and I'm at church where everything is upbeat and happy. 

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'm crying. bawling actually. I feel horrible - and I can't share that with anyone here. In theory, I could. I know that the people here care but they all have their things to do. They're getting ready to lead worship or work the technology or preach or greet newcomers or check in children... or they're catching up with their friends after not seeing them for a week.

I'm hiding in the nursing mother's room. This is the place that's become my refuge when I just have to get away. Thankfully, nobody needs it right now. 

Maybe I'm really wrong - probably I'm really wrong - but I can't see them taking time for me. What good would it do anyway? I'm still going to be in pain. 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 practically to the second.)

I just realized why this is affecting me to this extreme right now. A couple of weeks ago I was meeting 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. That was one of my "good days" physically, emotionally and mentally, but I started crying because of a sweet thing God showed me about a specific verse of scripture. Somehow, for some reason, and even though it was happy crying, it turned into a panic attack.

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

Finally, the one who was facilitating the meeting came out. I thought she was coming out to help.  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. I know that she cares about me. I know that she loves me. I know she'd do just about anything for me. 

She had her reasons.

I needed to sit down in case I fainted. She didn't want the neighbors to see me hyperventilating on her porch. The noise I was making trying to breathe might bother the women who were still inside.

In other words, my struggle was interrupting their time with God.

That hurt me 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 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 action, or sometimes their inaction, can hurt someone who deals with invisible illnesses.

I was taught growing up that you're not supposed to show strong negative emotions. You can't be incredibly sad unless there's a "real reason" (like the death of a family member or finding out someone you love has cancer or something similar).

There has to be a reason. 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 chronic ear infections. It can't be caused by exhaustion, hunger, 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 leadership 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 has ever felt this way. My guess is you have - that you've gone to church or a close friend or a family member with your pain and your struggles - and been told that you need to just get over it, that you need to get in the car until you can calm down. 

I personally feel 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. I have to decide if I'm going to go in and try my best to not be the basket case I currently am. However, I'm not a good actress and I'm almost positive that will be a big fail.

My thoughts are all over the place. Part of me wants to continue to hide. Then there's another part of me that wants to show people how I feel... that someone can be real... that it's okay to come into church not okay.

Still another part of me is scared that no one will care - or that people will care too much. I don't even know which one I want to happen. I just want to not feel this way. 

I'm also concerned that others feel this way - that church is the place they are most lonely..

And I don't know how to fix it. 

Heck, I don't even know how to ask for help for just myself! 

I can hear the worship set starting. It's so amazing. I feel like everybody in there is ready to worship. Well, maybe not everybody... chances are good there is someone like me... others who don't want to dive into worship, who have nothing in them to give to anyone else, even to God.

I finally land on the decision that I need to be okay before I go in there - and I'm not.

Shouldn't church be a place where you could not be okay, where you could go ineven more because you're not okay? 

That makes no sense. Let me try again.

Should it be a place where somebody could go in crying and not be looked down upon? You can cry at the end of the service during the emotional prayer time but not during the worship set.

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. Now I'm here and I can't make myself 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 with me. 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 hate it, but I know I would also care more about making sure I got to the stage on time 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 

Okay, 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 and hide, or at least try to hide - but at least I can be there. 

One more thing real quick. All those who are either on stage or part of the tech team are invited to go to a prayer time before the service. I don't know why I go when I'm not on the team that week, but I usually do. Anyway, I was able to get myself together enough to go.

The person who opened the prayer time read a scripture about turning your sorrow into joy and making 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. But he had already chosen it earlier.

I needed that. But then there's added 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? 

*****************************************************************

Fast forward a couple of hours. After I got home, I realized I needed to add an addendum. 

I did go 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 about being healed. 

Because right now I'm none of those things. 

I tried to just... be. I tried to continue to 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 heading towards a panic attack. 

Then "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. Everyone 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 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. 

Then 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 what she gave to me for others. Then, 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 due to selfish stuff (though I guess crying due to being in pain isn't really selfish). No matter what, it's how I felt, how I was at the time. Anyway....

I decided I wanted to talk to her as soon as the service was over and ask 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. 

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 got up from her seat, I stopped her and told her, "I've been praying for you." She asked me why did you do that? I said, "Well, I saw you crying, and I came in this morning crying. 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. 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 - a time when he and his wife were going through a rough time, he said they had people who supported them. Then he had the people stand up who he knew would support him at any moment. 

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 who 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. 

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." 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 - by accident or on purpose. Then sometimes we do see, but then we look away. 

But, "Give me Your eyes, Jesus. Give me Your eyes so that I can see the person sitting at the well like Jesus did." Think of 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 that 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 - while 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 recordings with all my raw 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