The Post That Meets My #2 Goal for This Week

I've worked on a manuscript for my book on and off for years. In 2017, I won a contest with a few of the chapters from my book and was given a trip to a writing conference and workshop complete with a writing coach. My coach was a best selling author and I learned so much from her- but her recommendations on how to change my writing brought me to a full stop and stunted a lot of my growth for the last year and a half.

She was complimentary about my work, but she told me if I wanted to sell copies that I needed to shape it into a self-help book and to dumb it down to a middle school reading level. I was deflated. That wasn't at all the vision I'd had for the work I'd bled into, sweat through and gutted my soul out onto the pages. But, I knew she was the expert and I was not. She'd sold thousands of books and I've only had essays published. I felt I needed to consider her advice.
Books have a way of birthing themselves to some degree. My book has grown organically into part memoir and part self-help, if for no other reason than I offer information and resources as a natural progression of my story. I was loathe to chop it into short chapters with three alliterated bullet points  and a cheesy anecdote...and trying it felt forced and disingenuous. As every writer does, I write with a certain cadence, vocabulary and tone- and it's not far off from how I speak. It hit me hard to think that I'd have to 'dumb it down' in order to connect with my audience.

But I can't let it just sit. I've had too many interactions with people who want and need to hear what I have to say to keep it to myself; and I'm ready to move forward into being a more vocal advocate for mental health. I pulled out my manuscript yesterday and read through it. I was relieved to still connect with what I wrote and found it powerful and captivating. It's tough to read personal work- it's a pull back into dark times when life was scary, confusing, traumatic and chaotic. Much of what I had written was taken from my journals; entries often written with clinical sterility, solely for the sake of charting my son's moods. But those entries jog my memories, and the the memories give way to the words pouring onto the pages. Rereading them in part is reliving them, but with the scratchy comfort of having come through it and the knowledge that somehow we've made it.

I'm meeting with a friend weekly- one who pushes me and texts and gets on me when I'm not completing the goals I've set for myself. I've wanted to have my work published and to have the chance to speak in front of groups again for years; but I've allowed fear and the words of other people to hold me back. I'm tired of waiting for permission. I'm annoyed with myself for the myriad of excuses and reasons as to why now isn't a good time. I'm done letting my work sit in a drawer. I have no idea if anyone other than my family and few close friends will ever read what I write, but I know that I can't keep spinning my way around this universe year after year without trying. I don't have a new year's resolution, but I do have a promise to myself- to finally try. To give myself the chance to do what I've always wanted to do. To keep meeting with my friend, keep setting goals, keep writing a paragraph at a time, and to see where it leads me. In fact, that's one of the reasons I'm writing here. Goal #2 for this week has now been met.
I may not ever be a best selling author, but I refuse to be one of the bazillions of writers who are 'going to write a book one day'. I want to be able to look at myself proudly in the mirror, so for me, pursuing what I love has become a vital part of my well being. So instead of 'new year, new me'... I'm choosing to embrace 'new year, true me', and find out what happens when I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Cheers to showing up for our real lives!

I'm Wide Awake

Fear has been my enemy since I was a little girl. I have many vivid memories of lying in bed at night hiding my head under the covers terrified an angel was going to show up and try to talk to me. I was irrationally afraid that our house would catch fire and we wouldn't all make it out alive. I would run up the stairs as fast I could, completely convinced that a monster was breathing down my neck and would take me down.
As I got older, the fears became steeped in possibilities that were less fantasy and grounded in more realistic humanity. I was scared I'd get into a car accident, or that one of my loved ones would suddenly die. The swirling anxiety was my continual companion; hovering on my shoulder and whispering paralyzing nonsense into my ear.

So many chapters of my life have been written in a narrative I would have deleted and left on the cutting room floor.. yet some of the ugliest portions of the script have been the ones that have burned away the irrationality that suffocated me for decades. At this moment, I've found myself afraid of very little. Discovering my strength has been an intoxicating process, and I've revealed in seeing just how much I can do.
But fear is a tenacious enemy. One that works hard to linger.. cloaking itself in the disguise of lies long believed, ones that are so familiar they seem to be truth. I have hundreds of inspirational sayings, quotes, scriptures floating inside of my brain- ones that call to action, command me to reach towards my best self while leaving fear behind without the nourishment of my oxygen, my attention, my belief. Yet I find myself indulging it. Returning to the destructive momentary comfort of entertaining the lie/fear monster I've been married to.

The current wrestling is over my future. My destiny. My best life, my hopes and dreams... taking punches from the thing that is ever ready to remind me that I couldn't possibly get to where my soul knows I belong. That I don't have what it takes, that I'll try and fail. That the dreams that have swam miles inside of my brain, carving serpentine grooves into the grey matter are the unrealistic visions of a delusional dreamer.
I've worked to address the roadblock that has detoured my progress for so long and discovered the most amazing irony. This insidious poison of fear is actually afraid of.. me. My power. The ability I have to not only dream, but to chase my vision down and capture the very thing my heart and brain know to be who I am.
Marianne Williamson's powerful statement has been playing on a loop for me recently- forcing me to come to the realization that the very thing I've been afraid of is the power that was given to me.
Uncle Ben from Spiderman sums it up in one sobering sentence: With great power comes great responsibility. That responsibility is what frightens me. Can I handle it? Will I be able to write, speak up, stand up for those who have no voice in such a way that is dignified, impactful, and sustainable? I'm weary from the struggle. I think that's one of the goals of fear- to wear you out and prevent you from doing exactly what the world needs you to do. So I've decided that if I'm going to be tired of the struggle, weary from the effort, I'd much rather be tired and content- settling into my bed each night knowing I'm stewarding the power assigned to me with great honor. The revelation has been convicting, however as a great man named Jesus once said.. you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. 
We all have power simmering inside, waiting to be given permission to explode into the scenes prepared for us. I can no longer sleep with the enemy, the restlessness has grown too loud to ignore, and I'm ready to chose to live wide awake.

Full quote below: (note: This quote has been attributed to Nelson Mandela for a long time, and as much as I adore him and had believed it came from one of his speeches, research has shown that it originated with Marianne Williamson, and I wanted to give credit where it's due).

Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.
—Marianne Williamson

Invincible

I love Kelly Clarkson's song Invincible.
You should listen to it. It's my anthem these days. I spent so many years unsure of myself, feeling like a failure, afraid, and anxious and wounded.
When you're in a codependent relationship you spend all of your time preoccupied with making sure everyone else is ok. The inherent problem in that is you can never keep anyone in a place of wellness for any sustainable length of time, and in looking outward, you will always lose yourself.

I've written some about the challenges I've had with my kids and the difficulties I've faced with raising kids on the autism spectrum, but the painful part is that Samuel wasn't diagnosed until he was 8.  For 8 years of hardship, tantrums, chaos, I believed I was a failure. I had extended family tell me it was my fault, and I was being punished for something. I had strangers and doctors tell me to put him in time out more, or spank him more, and I spent years in shame and anger because I thought that my child's struggles were directly related to my inability to be a good mother. Years went by and I began to really believe I was a failure and there was no hope. I was unhappy as a mother, as a wife, and as a woman. I look back at pictures and can't believe how dead I looked. If you look at me now- at 38 compared to how I looked at 30, there is no comparison. I had resigned to a life of hurt, and guilt and shame, and disappointment. When you're a codependent you feel responsible for everything that happens. And so each event that happened to us felt like a cause and effect tightrope. I wasn't good enough or strong enough, or consistent enough, or smart enough or skinny enough to prevent all of the horrible things that were happening, and so I died inside some more. When I had to learn to stand on my own because of divorce, I began to realize I'm none of those things. I began to take responsibility for my part in my struggles, but no one else's behavior. I began to learn each of us have a reality that is based in our perception and it's not my job to make everyone like or understand me. It's only my job to take care of myself which will allow me to be the best mother I can be. Now I understand that none of the struggles my kids have suffered with are because of me. I'm sad I wasn't able to see my worth clearly enough then to love my children better, but when you know better, you do better, and so now I am. The amazing thing is that though we still have issues, and conflict and frustrations and struggles, I no longer internalize it as a deficit on my part. And because of that, my kids are doing better than they've ever done. I can see clearly the positive changes in them that are directly related to my rebirth into health. I am alive, and for the first time since childhood, I really enjoy myself again. I'm carving out my place in writing and editing to provide for my family and headed into living the dream I wanted for myself but had run from in defeat. I've learned I'm not weak or a failure. I will fail for sure, but I am strong and resilient and will always get back up. I no longer fear hurt and pain because I've proven to myself I can be knocked out but not taken out. I could kiss Kelly Clarkson for the words in this song- I know reading song lyrics can be tedious, so I encourage you to go listen to it and celebrate the strength of you! Even better if you belt it out at the top of your lungs!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQpGaAwlrkA

You know I was broke down, I had hit the ground
I was crying out, I couldn't make no sound
No one hears the silent tears collecting
You know I had lost hope, I was all alone
Never been so long till you came along
Teacher, I feel the dots connecting

Beat down on me, beat down like a waterfall
Cause I can take on so much more than I had ever dreamed
So beat down on me, beat down like a waterfall
Cause baby, I am ready to be free

Now I am invincible
No, I ain't a scared little girl no more
Yeah, I am invincible
What was I running for
I was hiding from the world
I was so afraid, I felt so unsure
Now I am invincible
Another perfect storm

Now I am a warrior, a shooting star
Know I got this far, had a broken heart
No one hears the silent tears collecting
Cause it's being weak, but strong in the truth I found
I have courage now, gonna shout it out
Teacher, I feel the dots connecting

Beat down on me, beat down like a waterfall
Cause I can take on so much more than I had ever dreamed
So beat down on me, beat down like a waterfall
Cause baby, I am ready to be free

Now I am invincible
No, I ain't a scared little girl no more
Yeah, I am invincible
What was I running for
I was hiding from the world
I was so afraid, I felt so unsure
Now I am invincible
Another perfect storm

I was running from an empty threat
Of emptiness
I was running from an empty threat
That didn't exist
I was running from an empty threat
Of abandonment
I was running from an empty threat
That didn't exist

Now I am invincible
No, I ain't a scared little girl no more
Yeah, I am invincible
What was I running for
I was hiding from the world
I was so afraid, I felt so unsure
Now I am invincible
Another perfect storm

The Tension of Uncertainty

I'm living in the tension inherent to single motherhood. The struggle between wanting what's best for my children and the reality that what I may be able to provide might fall impossibly short of that desire.

I have been living on my own, without a man, for more than two years.  I have a college education that follows my name, but after being a SAHM for so many years, it is virtually useless.  With four children who need some level of daycare should I be in a more traditional 9-5 job, I have found that my only viable option to provide is to do it in a non-traditional role. I live in a very expensive area.  I live in a more rural part of the suburbs and apartments aren't on every corner. We have many townhouses in this county, but those often cost as much, if not more, than the single family homes found in traditional neighborhoods.

This is the second home we've lived in since we had to leave the military base so quickly back in 2012.
I had no job and was shell shocked from the news I had been given, and no idea how to begin to take care of my kids on my own.  As God often does, the path out and into new life began to illuminate one step at a time.  I was offered a place to rent by someone I was connected to in my church community.  It was about half of the more traditional rental homes (in size and cost) but it would house us.  My family came and helped me wade through 12 years of marriage and family 'stuff' and pack, and purge, and store everything so that I could move my family forward.  The military housing we had been in was 2000 sq feet with a three car garage, and we had managed to fill every corner of it.  The new home was about 800 sq feet with no added storage, and the change felt daunting.  Somehow, I managed to figure out what was necessary and what could wait, and we filled the cozy space with our sagging, broken hearts.  That small space proved to be a healing island as we bumbled into a new life together.  The tight space held us close, and I think we all drew comfort in the small rooms as we desperately needed to trust and depend on one another.

I babysat some through my time there and did odd jobs to start creating provision on my own.  Seven short months after we settled into that space it was time to move on and we were blessed to be rescued by the family I had been babysitting for.  We moved into their basement. It had a partial kitchen, and two much larger bedrooms than the ones we had been squeezed into before, and a gigantic yard to run in.  It also was about 1100 sq feet, and it felt like we were moving up in the world. The five of us brought our noise, our angry hearts and our stuff into the home of another family. I helped babysit their son throughout the next year and when they moved out, we were able to move into the whole house.  We were now stretched out into 5 bedrooms and 2500 sq feet. I finally exhaled.  I had no earthly idea how I would be able to pay the rent that was more than any house I'd ever lived in.  I was providing almost fully on my own as our child support is a small fraction of what the children need.  I was willing to do anything I needed to do to provide and keep them out of day care.  I mowed yards, cleaned houses, babysat, and worked as a photographer.  I sold more things that I discovered we no longer needed and prayed hard that God would see us and remember us. Somehow, since last summer, I have been able to take care of my family.  Some months brought checks in the mail from strangers or friends, some months brought unexpected work for me, some months were complete miracles, but here we are, going on 7 months since we took over the house and I am not behind on anything I am responsible for.  But change is at my doorstep again. The homeowners own two homes and have a large business, and selling this house is the best option for their family. The buying/selling season for real estate is coming in mere weeks, and so we are to be out of this house by the end of February.  I am struggling to find someone to rent to us because my income is so new.  I don't have years of rental history or work history to prove to them that I'm not a risk.  My good references could fill a book, but homeowners want a sure thing. A single mom with many part time jobs and four children does not look like a sure thing. It's the end of January, and I'm not sure yet where I will take my children.
These kinds of jagged places in life have a way of growing and challenging faith. I vacillate between feeling hopeful that I will again see miraculous provision, and utter despair when I absorb the feelings of inadequacy that hover over my heart looking for any entrance to bring decay to my faith.  Friends and family champion me with 'God's got this Heather!' and 'I'm praying for you girl!' And while both of those statements bring some comfort and truth, the reality is that my faith in God and love of who He is doesn't promise me a life without struggle. There are millions of moms who love God who are living with children in places that would make me want to curl up and die. There are many mothers whose love of their children and love of God wasn't enough to buffer their children from incredible heartache and pain, and yet, I still say… God is good.

I don't have a beautiful miraculous ending to this story.  March may find me in yet another basement of friends… filled with both relief at having a warm home, and anger that the life I thought I'd be living is so far from my reality that I can't even see it through the tears anymore.  I have full faith that my life story is still being written, and that it is beautiful, but as with many rich, full stories, there are often chapters that pull at the heart, and take the breath away… I just happen to be living inside of those chapters. I'm ready to see what's on the next page.

Fearless

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve.  The last day of 2014.  The wrapping up of this year and the preparation to welcome a new one.
I have spent many years as an anxious mess around New Years.  Fear would wrap itself around my heart and squeeze tight until I wanted nothing more than to go to bed and wake up sometime mid-February.  Beyond the flurry of resolutions and high hopes for a new year, new self, new life.
My fear was so thick, so real, so intense, that I hated this time of year. I would begin looking over the months behind us and then realize that one of these years I will face loss… one of these new years celebrations will mean that I leave behind a year that held someone I love and walk forward into a new year that won't hold that person inside of it.  I would struggle to exhale, knowing that someday, some year, loss will inevitably come.

2012 was the year loss came to my doorstep. The year I lost in grand proportions; the year I walked out of a year that held someone I loved and into a new year without him.  Two new year's eves later, I am here. Standing. Strong.  I bear scars and have lost some innocence I needed to shed.  My eyes are wide open to hurt that can strike harshly from the belly of one you called lover, and my heart is both flung wide open to beauty as well as guarded against anything that smells anything like what I've experienced before.  I've walked through the darkest forest of grief and come through into the dawn. I've hurt and bled and raged and numbed out and here I am.  I'm not afraid anymore.  I feel the fibers of my being pulled taut in strength, reverberating with the awareness that I can do hard things.  I can be slashed and bruised and torn, but not defeated.  I have the wide open awakening that life comes to each of us, but the places of darkness and wounding need not be the end of ourselves… in fact, I feel reborn, new, thankful and grateful to get to sift out the excess filth to uncover the beauty that was waiting for me underneath.  I feel the sun living in my chest, the full life that comes not from money, or an easy life, but from the deep knowing that come what may, I will be ok.  I can do this life.  I can take a beating and rise again. I am enjoying myself in ways never afforded to me inside of a relationship that was more than a little off kilter.  I am free to explore what it is that brings me joy, and the more light that pours inside of me spills out into my children.  I find my delight in their faces. They see my contentment and snuggle into that safety like a warm cocoon.  They have watched me navigate hurtful and difficult things and keep moving.  They are learning through my dark forest that pain isn't something to be afraid of, but to be stared down and plowed through.

This New Year's Eve I will stand in the light of the midnight moon and throw my arms open wide. I welcome 2015, knowing as a sage that it will bring brokenness as well as joy. It will hold confusion, sadness and hurt, but it will also be bursting with newness and opportunity and places to dive deeper into this life that was gifted to me.  I can't wait to unwrap it and savor what it holds.

Living in the Tension

Yesterday a few guys came to the house to help me truly move in.  The other family moved out in the middle of July, but I wanted to paint some, and needed some muscles to move around our furniture and to bring in some large pieces that I had in the garage.  Until yesterday, we were all still living downstairs for the most part. 
 I scribbled their names onto a box in my calendar for August 6th. They came to serve me with kindness and skill and in a few short hours, the house was looking like home. 

After they left, I sat at my antique farm table and stared out through the big front window.  The amazing reality of giving my children their own space again and moving into my own bedroom for the first time in 20 months was settling in.  I breathed deeply with the realization that we are truly on our own, and sat in the serenity for about 3.6 seconds before anxiety tried to barrel in with guns blazing. 

Nothing about my life makes sense on paper right now. Financially, my life is a mystery. I do the best each month with what I have, I do the work I'm given to do, and somehow, by some incredible miracle, each month everything is taken care of that we truly need. I have yet to get to the end of my resources and I haven't yet had to ask for help. We've been without my ex-husband now for 22 months. Some months have brought surprise money in the mail from friends who felt like sending me a bit extra. Other times, I've received food, or gift cards, hand me down clothing, or toys. Several times, I have even opened the mail box to find a care package filled with treats and surprises for me to encourage my weary heart.  Somehow, God takes the little I have and stretches it in such a way that there haven't been any cracks. But our minds can be a scary place to linger, and in that moment after the guys had left, and my kids had scattered to their own spaces, I began to rehearse how utterly ridiculous I must be to think that I could do this alone.  The joy of being in my own space was robbed by the anxiety that lurked, ready to pounce into massive disastrous thinking.  In the span of a few seconds, the track record God has in my life of providing for us was smashed under the weight of the fear I let descend upon my heart.  

I talked with a dear friend later in the day. She has been a single mother for several years now after a 25 year marriage dissolved when he chose to walk out.  She has been an example to me of learning to do with less than she ever dreamed and yet seeing her needs be met as she goes.  I told her that the fear of knowing tomorrow could hold complete financial disaster was a heavy burden to bear.  But as I spoke the words aloud, I finished the thought by saying, the reality is all of us are one moment away from disaster or destruction. None of us are immune to difficulty or struggle, it is just that living the lives that we have, we are more acutely aware of it on a daily basis.  We live in the tension of the now.  We don't have the luxury of planning for much, or banking the excess for future calamity.  We have the responsibility of weighing this day's choices and needs against the near future that we know will bring more want.  Just today I was faced with the decision of whether or not to buy the epipen I now need to carry as this year has revealed a bee allergy.  It was hundreds of dollars, and I've put off picking it up because the amount made me anxious. Today I had the money. So today I chose to get it.  I know that in one month I might wish for the money I spent today, but knowing the power in that life saving medication, and having the money for this day, I made the best choice I could make for today. I'm slowly learning the lesson of doing the best I can with what I have and trusting that I will get enough grace, enough mercy, enough provision for the next day, and the next, and the next.  

My Dad sent me this quote today, and it's an eloquent statement about living in the now, in that tension of living as we go:

"The heart of spirituality isn't safety and security. Instead, it is what Dorothy Day called 'precarity.' In the mind of most, precarity (or precariousness) is a bleak state of uncertainty and danger. The word connotes instability, poverty, marginalization, and the absence of a safety net....It also suggests radical dependence: the Latin 'precarious' is the state of being dependent on another's will, being upheld or sustained by another's force. So a spirituality centered on precarity acknowledges the radical uncertainty or contingency of human existence and our utter dependence on God." — Kerry Walters in Jacob's Hip: Finding God in an Anxious Age

The beauty of living in precarity is that I am faced with a simple choice. Either I trust that God is who He says He is, and He will provide for me and my family, or I fight it and try to conjure up miracles for myself. I don't have a good track record of creating something out of nothing. I haven't yet figured out how to open doors for work and influence when there seems to be no knob on the door. I do have almost 2 years and a notebook filled with line after line where I've documented the incredible ways my family has been seen, cared for, loved, and provided for. I still don't know how this will work. My rent is up now in this house, and I'm truly on my own. But each day brings what I need for that day. Each job I'm offered, each bit of mana I'm showered with has been enough. My Mother's heart longs to race ourselves out of this place of precarity, and yet the beautiful, miraculous story that is being written is one I would never have experienced otherwise. I'm learning to sit in that tension of precarity, and choosing daily to fling my hope and faith on the one who has seen me.

My own Amen (which also means... So Be It)

I'm sitting in a place in my life where the only way out will have to be fairly miraculous.  Within the next few months, my living expenses are going to rise considerably, and I will have to find more ways to bring in income.  Just in time for the kids to be home all summer, and me not to have any child care options.  I have to continue to find non-traditional ways to provide for them, and on paper things look anything but attainable.

The truth is, that I don't have all the answers. I haven't fully figured it out and I am not sure what our lives are going to look like over the next months and year.

But I have a deep resounding peace.  I have wondered, at times, if my peace is just an illusion, possible denial, or avoidance, but I really believe in the depths of my being that we are going to be ok.  God has shown in so many ways over the last year and a half that I am not forgotten and that I will be provided for.  Nothing is impossible with Him.

However, I'm also aware that my circumstances are complicated, looming large, and overwhelming.  When others hear what I need to do to take care of my children and how big it is, they often become concerned for us.  I have found myself worrying and being anxious for the benefit of other people.

Have you ever noticed that the work of worry and anxiety can mimic forward motion?  The act of being concerned, and anxious looks like action and involvement.  Conversely, sitting in peace and surrender can look a lot like inaction. avoidance. delusion. laziness. 

I'm having to navigate the path of working hard behind the scenes to set in place the pillars of support that will enable us to live in this area for the next months and years to come.  But doing that without anxiety, and without outward displays of fear can look suspiciously like I am not driven enough, not motivated enough, or not sufficiently afraid.  Somehow, my fear and worry comforts others who are worried for me. It's as though my concern lets them know that I have not forgotten how big this is and that I am scared enough to admit it is beyond me.

I don't know what our future will hold. I have no idea how this will all fall into place to take care of our needs and work into the structure of my big family; but I do have an undergirding of peace. Of just knowing that we will come out on the other side.  It might be messy.  I'm quite sure that it will look completely different than it looks for other families, but I believe that it will also be beautiful, and miraculous, and hard, and good.

I'm choosing to follow advice given by Glennon Melton from Momastery that I heard this last weekend at the Womankind conference- to just Let.It.Be.  To stop trying to make my circumstance be anything other than what it is.  To allow the path designed for us to unfold ahead of us, and though I can only see a few feet ahead, I will trust that the path won't suddenly disappear, but will rather continue to be formed ahead of me leading me into the life meant for my family.  I am ready to walk it. To turn from worry and anxiety that I have coddled for the comfort of other people and rather move inside of the gift of peace.  To work, and pray, and rest, and just Let It Be.

Dear God, make me a bird, so I can fly; far far away from here....

I know I already wrote a bit about the movie Frozen- so just bear with me once again...

The movie really speaks to me and the message is haunting... in the best sort of way.

There is a scene where the younger sister has gone after her older sister to get her to come home.  The older sister essentialy has a meltdown and flips out... from fear. The song ends dramatically with the older sister yelling "I can't" and hurting her younger sister with her magical powers (which she has yet to learn to hone properly.)
The reality is, that the sister has strong powers... and they can be used for harm, or for good... but her fear becomes her greatest enemy and keeps her from living life and benefiting those around her.  So instead of using her powers and gifts, she hides them. Thinking she is protecting herself and everyone else.  The consequence is that the beauty that comes from her power is also lost.

I am sitting in a place in life where I can completely relate.
When my life veered so violently off course almost a year and a half ago, I needed a place to go. To start to breathe. To heal.  I had nothing. No resources, no job, no plan, nothing. Somehow, God always showed up and threw out the net just as I was about to hit the ground.  I've been saved from complete destruction in ways that still astound me.

Life isn't easy for us.  I've been slammed down and had the wind knocked out of me, and it's been hard to try to catch my breath. Thankfully, I've been in a place for the last 7 months where I can rest a bit.  I'm still working hard and trying to figure out my role as a single mom of 4 while also acquiring the new role of main provider.  Due to the fact that my children are still fairly young, I would need child care for them, and the reality is, I can't afford it with any job I could get outside of the home.  Thankfully I've been able to piece together photography, babysitting, writing, ebay, some help from others, some child support, and lots of grace in order to provide for my children.  But the time of hiding is coming to an end... the time to stop being afraid and jump out into a new world is looming large on the horizon.

I have been feeling paralyzed by fear.  The reality is.... that at the end of your life you look back and see that it's been a series of choices, and I'm in a place where my choices are going to pave the road for myself and four other people.  I'm excited and also terrified.  Fear can lead to complete lock up.  I can see the things I feel I've been gifted with and I want to use them to provide for my children, but the fear of failure, and the fear of success, and the fear of the unknown, and the fear of rejection, all swim together in my mind and prevent me from that giant shove against resistance into movement forward.  Any movement. I've been working through some of this over the last weeks, and have talked with my counselor, a couple dear friends and my parents and I know that I have amazing support.  I'm thankful that in a time when I have to provide for my children in a nontraditional way that I have skills that can translate into provision.... but I've never sat in this place before.  I've never had to be the provider. My identity is shifting, and I am having to lean into it in order to survive. I have had my share of meltdowns when I too have screamed "I can't!", but thankfully, there have been people who love me standing right there to turn me back around and push me forward and remind me again that yes, I can.

I don't want fear to stop me and push me into the darkness in hiding. Rather I want the uncertainty to be motivating, and pressing and powerful in the best kind of way. I have a lot of days where I am completely terrified, and when I look at my life on paper, nothing makes sense.  I am having to walk through doors I never dreamed I would even be knocking on and trust that on the other side of them, I will know which room to walk into.  I am having to trust that the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior when it comes to God's faithfulness; knowing that the miraculous ways I've been provided for won't dry up because I've used up too much grace. I'm having to believe people when they tell me that they love me and won't let me fall. I'm standing in very thick fog but I can see the halo of light off in the distance.  My job is to keep moving towards the light.  The time of my incubation and hiding is coming to a close.  I would be lying if I told you I felt ready.  But I will trust that as I jump from the nest that the wings I've been resting and tending to will unfurl in strength and steadiness and that somehow, fear will fall and I will fly.

My name is Heather and I'm a recovering blogaholic

I used to read mommy blogs the way that other women read erotic novels.  I had a problem and I don't mind admitting it (now).  I would pour over words that other moms wrote and then use them as measuring tapes for how I was doing as a mother.  (For the record?  I usually decided I was coming up short. Failing miserably. Most likely to send their children to therapy first.) But I couldn't stop. The addiction of punishing myself with their words and stories and beautiful photos was one that was damaging and yet strongly drew me in day after day.

I was so sensitive to how many places I wasn't 'doing it right', that each word, every birthday party photograph, each recipe to save my family tons of money while also nourishing their growing bodies felt like a personal affront to my mothering style.

I don't read blogs much anymore.  Not because I don't like them, but because I all too often dive in head first and find myself writhing in physical pain because I have never given my children a themed birthday party with colorful balloons and a catered cake.  The pinterest laced craft ideas that mock my feeble attempt at engaging my children with art are everywhere these days, and for me?  the best choice is to not engage.  Essentially I'm a mommy-blogaholic, and the best remedy for that is to abstain.  I do however, read Momastery.  Her raw honesty, admission of mess and struggle, and ability to laugh at herself connects me to her at a soul level.  I'm absolutely sure we could be the best of friends if she would let me come and sit at her feet while soaking in her common-sense knowledge.
She had a post recently that has stuck with me and brought some freedom into my heart.  She wrote this and you really need to go and read it.

She talks about how other women aren't 'parenting at us'.  Let that sink in for a moment.  Other women are not parenting at us.
Roll that around in your heart... start to fill in the holes with other ways that that applies...
That other woman? The one wearing the amazing dress that you would secretly love to wear but feel too tall, fat, skinny, old, young.. fill in the blank- she is not wearing that dress at you.
The room mom who likes to make fancy cupcakes for every holiday known to man, and bring in special origami valentines that she and her first grader slaved over is not crafting at you. The career mom who manages to not only work an amazing job but still be the den mother for boy scouts is not den mothering at you. 
The teenage girl with the skinny body whose shorts show a little too much... ahem, muscle, is not being beautiful at you. (well, maybe she is, just a little) The point is, we all too often take our own insecurities, struggles, and mess and use them to paint across everyone else and absorb that negative junk back into our hearts in such a way that affirms to us that we are not enough.

Not enough.
Not.....kind enough. skinny enough. smart enough. gentle enough. beautiful enough. tall enough. stylish enough.  we paint everyone else with our 'not enough-ness' and then treat them as the enemy... instead of confronting the lies we're telling ourselves.
Isn't is easier that way?  It was for me.  It was easier for me to think that other women were homeschooling at me rather than to be vulnerable enough to admit that I was choosing not to homeschool because it didn't work for me.  It's easier to get angry at all the other moms or women who appear to be living closer to the expectations we had for ourselves, and press the disappointment of life into their choices rather than to sit in the reality of the life we are living.

I'm becoming freer and happier as I am beginning to be able to live in this reality.  I took two of my children to Awana at church this evening. (Sort of like scouts- but at church) And was laughing on the phone with a friend as I told her that for us?  Showing up with our supplies was a win.  Other moms work hard to help their children learn the memory verses for the week, and read the stories nightly to them before tucking them in... these children are receiving patches for their hard work and memorization skills.  I laughingly asked my friend how I could get the patch for just being there. Showing up. Wearing matching shoes.  For my family, in this season, that is a great feat.  That's my reality.  The mothers who are working nightly with their kids to help them memorize the weekly verses aren't doing that at me... they are doing the best job they can... inside of their reality.
When you begin to see that each of us is doing the best we can.. at that moment.. with what we know and what we have to work with in the way of skill and giftings.. you stop thinking everyone is living at you and begin to see how much freedom you have to live in your present reality with the grace you are provided in your own circumstances.  The post Glennon wrote has singed my heart.  The message went down deep and has allowed me to laugh at myself and the complete pridefulness it exposes as I start to recognize how much I can make it about me.  The irony is that freedom is allowing me to be a better mother.  The headspace I was renting out to lies is now free to be inhabited by grace.  And that is where I want to be.

bigger than me

I'm in a place where i need God to be big.  bigger than I've ever seen Him.  i need to be able to provide for my family over the next year (and beyond) in ways i never dreamed I'd be providing.

I have always been an anxious person.  Worry was a way of life for me. I spent a huge part of my life projecting into the future and planning out each road that life may possibly take.  Now, I am in a season where there isn't much I have control over.  I am being forced to live each day as it comes, and enjoy that day for what it is.
I am blessed to be living in a place now where my living costs are down. But, by next spring (summer at the latest) my expenses will go up quite drastically, and I have to figure out how to pay the bills.
The incredible thing is that I can see the thread of His provision throughout my entire life.. and over this last year He has come on strong in such incredible ways that I can't doubt his care for me.  I know without a doubt that He has made a way for me through this year. I've kept a notebook of the amazing ways He has provided, and they knock my socks off.  One day, I'll share some of them here...
the incredible thing is that because I have seen Him make a way so practically and perfectly over this last year, my anxiety is almost nonexistent.  On paper, I know I should be terrified, but deep in the dark places of my soul where fear and doubt try to dwell, I have solid peace. Knowing that though this is bigger than me, it will be ok. I remember telling Him in prayer one evening when I didn't know where I would be living and needed to find a place quickly, that because things were so desperate, I knew without a doubt that the way out would have to be through Him.  He didn't disappoint.  He created a scenario for me and my kids that has been better than I could have manufactured on my own.  I'm blown away by the way He has cared for the details, and am overwhelmed with the knowledge that this newest need is not lost on Him.  I can't wait to see where it leads, and I know again, that however I get out of this will be clearly an act of God.  We'll watch and see.