We Do Christmas Big

And honestly...I'm not sorry about it.

Two years ago, Jonathan & I posted pictures of our gifts on social media after we had ripped through all the pretty paper and opened everything up. We felt a little twinge of guilt as we looked back when we realized how much money we had spent.

Last year, Jonathan told me we probably shouldn't post any pictures of our gifts. I agreed whole-heartedly. We didn't want people to think we were boasting in celebrating Christmas big, and we definitely didn't want anyone thinking we didn't celebrate the true meaning of Christmas.

But honestly...why do we let others' thoughts get in our way? We know what we celebrate. We know why we celebrate. We know traditions our families hold -- we both read the Christmas story & reflect on how abundantly blessed we are. We know that Jesus was probably not even born on December 25th, but sometime around this date. We understand how precious and important the celebration of Christmas is. We realize we have more than we could ever dream of having at our young age. We have been blessed far more than we ever deserved or could have hoped for.

So why are we ashamed that we do Christmas big? There are a lot of gifts under our tree, and most of them are for Jonathan & me... (and Luna). Our families have both celebrated Christmas BIG our entire lives. My parents have always given Ellie & me the world, and it was no different on Christmas morning. Same with Jonathan's parents for him and Katherine. Just because we give lots of gifts doesn't make us less of a Christian.

I am not suggesting you change your views or your ways just because we celebrate big. If you don't  partake in giving lots of gifts, or any gifts at all on Christmas, that is perfectly fine! Those are your traditions! But I'm tired of walking on my tiptoes around the holidays because we have lots of presents under our tree.

Y'all, our house is *tiny*. Our tree literally takes up a good chunk of our living room. You can't even walk around the tree area because it's so tight over there. But our house is cozy. Our hearts are full of love. And we are happy.

Jonathan and I know the organizations and people we give to each year at Christmas. The Lord knows our hearts, and I don't think we will have to give an account for giving lots of gifts to each other on Christmas Day.

This has been on my heart all season long. Big Christmases are our tradition. It's a day to celebrate how blessed we are, how sweet of a Savior we have been given, and how close our family is to one another. I love Christmas time. I love giving gifts. I love getting gifts! I love celebrating Christ, his birth, and what a miracle his birth was for all of us. 

Merry Christmas to all of my sweet readers. May your Christmas be warm, happy, and wonderful.

Taboo...But Why?

I wrote about my battle with Anxiety about a year ago, and it got an outrageous response. I made a disclaimer at the very top that I had never sought professional help; that I had never experienced anxiety to a level that required me to dive into medication or anything of the like. Since then, things have changed.

My case got so bad that I knew something was going on, but I didn’t want to speak up and look weak. Writing my post was kind of my way of speaking up and my attempt at making things better on my own. I didn’t want to just be another number in a sea of anxiety and depression studies. I held my issues inside. I kept them to myself. They were mine and I was to deal with them on my own. I concluded that I would not tell a soul – in person at least. Writing to hundreds of people was different to me. It was an outlet, not a cry for help.

I never understood those quotes or posts on tumblr, twitter, or Instagram that talked about how speaking up wasn’t a weakness, it was a strength. I never understood how asking for help could actually… help. I never thought this would be me. I never realized how important it is to speak up. 

Jonathan and I were lying on the couch one night when it all came out. He asked what was wrong, and instead of brushing it off as being tired like I did every other night, I actually told him.

“I think I’m depressed,” I confessed. He looked at me quizzically, not sure he wanted to accept it. But I knew he understood every single word.

“Have you prayed about it?” he asked. I had, but not like I should’ve been. I cried and told him everything while he just held my feet and listened. (Side note: it’s a super quirky trait of mine, but I love for Jonathan to hold my feet. First of all, it warms them up [cue Cold Hands, Cold Feet post] and it also comforts me in a way I can’t explain.) He told me I needed to tell my mom.  So I did the next day – a Sunday. She told me I needed to call the doctor the next day. So I did.

My appointment wasn’t for another month, but I knew I had taken the first step in getting help. That day finally rolled around, I was prescribed a very low dosage of an anti-depressant, and here I am.

I don’t tell you for your pity. I’m able to handle my stuff. I tell you because I know someone needs the nudge of encouragement to go tell someone and get help. It really isn’t a sign of weakness but of strength to get out there and tell someone what you’re going through. Don’t ever try to hold your taboo skeletons in.

And that’s the thing. Why are these issues still considered taboo? SO many people -- people you would probably never expect --  have these issues. And we still try to be so hush-hush about them. Well here I am. I was diagnosed with depression. But you know what? That doesn’t define me. I take medicine. It helps the chemicals in my brain balance out. My serotonin levels were off, so I got prescribed a pill. It doesn’t make me crazy. It makes me function. It makes me strong. If I had kept quiet, who knows where I would be right now?

I pray about my issues. I really do. And I really believe I can and will be healed from this crazy disease. And yes…it’s a disease. It eats away at you in a way that’s too difficult for me to try to put into words. But while I’m praying for healing, I’m so very thankful for my doctor and the medicine he put me on. It has made me able to live again. I truly believe doctors are on Earth for a reason. God gave us doctors to diagnose sicknesses that medicines can heal. I just don’t think it’s necessary to become dependent on your meds when you can speak the Word of God and His promises over your life. Doing this will make your problems diminish.

I just can’t wait for Heaven. When there is no more sickness. No more anxiety. No more depression. I hate it so much and I can’t wait to be in an eternal place where it is no more.

Depression is real. Anxiety is real. I know what it’s like to be in a room full of people and not be able to look up from your feet. And I know what it’s like to get home from work, sit in your chair and zone out into nothingness because reality is too daunting. It’s a real thing. And I know what it’s like to sit in a chair while your heart is racing and your hands are shaking and you’re really not sure why other than anxiety washed over you out of nowhere. The fact of the matter is: so many people go through this and you CAN be helped.

 Get out there. Get help. Speak up. It’s not a weakness. Speaking up is a strength. Telling someone your struggles can help you more than you may ever know. Let’s quit making depression and anxiety something we brush under the rug. It’s a real thing and it deserves to be spoken up about.

I love you all. Jesus loves you all way more than I ever could dream of. If you need help, reach out to me. I’ve been there and I know how hard it is, but trust me: it doesn’t have to be this way. You are loved more than you will ever know by someone who died to know you. Revel in that and find your peace in that. 

This is temporary and this too shall pass…

Cold Hands, Cold Feet

My hands and my feet are constantly ice cold. I have to have fuzzy socks on, covered up with a blanket, and sitting Indian-style with my feet tucked in between my legs for my feet to ever feel warm. Sometimes I make a cup of coffee just to hold so my hands can warm up. I already have bad circulation, so when it’s cold outside: game. over.

I didn’t get Cold Feet on our wedding day. The biggest day of my life, and I didn’t think twice about it. Of course Jonathan and I had talks throughout our engagement making sure this was *really* what we wanted, but it always was and I never had doubts or cold feet.

But the little things..that’s where I get cold feet. Starting new jobs. Doing something new with my hair. Going to a new restaurant. Trying to make new friends. Trying to rekindle old friendships. Buying a statement piece of jewelry. And before I know it, cold feet over the little things turn into cold feet over bigger things. Traveling. Writing more. Saying to heck with my 401K and living in the moment. Letting the Holy Spirit have full control over me & using me in ways that could make me uncomfortable.

Cold feet have taken over my life, in a sense. I’m afraid to live because of cold feet over the small things. Have you ever been so fearful of life in general that you missed out on something big? I know I have. I hope I’m not alone. To me, having cold feet about something isn’t a sign of weakness, but of caution. It’s okay to be cautious, but don’t let it take over your life. I’m on a mission to live life with passion and to pursue my dreams. To make a difference. To  love myself. To live happily. To BE happy. To be full of joy. To love God. To love others. To love life.

Slip on your fuzzy socks. Knock those cold feet out of here. Start living.

Squashing the Ants

So...we have ants. Well, we've had them. They're still here, but where we were having upwards of 100-200 a day, we're now seeing about 30-40 a day. But still. Ew. To put it simply: they're disgusting. We've been standing over them with our phone flashlights, microscopically watching them scurry around our already-dark-squiggly-designed-counters. Jonathan is so intrigued with smashing them with his thumb & then brushing them away like they *didn't* just land on my kitchen floor. (Love ya babe.) But my husband's tactics got me thinking...

We're really quick to dwell on the "ants" in our life and examine them like they're under a microscope. But are we quick to brush them away into our kitchen floor? What I'm getting at is this: the ants in our lives are the things we get so caught up over. And while we might say or think they're no big deal, we're actually dwelling over them to the point that they're eating away at us.

Seriously. These ants (the literal ones) have taken over my life. I had a nightmare last night where there were thousands of them on my counter and all I could do was stand and stare. In real life, I've been checking in on them daily -- just standing and staring. Is this how you're treating a certain issue in your life? An issue that really isn't that big of a deal, but you're staring at it under your microscope and turning it into a huge deal?

We've finally decided to get an exterminator to come & spray them to their death. Stay with me here, but I think we should be quick to call our Exterminator. Jesus. When things get big and start taking over, why do we take our precious time turning to Him? It's taken us a few days to decide to call the exterminator, because we just assumed we could get rid of the ants on our own. Turns out, they're not so easy to get rid of. That's the way life should be. Instead of trying to squash our ants, kill them, and brush them into the floor on our own, we should be quick to turn to the One who can fix our tiny problems from the get-go. It would save a lot of stress. It would save a lot of time. It would save a lot of heartache. Jesus. Our Exterminator. He's just a call away. Is my ant analogy weirding anyone else out? But really...it's so true. Instead of moseying over our depression, our anxiety, our jobs that leave us exhausted, our angst with family members, our comparison with our friends...why don't we just automatically call on Jesus, the One who can squash all of our Ants in the twinkling of an eye? 

Just food for thought. Skip out on the Terro. Call the Exterminator. 
He will squash those ants quicker than we could ever fathom.

Find Your Tribe

This past weekend, my family and I traveled to Stamping Ground, KY under the most heartbreaking circumstances. My Uncle Killis, an avid cancer fighter & cancer overcomer for the past 13 years, passed away and went Home late last week. When I first heard the news, I was devastated. My Uncle Killis – the one with the best hugs, the “funny Uncle”, the one who was always smiling – gone. My mom called me & told me on my lunch break at work. She told me she hated to tell me over the phone, but she wanted me to know. Cold pizza in hand, my throat got tight and my eyes welled with tears. There in the modern black and silver break room on the second floor of my work, I sat…devastated. “No…it doesn’t feel real,” were the only words I could choke out.  

I was dreading going. Not for fear, not for myself, but because I didn’t want to see my family hurting. My three cousins and my Aunt Melani are some of the strongest people…and to see them hurting hurt me. 

I learned something about my uncle this weekend. He was very clearly the Class Clown of his group of friends. He was always causing mischief, making everyone laugh, and leaving people on the edge of their seats with whatever prank he was going to come up with next. He was part of a group of friends who called themselves “The Tribe.” This will stick with me forever.

Various members from The Tribe spoke at his funeral telling the sweetest, funniest, happiest memories. Killis gave wisdom, brought smiles, eased the tension, and absolutely loved life – it was evident in the testimonies of his friends. 

I got to thinking. Everyone needs their own Tribe. A group of friends who support you, hold you accountable, laugh with you, cry with you, and everything in between. What’s life without a Tribe? I don't want to go on without knowing any longer. I don’t think you’re ever too old to find yours. I know Killis would’ve wanted the best for everyone he loved. I know he would’ve wanted us to all have our own Tribe.

Get out there, make friends, and find your Tribe. Thank you, Killis, for your legacy. You loved big, you celebrated happily, you made everyone feel at ease; so many people respected the man you were. The things your friends said about you have inspired me to be the best person I know how to be, and to get out there and find my Tribe. 

Hurt

I don't know who hurt you. I don't know what you've been through that's taken you to your current place. What I do know? We've all been hurt, and we're all going through something.

To the young girl hiding behind her smile, her grades, her music, her sports, whatever it may be: I've been there. You're not alone.

To the young man hiding behind his secret fears, his parents' wrath,  his grades, his sports, his addictions, his pride, whatever it may be: I've been there. You're not alone.

To the woman hiding behind her job, her comparisons, her imperfections, her weight, her foul language, whatever it may be: I've been there. You're not alone.

To the man hiding behind his finances, his marital struggles, his insecurities, his health issues, his career, whatever it may be: I've been there. You're not alone.

I may have not struggled through some of these things like you have, but I promise I've gone through more of them than you'd think.

We are all different, but we're all the same. We're all going through something and we're all trying to hide it, you know?

To the grown man who told me I was the dumbest person he had ever spoken to yesterday while I was just honestly trying to help: that hurt me. I've tried to forgive you, but I'm going to have to work on that a little longer. But you know what? I pity you. You've probably been hurt in the past and being rude is the only way you know how  to cope.

That's my point. We're all facing issues; things that are icky and unnecessarily difficult to be facing. We have no idea what someone else may be going through. We have no idea what medications they're reluctantly taking to try to be a more balanced person. We have NO idea what the doctor told their spouse, their aunt, their sister and that they're trying to cope through that. We have no idea what inner skeletons are torturing our peers' thoughts.

The beautiful thing is that we have the capability to be there for each other. If you're going through something, chances are, someone else very near to you is as well. Spread hope. Spread love. Spread cheer. You're not alone.

So even though I don't know who or what hurt you, I know someone probably did. Get out there  friend, with your chin up & your thoughts positive. That hurt doesn't have to define who you are anymore.

Fear

So..here I am. After over half a year, I've decided to sit down at my kitchen table (in a new house, might I add), with a piping hot cup of coffee by my side -- that has since gone ice cold, since I've sat and stared at this blank white screen for a couple hours now -- and write. 

My fear has been crippling me for 7 months. I'm so afraid of what others will think about my writing style, the words I use, the way I get my point across. I'm fearful of what others will say when they catch a glimpse inside my not-so-perfect life, marriage, and thoughts. But after 7 months of writer's block, fear of what others will think and say, and pushing my computer, journals, pens and loose-leaf papers away, here I am.

Has fear crippled you? Lately? Ever? It's so aggravating when fear grows the size of a Goliath. It can look different for all of us. There it is: standing in front of us, playing the game of Chicken with us, moving to the right when we bolt to the right, darting to the left when we try to creep by on the left. It consumes the way we live, think, act, and everything in between. MY problem is that I let it win...pretty much every time. 

Last Sunday, my father in law preached on Re-Firing; being the first to put your feet in the river & trust the presence of God when pursuing your dreams. Like the Israelites carrying the Ark of the Covenant across the Jordan River, we must TRUST that the Lord is going to part the waters & carry us through. And then yesterday we had a guest speaker. I was so tempted to stay at home from church...it is my three day weekend, after all. And I have so much house work to do...but Jonathan, in a very fatherly tone, told me he expected see me in the pews. I responded, "...okay, Dad. See you there." (He has to get there earlier than I do for sound check, so we drive separate every week). 

The guest speaker spoke on pursuing your dreams. Being an "all-in" type person. Trusting that the Lord will part the waters while you're staying faithful. Pushing your fears aside, because the timing will never be perfect. Being creative, and acting on it. 

Two weeks in a row. TWO WEEKS IN A ROW! the pastors spoke on pursuing your dreams, pushing your fears aside & trusting in the Lord. My father in law & the guest speaker hadn't planned this. This was the Holy Spirit moving in their hearts, them obeying the Word, and in turn, their words impacting a congregation. I was floored. How in the world could I have stayed home to CLEAN HOUSE and miss this?! 

We haven't been given a spirit of fear, you guys. That isn't from the Lord. We've been given a spirit of power, love, and of a sound mind. {2 Timothy 1:7} 

Pursue your dreams. Get out there and do something big. Life's too short to sit back and dwell on the what-ifs. If you love it, do it. It's time to start living the life God intended for you.

It's good to be back.

Easter

It's Easter Sunday! This day means the world to me and so, so many others. It's the greatest day in Christian history. This day gets me super giddy inside..I'm talking butterflies fluttering in my stomach, heart racing (and NOT the anxious kind but the super excited kind!!), tears welled up in my eyes type of giddy. We can't even fathom the death He endured for us, but He overcame death and rose from the grave! Jesus Christ died the worst death - a sinner's death - on a cross. The cross was vile, repulsive, and the worst way to go out. Yet, He lived sin-free and completely pure. 

He made the ultimate sacrifice for you and me so we could have life here on Earth. So that we could sin time after time and be forgiven over and over again. The LOVE that Christ showcased by that action absolutely boggles my mind. I didn't do anything to deserve that. He saw my pitiful, sin-filled, shame and guilt-ridden face that day on the cross. I don't understand. But the best part about it is that I don't have to understand. That's the beauty of grace. 

Death could not hold him, the grave could not keep Him from rising again!

Living - He loved me.
Dying - He saved me.
Buried - He carried my sins far away.
Rising - He justified freely forever.
One day He's coming,
Oh, Glorious Day!

Happy Easter, friends. He is Risen! My Redeemer lives!

Puppy Love

You guys. It's National Puppy Day! Anymore, these random holidays kind of spring up out of nowhere. So I'm not sure if this was even a holiday this time last year. If it was, I can assure you I did not celebrate. We found Luna online at a local breeder, instantly fell in love with her, and waited a few weeks until she was ready to come home. We got the call that she was ready, and were absolutely elated. Yes! A puppy will complete our family! Oh, how naive I was...

We brought Luna home on St. Patrick's Day last year. I did not know what I was in for. My self-centered world took a drastic turn as we welcomed this 2 pound yorkie into our home. 

Enjoying her first belly rub from her Papa Scott :) 

Jonathan and I got into an instant argument as soon as we got home about whether or not we should take her to my grandma's for our St. Patrick's Day dinner. We ended up not going. I couldn't believe what we had done. We had just thrown away life as we knew it: easy, simple, and no responsibilities. 

As the days and weeks passed on, I still couldn't bond with this dog. She was peeing and pooping everywhere. I couldn't get the training thing down. I would dread going home because I knew I was going to have to deal with her. Seriously, I cried every single time I looked at her. Jonathan was superman those first 3-4 months. He took her out every single time, played with her until she napped, and held her when she was being needy. 

We discussed giving her to family members to raise and have as their own. We briefly talked about taking her back. But in the back of our minds, we knew we had made a grown up decision and we were going to stick with it. 

I will say this: she only cried the second night we had her. She didn't make a peep the first night because I'm sure she was terrified. The second night she cried from 11:30-5 in the morning. Since then, she's been the best sleeper in the world! 

If we did one thing right, it was crate training. She loves her taxi and glady accepts going in when it's time for us to leave.

When we got Luna, my mind wasn't in the 'in it for the long haul' zone. The excitement of bringing a puppy home was short lived. But as time passed, somewhere along the way, I grew to be absolutely obsessed with this yorkie. She still makes me so mad sometimes. But we changed a few things about how we were raising her (we trained her to puppy pads..this has drastically changed our life! Think what you may...but she isn't your dog!) and that has made all the difference. Anymore, I can't imagine our lives without her. She is unashamedly our baby, and our little family of 3 is absolutely perfect for us right now. 

Lu is now around 6 pounds, has too much sass for her own good and if she isn't curled up in my lap sleeping, she's play-growling with her tail wagging, insinuating that she's ready for me to throw her plush octopus across the room, yet again, so she can only bring it back to me to chase down once more.

Luna brings so much laughter to our lives. She is the most loving, friendly four-legged creature you'll ever meet. She's full of wet, in-your-face kisses and the only time her tail isn't ferociously wagging is when she's snoozing. She's too smart for her own good, really, and while I do remember the days without her, I don't want to remember life without the pitter-patter of her paws walking on our floors and her hopping up on the back of the couch to watch the cars pass by while I'm getting ready for work. 

It's a lot of responsibility to bring a dog home. If I hadn't had Jonathan those first months, I'm not sure I would've made it. But I can only chuckle when I think about how far I've come. Jonathan was out of town a couple weeks ago for work, so it was just Luna & me. We had the greatest week ever and when he returned, Jonathan couldn't believe how attached she had become to me. 

If you don't have a dog but want one, really -- really -- weigh your pros and cons. You can make it, and you will make it. Shoot, you may absolutely love your dog from the get-go and never think twice about life as you knew it. But as many of you know, I'm the queen of second guessing my decisions, so I was just positive our lives were over. As time passed, I was positive that our lives were incomplete before our pup came along. 

Happy National Puppy Day! 

Sincerely,

Grateful

Today at work I was in a mood. Not awful, not great, just a mood. My coffee kept getting cold before I could finish it. If you can get a mental image of how frustrating that was, that's how my entire day went. 

I was letting very minuscule things bother me...some that were going on at work right in front of me, some that were just scenarios floating around in my mind. And then it hit me: there are people in the world who would love to snatch up my bad day and take it for their own. Those people in Brussels? Those people who went through a traumatic bombing this morning at the airport? Them. I'm sure they'd give anything to have not had to go through that and who would've gladly switched places with me at my desk. My throat got tight when I pictured their faces while all of that was happening. A cold chill whispered all over my body and my eyes welled up with tears when I pictured kids' eyes darting back and forth, trying to figure out what was going on. 

Those people would probably love to be at their desk having a bad day. But instead, that was what they dealt with today.

Why not me? Why not America? The world scares me.

Just two days ago we were at church, praying for our nation. We had absolutely no idea what was going to happen 48 hours later. We don't know what's going to happen in 2 days, much less 2 seconds. 

I just wanted to come on here to say that. 

Life is too short. Our next breath, nose sniffle, or eye blink isn't guaranteed. When things like this happen in our world it really puts things in perspective, doesn't it? I just dread bringing kids of my own into this scary place. I'm serious. I can't wait to be a mom, but man, I dread my kids having to see things like this before their own eyes.

My faith is what gets me through each day. I know that there will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, no more fears. There will be a day when the burdens of this place will be no more and we'll see Jesus face to face. {listen here}

Until then, I'll hit the ground with my knees and pray. Pray hard. Love on the ones you love the most. Embrace the good days, the bad days...embrace all the days. I guarantee your bad day was far, far better than most. 

---------

Lord, Jesus, today we lift up tear streaked faces to You.

Evil is real. And evil is horrible.

But evil will not have the final word.

Lord, Jesus, help us know and be comforted and be empowered by this truth. 

We bend our knees and ask for You to unleash Your most tender mercies on the lives that have been devastated by the horror in Brussels. Let them know You are there in the midst with every comfort they need. Let them feel our prayers and our love. 

God, help this broken, sin-soaked world. Help us shine Your light in this terrible darkness.

‪#‎PrayForBrussels‬

~Lisa TerKeurst

Battling with Anxiety and How I Cope

*Disclaimer: I've never had anxiety to the place where I sought professional help. I realize mine isn't near as bad as some people I'm very close with, so I don't make light of any of their individual situations.*

Yes, you read that right...I am yet another young adult who battles with this horrible problem-turned- fad within the last 5 years and I hope by reading this you get a better understanding of what it's like to deal with anxiety, whether you've personally experienced it or not.

When I was in elementary and middle school, anxiety was just a word that I heard every once in a while...actually no, I don't recall ever really hearing the word, much less knowing anyone who dealt with it. But it was typically being used to describe someone who had problems and needed some sort of professional help. It wasn't that big of a deal and it definitely wasn't what it is today. I don't know if it's just that I was younger and don't remember it, or if it really wasn't a big deal back then. But I do remember it coming over me out of nowhere all of the sudden and it hasn't permanently left me alone since.

Before I dive into all of this, I must say something: it speaks a lot about our generation that so many of us deal with this. Don't you think? Why is it that all of a sudden so many people are anxious, depressed, self-harming, etc.? Is the pressure too high? Is too much expected of us? Is too little expected of us and we're just a selfish generation? Is it that we're nothing but teenagers and 20-somethings that are far too dramatic for our own good? Should we channel this negativity into something else rather than dwelling on the fact that something is messed up inside of us? I don't know. I don't know why the term anxiety has become such a fad in the last 5-7 years. What I do know is the word anxiety makes me anxious in itself. You don't have to believe me, but just typing the word makes my heart race.

I grew up in a beyond wonderful family and home. My home life was not bad, negative, scary, or dreadful. My home life was absolutely amazing and I saw people all around me who were not as fortunate. My parents did every thing in their power to ensure that I had everything I needed, and while I had everything and more that I needed, they still did an awesome job at making sure I remained humble. Wow. My parents are awesome. I've said it once and I'll say it again - the pressure of having children and making sure they're raised into decent human beings seems like too much pressure to EVER take on. So kudos to all of you parents out there who have good kids. I realize it isn't always an easy job.

So, I grew up in an awesome environment. Nothing triggered my anxiety until my freshman year of high school. It was nothing the teachers or students were doing, it was just that I had come from a very small middle school where, although we didn't all hang out on the weekends together, we were pretty much all friends to some extent. I woke up excited to go to school every day in middle school. I'm 22 now, so reflecting back on days that happened 9+ years ago makes me feel so stinking old! There was nothing in the world that could dampen my spirits back then. Sure, I got into arguments with my friends and parents, and there were days I should've studied harder to get a better grade on that test, but nothing was ever bad. Life was good.

Enter: freshman year at MCHS. Like I said up there, it wasn't the teachers or students, it was just the size of the school. It wasn't bad at first, but as time progressed, things got worse.  I remember getting to school as late as I possibly could once I could drive, walking in with my head down and eyes on the ground, cheeks flushed because I was so nervous, and making a quick stop at my locker--just praying the bell would go ahead and ring so I wouldn't have to try to find an acquaintance in the Commons to visit with before class. This is the first time I ever remember having anxiety. And I think I put on a pretty good show most of the time. This was going on inside of me and I'm not sure if anyone even knew. There were days I did make it back out to the main room to visit with my friends. But wow. It was an obstacle and I dreaded walking into that building every single day.

I was always the kid who, when we had to read a paragraph person by person out loud in class, I counted the number of people in front of me, translated that to the number of paragraphs after the one we were currently on, and rehearsed my paragraph until I was sure I could get through it without choking. I'm an extroverted introvert, meaning I'm not painfully shy..I just prefer being alone or keeping to myself. So it wasn't that I couldn't read out loud, or read well for that matter. It was just the thought of reading out loud in front of 20+ people sent me into panic mode.

I've never had a panic attack. If I let myself dwell, I could. But I get myself out of my head in enough time when I'm feeling anxiety come on that I've never mentally let myself get to that spot.

And that's another thing. Anxiety IS in our heads most of the time. It's a mental illness, and some experience it so much worse than I do. It's in our heads because we let it be there. Now, on the flip side of that, I don't think it's always something we bring upon ourselves. Why? Because there are days I wake up, put my feet on the ground and already feel it creeping in my bones. I don't wake up having the thought, "Let's be anxious today!" No. I never want it. And I don't sit in big groups of people hoping it comes over me. It's when I let it win over me that it's in my head. Our thoughts are our reality. If we dwell on the anxiety, it becomes our reality and in a dangerous way.

I loathed high school up until my senior year. That's when I fell in love (rather, what I believed was love) and everything was good in my world most of the time. He and I fought like cats and dogs -- what do 18 year olds have to fight about, anyways? Haha. I just sit here, sigh-smile and shake my head thinking back..but I was in a relationship and finally! it was like I could overcome what was going on inside of me. Except not really, because we broke up, got back together, broke up, got back together...and the cycle continued halfway through my freshman year of college. This caused me to be a crazy person. My friends cringed from the sidelines, watching me stumble my way through those detrimental 2-ish years, but loved me through it as best as they knew how. And if any of you are reading this right now: thank you for being my friend through all of that.

I don't remember much about high school, to be honest. When I think back, I see a few moments that are like photographs in my mind. Hilariously enough, I can picture the first (and ONLY) speaking encounter I ever had with Jonathan. I remember having the flu at my senior basketball homecoming but forcing myself to go, because I literally thought the world would quit turning if I didn't make it. I remember enjoying Choir. That's honestly about it. What I remember most? Okay...what I do remember was feeling like I was constantly walking through a tunnel. Tunnel vision to the extreme, if you will. It was like if I could just walk to my next class and not make eye contact with anyone I would be safe until the next time the bell rang. Lunch in the cafeteria was a nightmare. I sat towards the back at the end of the table near the doors...just incase I had to get out quickly. After I entered my four digit ID number signifying I had paid for my food, my heart would start to race. Finding a table with familiar faces and making it there without slipping was my biggest hurdle to jump. If I could just focus on my feet...one foot in front of the other...walking with my tray - white knuckles and all - to my seat, I would be safe for the next 16 minutes or however long lunch was after waiting in line for some stale pizza.

If I could just make it through fourth block, I was done for the day. Anxiety wasn't such a worldy issue back then, so I didn't really think anything of it. I kinda just thought I was a weird kid who had some internal issues. With her permssion, I will tell you this. My best friend, Morgan, dealt with anxiety and panic attacks. To me, her case was to the extreme. Since I was so unfamiliar with the concept, I thought what she went through was the only form of anxiety. She went through a LOT. Morgs, if you're reading this, you're one of the strongest people I know. I love you!  So since I didn't really know what was going on with me, I just brushed off the clammy, shaky hands and heart racing feeling I had so many moments of every day. The bell would ring, I'd grab my books and head to my car - hoping and praying I wouldn't come in contact with anyone I'd have to talk to. And finally I was Home. Free. 

Having anxiety is exhausting. Mine is caused by fear. I'm afraid of big crowds. I'm afraid of driving. I'm afraid of passing semi trucks while driving. I'm afraid of any form of transportation, really. I'm afraid of getting sick. I'm afraid of big animals. I'm afraid of losing my job. I'm afraid of going broke. I'm afraid of so much that you all can't even begin to understand. But the way I cope? I take it to God. For real...He knows every pain, every fear, every gut-clenching moment that sends me into turmoil, every day I wake up with my heart already racing...


And He doesn't think I'm crazy. 

That. That is the most comforting thing. There are days I totally let my anxiety win out. My throat gets tight, I get teary eyed, my heart races and I HAVE to get home where I'm safe. This happened to me three weeks ago at church. I left early because I couldn't sit still in my seat any longer. On those days, I feel like a failure. I cry, and Jonathan holds me and tells me tomorrow will be better. (Have I mentioned how amazing he is? He's never felt any form of anxiety a day in his life but he tries to understand for my benefit.) But the best part about those days is that I know Who holds my tomorrows. My God reigns. My God is in control. My God is awesome.

I was driving to Paducah just yesterday and had to call Jonathan because I was feeling really overwhelmed and anxious. He talked me through it until I got my car parked. Traffic was bad so I was in panic mode. I don't know why I panic. If I'm going to wreck, I'm going to wreck. You know? 

And then I went to Ulta, and the tunnel vision thing started again. It just comes out of nowhere. It's hard to explain. I didn't let it win out; I dealt with it, but got out as soon as I could. Once I was back in my car by myself, it was like I was safe again.

I hope I don't sound really stupid to any who are reading...I'm just writing in hopes that if any of this resonates with you, please know that you aren't alone.

I know I'm free and I've had moments with God where I never thought this would be an issue inside of me ever again. I trust in Him and my faith is what gets me through the anxiousness. But sometimes, like I said earlier, I wake up and it's already there. Those are the days I try my hardest to persevere. Life with anxiety is weird, it's always up in the air, it's always uncertain. If you deal with it, you understand.

I'm still trying to figure out how to be the best Me. I definitely don't have it figured out, even though I really wish I did. The days that I have weird, panicky anxiety come over me...that isn't the best version of Me. I'm a kind, gentle person who has really odd, intriguing interests. Anxiety shouldn't be a part of my life. So when it shows up, I TRY to kick it to the curb. It doesn't always go down that way, but I'm trying. Be your best you. There are days it will win. It's all about effort. You can overcome this. We can overcome this! Life is going to happen, and whether we make the best of it is up to us.

I just really encourage you to pray, open the Word, dive into it and find some sort of Truth if you can relate to this. And even if you can't...it never hurts to pray, open the Word, dive into it and find some sort of Truth. :)

Sincerely,

Abby

Abby

I go through weird phases where I write every day and then don't write for months. If you've stuck around for a while, you know that and accept me for who I am. So for that, I thank you! I've never thought my writing would help anyone...I just like to do it for the pure fact that I enjoy it. But almost every time after I write, someone messages me telling me it was just what they needed to hear. So I continue to click the Publish button--nervous every single time that it won't translate well, or someone will think I'm nothing more than a black sheep trying to find a purpose in the world.

I was thinking the other day about my writing...and you know those posts or quizzes or whatever they may be where you get to tell 20 random things about yourself? I'm a sucker for those! I love writing them. Like - my favorite color is purple. My hair is naturally curly. I consume more lemonade than any human ever should and at a very dangerous rate. Possibly even more than coffee. I love all foods except bananas. I am head over heels in love with Jonathan...etc. And all of these are good things - in fact, all of these are wonderful things. It's so fun to learn about others.  
But as I was thinking about those types of posts that I love to write, I thought to myself, "Do the people who read this blog really know me? What I believe? What I don't?" ... The truth is, sometimes I don't even know myself like I think I do. Keep reading to try to understand me a little bit deeper. I sense that this will be ALL over the place. So if it's too much for you...just click the 'X' in the top right corner or the little red dot in the top left corner (Windows and Mac friendly, you see) and I'll catch ya next time. :) 

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Hi. I'm Abby. Little things make me happier than you could ever imagine - like holding my baby cousin and seeing her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, laughing until tears fall with my sister who, although 7 years younger, gets me like no other sister could, sitting in the kitchen on the creaky white stool and talking with my mom while she cooks supper for our family, shaking our heads and smiling about crazy furniture customers over a cup of coffee with my dad, laughing at our dog with my husband while 'Friends' plays in the background...

but there's more to my life than lots of laughter and good times. 

Sometimes I have really, really bad days.

I have days where the mere thought of life overwhelms me to a scary level and I get choked up about thinking of leaving the house. 

I have scary thoughts like, "What if something happens to me or Jonathan today and we left the house not even mad at each other, just in a hurry?"

I have moments where I dwell on the fact that this country is in a scary place and NEEDS revival in the most desperate way but I feel like my prayers and place in the world could never be enough.

I don't hate guns. I actually am for them. But sometimes I wonder if it's safe for anyone under the sun to have one because you never know who's going to go crazy and shoot a place up because he or she was having a rough day. So I understand both sides of that argument. 

In fact, when I go out anywhere, I make sure I've noted all of the nearest exits in case of an emergency. It's a level of paranoia and anxiety I don't discuss because it makes me sound nothing less than crazy...but it's true. 
The concerts Jonathan and I go to? I love them more than I can explain...but I check the exits and make sure I can get out in case of an emergency every single time. 

I have friends but feel totally misunderstood in the world. In fact, the VERY fact that I have friends and a husband who all love me blows my mind because I am very different than any other person I know. 

It freaks me out that I'm old enough to be having children and have friends who have children. The thought of raising a human who is polite, has manners and gets somewhere in the world almost sends me into crazy-woman mode because the pressure of it all seems unbearable! 

If I've ever sold you furniture and didn't know you outside of the furniture store, you saw Performance Abby. From 9-5 it's ~*showtime*~ and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I am very quiet; in situations where I have an opinion I still prefer to keep to myself. Something about waiting on a stranger and selling them something is addicting and fun, but it's also nerve wracking and pressure-filled to someone who isn't in love with talking...even talking to the ones to whom she's closest. 

The wheels in my head NEVER. STOP. TURNING. Even in my quietest hours, I'm probably over-thinking something. It isn't something that I've ever even considered trying to change about myself. I'm just always wondering about things and people and what's going on and what would happen if this changed and...you get it. 

Politics exhaust me. My family is full of both conservatives and liberals. I have friends who are conservatives. I have friends who are liberals. And the truth of it all is PEOPLE WILL NEVER AGREE! NOTHING...I repeat - NOTHING - will ever change the fact that people view things differently. I lay low on politics because I'm not too prideful to admit it...someone could put me in my place real quick with their knowledge on the subject. I try to vote biblically and I try to keep up with what's going on as best as I can...but the outrage and disagreements this politics season has caused is pure insanity. Does ANYONE agree with me on this?! I will be VERY honest and vulnerable here. I truly do see both sides - I understand why the conservatives believe what they believe and the same for those who consider themselves liberal. I just wish we wouldn't be so quick to hate on those whose beliefs don't line up completely with ours. I can have a friend who believes 100% differently than I do. I truly can. I want people to know that. Because when you identify with one political party, people are quick to throw you into a generic pool of people and the truth is, people may agree on certain things, but that doesn't make us all robots who are the same in every aspect of life. Does any of that make sense?

I'm in a constant battle with my body and the way I look. And I'm always so freaked out by what people think of me. I read people very well, but I NEVER know what people are thinking about me and it sends me into a panic sometimes. It's something I've always struggled with. Wondering what others think about you will cut you to the core. And last but not least,

I second guess almost every decision I make. Like what nail color to get (first world probs)--Sometimes even down to what I'm going to drink with my meal ..and my family loves to poke fun at me for that one!

So, with the risk of this being a long post where I did nothing but ramble, there you have it. Those are a few things that came to my mind when I got to thinking - do these people actually know me? Those aren't all the things that make me different, just some of them. 

I am generally a happy person. My good days far outnumber my bad ones. But sometimes you just have a bad day and these are some of the quirks that make mine bad.

Those crinkles in the corners of Liza's eyes..the times when EG and I get going and we're annoying everyone around us but we're laughing so hard that we don't care...those conversations I have with my mom in the kitchen...those moments where my dad and I can only shake our heads and 'sigh-smile' over our job and the people we come in contact with...those nights where Luna is being crazy but hilarious and I catch Jonathan laughing from the pit of his gut with his nose crinkled -- those are the moments I live for. Those are the moments that make my life so overwhelmingly amazing. Those are the moments that get me through the bad times. Find your moments.

Sincerely,

Abby 

The Slump

*It's taking forever and a day to redirect these posts to my new domain, so I'm just copying and pasting. This was from November 2015*

Sometimes you write every day for months on end. Sometimes you go through The Slump and don't write for months...it somehow always balances out in the end.

So here I am...really soaking in my Day Off and laying under the covers in my stretchy pants that I really take advantage of on the day I don't work. The lighting is dim, it's cloudy outside. The hubs is playing video games in the other room. The puppy is sprawled out in his lap snoozing her life away. And life is good.

But it hasn't been. Yep. You read it right. I have a job, a house, food, a husband who loves me more than words, a cute little family complete with a fur baby, all the materialistic possessions I need..and it hasn't been good. Why? Alright...here it goes...

I was raised in a Christian home, where church on Sundays wasn't optional and even though I had homework on Wednesday night, I was picking up my Bible and going to Wednesday Night Youth. It was my life. I prayed before every meal, I knew all the current worship songs and I understood God worked everything together for my good because I loved Him. I was (am) a Christian and I knew (know) that if God is for me, who can be against me?

And then I went to college, and then I got engaged, and then I got married. And then Jonathan and I had our one year anniversary. And everything was a fairytale and perfect and amazing. And then The Slump hit.

For the past 2 months, my routine has been eating me alive. I would go to bed exhausted and wake up exhausted. I knew something was wrong but I didn't want to talk about it with anyone because either: 1) they wouldn't believe me, or 2) they would think less of me. I would look at Jonathan and snap at him with no warning. And then no apology after. Am I a terrible person yet? He didn't think so. And God DEFINITELY didn't think so. And THAT, friends reading, is the beauty of grace.

Jonathan finally sat me down (ok, I was actually lying in bed because I already told you...I've been so. exhausted. and so all I could do was lay down and cry) and he forced me to talk.

"What's been up with you?" he finally asked--and almost in a leery, please don't snap at me again voice.

"Jonathan...I don't know. Things are just different." And then he finally said it and I agreed almost instantly because THANK GOODNESS he said it for me and I didn't have to muster up the courage to say the words...I had been under attack. Yep. I know it for a fact. Have you ever just felt weighed down by the world and its standards? The things you love most become the most dreaded parts of your day. Don't even get me started on your weaknesses...because where you're weak, you become even weaker when you're being attacked like this. Satan had been attacking me from the inside out--literally, I felt myself shriveling to nothingness on the inside and it was showing on the outside-and it was wearing.me.down. Quite frankly, it was wearing everyone around me down too.
I think had it gone on much longer I would've gone somewhere darker and scarier than I've ever been in my life. Thankfully my husband saw warning signs and practically pulled the words straight out of my mouth with his bare hands. He made me talk it out so I could throw it far, far away and receive healing right then and there. I am so blessed to have a man that knows when I'm struggling spiritually. It hurts me to admit it because I'm prideful and have almost always had the Put Together Christian Act perfected to a T.

But I'm just writing to tell you...it's okay to hit The Slump. Have you been feeling it lately? I'm praying for you right now. I'm praying that someone, something, somewhere, somehow will allow you to talk it out...or you can even pray it out to God right now! If you've ever felt like there's NO ONE to talk to about this kind of stuff, there is. There's a God in heaven just waiting for you to confess your deepest secrets, your worst mistakes, your most hurtful trials. He WILL bring you up and he WILL bring you out. I decided to write it out because I felt like someone needed to see that we who claim to be Christians definitely don't have it all together. You probably know it anyways, but from someone who tries so hard to be perfect, and fails at it so much, I thought it'd be nice to hear it again. I struggle daily. But there is grace for that. There is always grace for that. Your Slump will not last forever.

I'm hoping this encouraged someone out there. Even those of us who claim to have faith--and it may just be the size of a mustard seed--we still go through really hard times. I have been set free. Not many knew I was struggling. But those of you who did, thank you for talking me through it. Thank you for praying for me. And Jonathan, thank you for still loving me and caring enough about me to ask what's wrong with me. I love you guys! There is always hope. There is always grace. Soak it in and take advantage of it.

Sincerely,

Abby