Me

I'm a person who looks for themes,

statements or stories by different individuals, saying the same thing.

I believe repeats in life are usually God's way of getting our attention

I believe this in the counseling room,

those themes and connections are things I grab onto

bring back around,

ask about.

I try to stay true to this in my own life,

and recently it's been about writing.

I've felt a calling back to this blog,

back to journaling,

back to sharing.

I have friends who are writing books,

learning lessons through old journals,

sharing their life on successful blogs

and I start to feel uncomfortable.

"I'm a writer, too" I say

I look back and wonder where I gave up the dream.

Was it in college when I switched majors,
knowing it would be hard to make it in the writing world?
Was is last year when I panicked in the middle of my graduate program,
wondering I was really cut out to be a counselor?
Or was it when I stopped writing, stopped asking God for inspiration,
stopped letting myself create.

I've returned to writing,
because it is where I feel the most me,
it keeps me centered,  honest,
and most importantly--
it is where I feel the closest to the One who created me.

Wife

There are days I wake up,

and can't believe this is my life.

With the apartment, 

the shared closet,

the bills, furniture still in boxes,

the fights over smelly trash bags,

the 9-5 (ish) workday waiting for me.

I'm married.

& 

I love him.

I love coming home to warm meals & Netflix,

I love the constant cuddles, kisses, and love he gives me.

I love Sunday mornings when we have real conversations about our future.

And there's all the cliches.

It's harder than I imagined,

I don't get to see him 24/7 like I want to.

Working and keeping up a home is...work.

And I get SO stressed out about how imperfect it is.

There are days all I can do is sit in the Starbuck's cafe,

just for a chance 10 second greeting in the middle of rush.

Sometimes he works from 5a-1p, and I work from 12p-8p.

This honestly sucks.

Other days, all I can do is open my Bible,

the devotion I've been reading,

surrender the stress

and hope I can learn something to benefit us both.

Last night I was finally able to vent the frustration I've been feeling at work,

and he gave me some really helpful ideas, because he's a lover.

And then I just started crying long repressed tears.

Why is this so hard?

Sometimes he has to remind me of really obvious things,

like "your job is just that-- a job"

and "if you want to quit and be a writer (my dream job) we would make it work"

and "maybe God has you doing something difficult for a reason"

and "maybe you can't answer the 'why' question because you aren't supposed to"

Here I grew up knowing I would be a wife one day,
 I imagined I would be the comforting one,
the one to support the other through hard things,
and here he is--doing all that and more for me,
at a time when I have nothing left to give back.

Again, I love him.

Happy 2 months and 1 day of marriage, sweet Christopher.

Thanks for dealing with my crazy, stressed, all-over-the-place self
every single day.

Be Kind

Part of working in the mental health field

is being aware of what's going on inside of you.

I try to practice this everyday,

but sometimes my perfectionism takes over,

and I focus on all the things I'm doing wrong.

The anxiety I feel every day when I leave for the office

or the fear that I won't be able to do enough

or my own awkwardness.

When I do this I undermine the person God created me to be.

I forget authenticity, and embrace the old copycat me.

I try to be like the other counselors.

Funny, professional, seasoned.

I forget to be patient with myself.

New things take time.

Grad school taught me a very important lesson,

I'm going to make mistakes.

I teach my clients to be mindful,

not to judge themselves too harshly.

But I forget to follow my own advice.

I forget to look around.

I recently went through a HUGE transition.

I married, moved, and started a new job in less than 3 weeks.

This is my crash course in learning to be a wife, a professional, a home-maker...

I forget to notice that I'm not alone,
I have a caring husband,
helpful co-workers,
and a list of friends that love me.

Do you ever forget to be kind to yourself?

True

I'm an addictions counselor--

I guarantee that doesn't mean what you think it does.

There are so many preconceived notions--

ones I have been guilty of myself.

"It's a choice"

"They can stop whenever they feel like it"

"They're selfish"

"They don't care about the family"

If there is one thing I could say that is true 

of every addicted person I've encountered,

It would be this:

They are in pain.

She was bullied as a 3rd grader.

He watched his mother drink herself to death.

She was talked into selling her body by someone she trusted.

He was never the same after his divorce.

She lost her child shortly after it was born.

She faced domestic violence and near death experiences for the past 8 years.

She is dying. Years of alcohol has damaged her body beyond recognition.

Sometimes the stories are familiar,

Other times they are nearly unbelievable,

but they are always filled with searing pain.

Another true statement,

I feel very unprepared to work with addictions.

I'm learning new curriculum, a new way of thinking, even a new vocabulary.

I come home and the tears are near,

the client I had so much hope for is back to killing herself

slowly, chemically

Caring is dangerous,

and I'm selfish by nature.

But each day I wake up, 

put on the most "adult" professional dress and heels I have,

and keep trusting.

God made me a helper.

He gave me a mixture of strength and compassion.

Sometimes I even catch a grace-filled glimpse of what He is doing.

I see the connection when 

something I learned in my internship can benefit a new client.

 a class I took in undergrad helps me write a new curriculum for families.

I recognize someone I love in the story of a new group member.

He's given all of us a purpose, a hope, and a future.

And I can't give up now.

Acceptance

I've posted before about the trial I faced in graduate school

But I can look back with rosy glasses 

and feel like it was worth it.

I'm thankful for those hardest times. 

They gave me a professional title, a new job

in a new place, with my new husband.

But I have some rebuilding to do.

Sometimes I can't sleep at night,

Sometimes I'm afraid this isn't the life I was meant for.

The salaried job with the consistent hours feels...

so strict.

I don't love it. I'm not completed by this laboring.

And I lie.

I tell myself I've made it.

This is it.

The dream.

Really, I'm a spiritual shell of what I used to be.

I've forgotten that verse in John I used to cling to.

I've forgotten that he's leading me to...something good.

I forget his promise of healing and focus on all the wounds.

I wish for something else. 

Isn't work supposed to be...fun?

And this work has changed me.

I still miss that blithe cupcake making girl from 2012

before I really began to understand Trauma.

I shake my head as 

I learn Trauma has followed me 

and holds hands with Addiction.

I know these are Satan's ways of attacking people,

I know God has called me to be His helper in their lives.

Still, I emotionally back away.

Because when there's a relapse

or a sudden suicide

-they're all so sudden-

I only feel loss.

What I'm getting at is the need for acceptance.

The need for surrender.

He's asked my heart to break

while I offer hope.

He's made me strong enough to do it.

And he's given me a flawless example.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. when you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord you God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior"
Isaiah 43