It's been too long. Way too long.
So long that I've gotten a little rusty. I'm sure you've noticed that I've let this part of my world sit in the corner and collect dust for a little while. But for good reason. Life has a way of pulling us in many different directions and often we find ourselves in the middle of it all not really moving anywhere.
That was me about six months ago.
Jeff had just taken on a new position at work that shook our world up a bit. He would be traveling. A lot. I was already knee deep in the holiday photography season and with this new change I felt like I was drowning immediately. I had no idea how I was going to keep everything afloat. And the reality was, I couldn't. The next few months were a blur of long days, sleepless nights, and unwelcomed anxiety. Every once in a while I'd open up my blog and glance at these beautiful moments I never wanted to forget while wishing, ironically, that I could really just forget everything.
January came and the good news was I made it through the busy season. The bad news was my anxiety was at an all time high. I thought that once things had slowed down I'd be able to breathe. But the chance to breathe never really came. I recall being at a baptism one Saturday morning when everything just fell apart...I fell apart. Jeff was gone again. I was there alone trying to manage my children who weren't exactly angels that day. After what felt like a three-ring circus stuck inside a washing machine, I ended up packing them up early and heading out the door when a friend stopped to offer help with the children. I began to sob. I was so grateful for her sincere offer but at that moment, I realized it was me that needed the most help.
I was just too afraid to ask.
I was afraid of feeling embarassed. Or having people know that I couldn't hack it. Or wondering what others would think of me. I didn't want to be the "one" who had a nervous breakdown. In my mind, those kinds of things you could never socially recover from. So I hid from it all until that day. And that's when I made a crucial decision. I didn't care. I didn't care who knew I was struggling. I didn't care what others might say or think. I made the choice to simply not care. Probably one of the best choices I've ever made.
Once I reached that pivotal point, I had to decide what was going to work for me. The next week I started meeting with a counselor. Difficult to do? Uh, extremely. I was hesitant to go but so glad I did. She is wonderful. I left with a couple homework assignments. One of them being to pick up a book on anxiety and read more about it. I ended up at Barnes & Noble and grabbed about six books to thumb through. A little much I admit but I was feeling that if one was good, six would be even better right? Once again, feeling a little embarassed, I repeated to myself "It's okay. It's all right. I don't care." Sheepishly, I set my books down at the check out, hoping I could make this as quick as possible. Wouldn't you know it, the 17-year-old at the counter decides he's going to be overly helpful by offering me some of his seasoned wisdom while ringing me up.
"Exercise helps with both depression and anxiety, you know." He stated matter of factly.
Really? Why didn't I think of that? I thought sarcastically. I could have slapped the insensitivity right out of his pubescent face.
"Yes. You're right." I quickly mumbled as I picked up my books and skirted out the door. I had just failed my first test at not caring. I got into my car and sat there quietly for a few minutes. I didn't need six books. I probably didn't really even need one. I needed the Lord. He knew that. I knew that. He was just waiting on me like He always has been. Come to think of it, Mr. 17-year-old-know-it-all was right too.
So I tucked away my pride, got down on my knees, dusted off my running shoes and went to work.
It's been three months since that time and you know what? I feel good. Really. Really. Good. Jeff is still traveling. Life is still crazy. My children have not become angels. (Sometimes though). But I feel like I have a new set of tools for understanding myself, my weaknesses, my strengths, and my ability to cope with life's challenges. I feel strong. I feel the Lord teaching me and showing me how much he loves me and the family he has blessed me with. He wants me to succeed. He wants all of us to succeed.
I share this openly here with a lot of mixed feelings. Being an open book is not something that is easy for me. But I've felt very strongly that I need to be a voice. I need to be a voice for those that struggle like I do. Or with something different entirely. I'm convinced that we as women each face something that challenges our self-worth or ability to see ourselves as God does. Might be depression, body image or eating disorders, infertility, loneliness, marital or family struggles, or just plain feeling like we don't measure up to unrealistic expectations. We all feel something. It's okay to be you and it's okay to need help. I'm gonna say that again.
It's okay to be you and it's okay to need help!
Don't be afraid to ask. Really. Please. Don't be afraid of making changes that will only put you on a better path. And if you are like me, don't be afraid of what 17, 30, or even 80-year-olds think. It doesn't matter.
Thank you to those who have reached out to me lately. I love you. Know that if you are coming here, I consider you a friend. And by me being a little bit more of me I hope you feel it's okay to be you.
p.s. I haven't been in complete hiding. Instagram has filled this void while I've been gone. If you want to catch up, you can find me here
