Untethered…

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I write truth. When I started this blog, I thought I could be bubbly, happy and inspirational for you no matter what, but I can’t. Just the way that I could never hang with the bubble-headed girls, constantly fixated on their manicures, spreading rumors about others outside their circle, and eating so little I thought I’d faint from merely watching them in college. I like truth. In people. In me. In those I love. I expect truth, too.

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Just like the first pic, life has been rather bleak for me, and I didn’t want to write from a dark place, but I finally decided that if I could write truth, maybe you’d be okay with it; maybe it would resonate with you even more. Because if I can’t find beauty on some days or even for a whole month, I know that one day I will. I know life’s going to get better. Slowly maybe, but life is a gift and I see that now. I tell the twenty-somethings to not kill themselves; to stay here and wait, even though the waiting for better is dark, bleak, dull and infinitely sad.

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In the middle of my anxiety ridden days and endless sleepless nights, I didn’t see anything but bad, except this time, I remembered my daughter is expecting a baby in a month. I went through depression in one of my three pregnancies, with postpartum depression descending upon me for two of those pregnancies, but I am so glad I stayed here and walked the paths at dusk. I have three very unique and interesting kids, and I like them all, different as they are. And I’m married to a man committed to walking with me in truth. We’re not fake with one another. Not anymore.

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What caused this fall, this tumble into semi-darkness where the familiar became unknown and my steps were haunted by the memory of another? I cannot tell. That’s someone else’s story and I play but a part, but I can say this. Holding someone up so high in your eyes and your esteem will only result in a crash. An earthquake violent enough to shake your world, wide awake.

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I’ve been feeling untethered. Shaken. Scared and tired. My foundation has been shaken, but not my faith. See, I follow a guy named Jesus, and based on what he says, he’s got my back no matter what. He’s supposed to be my rock, but I didn’t quite do that. I have an annoying habit of making other people my Jesus. Unintentional, yes, but a bad idea, nonetheless. And God has a way of pulling down anything that could stand in the way of Jesus being my foundation. So discovering that the people I idolize are capable of disappointing me or not thinking of me first, causes me to walk with my eyes downcast, not seeing much except a few steps in front of me. And then I hand myself over to God. I surrender. He becomes more of my rock, though I think this is a lifelong task.

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I’m not going to lie and say my days are rocked with sunshine and I feel like singing from a hilltop. No. I feel the antidepressant working but it doesn’t touch that core of hurt. It never does. So what’s beautiful when your world is tinged with grey? Knowing the family will be together for Thanksgiving. Hearing music that brings me to my knees in anguish and relief. Starbucks, oh come on, you knew that was coming! My husband and kids bring me offerings of Starbucks tea and I see light. Happiness? She’s a ways off, but this life is rich and worth living. I’m inspired by those who give. Stories of people being kind lifts my eyes up for a while. I try in my own way to give.

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Tipping at the car wash or coffee shop every single time. Stuffing money into the hands of the street people who call the outside their home. Giving money to the disabled in Romania, because they are treated worse than dogs.

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I hope you’ll stay with me while I gain ground, sort through this latest earthquake in my life, and begin my somewhat faltering steps back to beauty and sunshine, and happiness at waking up to another day. Stay here. Even though my days are subsumed with winter and long nights and cold. Even when sweaters and blankets piled on do not quell the cold inside me. We’ll walk through this life together and claim beauty and laughter and happiness…again. Please stay…

Long roads with wonderful views…

 

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While sorting through the pictures to choose the ones I want to place here on this page, that take you through my day, I pass through photos going back more than five years. And in those pictures of specifically my family, I see an array of emotions. Sure, happiness on a birthday where we all deliberately sing terribly out of tune (and one daughter insists on regaling us with The Star Spangled Banner at the same time) is evident. That’s fun. Special and happy. We’re all laughing and grinning!

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And I see the vacations. Happy times, right? Except I see the depths of depression welling up into one daughter’s eyes. She cannot hide what lies beneath. She tried to take her life. Deep stuff here, I know. But I see it every time I come here to write to you about happiness. Be happy wherever you are, except. Except, there are simply times where we cannot feel it. So what do you do? I chose to ride it out. It hurt. I hurt, and others around me were affected, which didn’t make me feel any better.

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But I made it out. I’m happy to be here doing this thing called life.

In those particular vacation pictures of me and my always smiling daughter, I see her smile never reaches her eyes. And I remember her long road to happiness. That was so very worth it. She left the kind of life that brought her down and climbed out of the darkness and now lives a life full of laughter, with much kindness and concern for others. Because she knows what it feels like when we just can’t cross the bridge to happiness. But she and I know it’s a climb worth making.

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So what can we do if we’re not at happy? When it’s nowhere in sight? Talk to somebody. Reach out. Counselors can be good, but sometimes it’s a kind friend. Find the merciful, kind people in life and keep them. They are worth so much more than a roomful of raucous laughter. My daughter just happened to call a college friend to say good-bye. A forever goodbye. Outside my house, while I slept.

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That far-off friend called the police, not knowing quite where she lived, and that saved her life. I had no idea how sad my laughing, uber friendly, voted funniest of her class, daughter was. But I found out.

She lived. Thank God, she is alive. And if you are at that point of thinking nobody cares and that you’re worthless. Stop. You are worth more than jewels. Just being alive matters. Not how much money you make. Not the clothes you wear. You. Are here. For a reason. You might not know that reason yet, but hang on. Because the day is coming when you will find out why. Why you went through pain. The suffering. The loneliness. Worthlessness. And you know what?

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Don’t buy into it. Don’t listen to the negative voices in your head, or the people around you that bring you down. Because you are worth so much. You matter. You’re smart enough, good enough and nothing you have ever done takes that away. Hold your head up. Look for the beauty. If you can’t see the beauty looking back at you when you look in the mirror, that’s okay for now. But please, take my word for it, you are beautiful, wonderful and amazing. And someday, after you survive this time, you will look back and see why. Why it happened. That dark and lonely road you travelled had a purpose.

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See those stairs? I pass them on my favorite walk, and it means I’m almost finished walking or running. Our life is a bunch of stairs we get to climb to go somewhere pretty amazing. We can stop here and there to catch our breath and admire the view higher up. That’s life as you age. Trust me. And then you start up the stairs again. I’m here to tell you the view gets better the higher we climb, so do not give up. Talk to someone who is caring and kind, if you feel alone. I have been there. Alone. Sad. No one understanding why I couldn’t pull myself together. But…I let time, medicine (we might need that at times), counseling, and kind friends help me. You can do this. You’re not alone.

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Happiness can be found along the way. In so many places. For me, it’s beautiful flowers, bought on the cheap. Iced tea in the afternoon. Pasta for dinner! A good book and my kind of music. Candles. My cozy spots in this house, where I retreat to when I feel like I need that. Find yours.

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I love long walks. Alone. It gives me time to untangle problems and I dream up my best writing ideas for that book. You? You might prefer matcha or an espresso in the early afternoon. Maybe a jazzercise class? Hey, my 77 year old dad goes to jazzercise three times a week. I love that about him! Go daddy! Find your thing. And stop to enjoy the view along this trip called life. We only get one shot at this. Let’s make it a happy one. Here’s to you and how amazingly beautiful and wonderful you are…

 

Until next time…