Sick of Being Tired, Tired of Being Sick. My Story.

We're gonna get real and even realer in this post in hopes that things can possibly get better for your lifestyle and diet. So get ready to know more than you want to about where I've been and where I am now! This'll be fun. :P Also, I'm going to get into specific brands that I love right now, but I'm talking about them simply for the sake of sharing good information with my people. I'm not getting paid for anything (unfortunately). So let's begin!

It has only been about two years since I realized how crappy I've felt the majority of my life. I assumed everyone was constantly tired, constantly feeling stomach cramps and - we're gonna go there - gassy. There was even a nickname my sister would call me when we were younger in reference to that last detail. RUDE. :P We're gonna go even further - #2 bathroom times were an ordeal for as long as I could remember. It was rarely completely passed in just one session, and when I was really young I would ask my mom to come sit in the bathroom with me because I thought she could help me somehow. She would sit with me and try to tell me how to push. And I'm pretty sure I only #2'd every few days, definitely not every day and NEVER multiple times a day. Whether because it was the 90s or because I didn't overtly complain about any of it, my diet was never adjusted to address these issues.

It always seemed like I maxed out on energy before my peers, and that it took serious effort to do what looked effortless for others. In middle school, we found out I was anemic after my mom realized I just napped and laid on the couch all day after school for weeks, and a round of iron supplements helped for a time. My dad would poke fun at me for how slow I seemed to move about my life (getting ready for the day, walking around the house, etc.), and I never thought anything of it.

This all began really rearing its head post-puberty in my teen years. One particular teacher in high school would comment on how I always seem tired in his post-lunch afternoon class and started poking fun of my constant yawning. I just attributed it to only getting about five hours of sleep a night.

That's another thing - sleeping has been a struggle for as long as I can remember, despite all this low energy. My mind would buzz and I would always be the last one awake in any given room/house/city/state/time zone. This didn't help matters much.

So all of these factors played out like a low hum in the background of life, never serious enough for me to think anything needed major adjusting. I ate whatever I wanted (always with a poochy bloated Buddha belly hard to the touch), slept through countless alarms from sheer exhaustion, and always felt slightly miserable in this body of mine. I drank coffee all day to feel "normal" and that always ended with a fun energy crash. But I always seemed to pull myself back on the horse and slum through another day. As you could imagine, this all profoundly affected my emotions. I have always been a feeler and a deep thinker, and that combo lends itself to feeling more sadness than others. But this was different. I felt depressed in the sense that happiness was one the other side of this tired bubble I couldn't escape. I wasn't sad, I was just tired. So many of my prayers were that of being tired, feeling spent, ready to be taken from this world if this is really as good as it gets. What should have felt like walking through air felt like swimming through water - doable, but more taxing. That's what living life felt like. Just taxing. But I did my best to keep moving.

Fast forward to me reeling in pain as a 24-year-old in my bed one night, unable to move or touch my stomach without sharp stabs in my abdomen. My insides felt raw. It seemed like one day I was my slightly bloaty, slightly crappy-feeling self, and the next day I was in debilitating pain for no apparent reason and the belly size of a balloon. That low hum was ramped up to a blaring roar I couldn't ignore or reason away. I definitely knew THIS wasn't normal. The days followed with urgent bathroom emergencies I had never experienced before and more seemingly-random nausea than I would wish for anyone. My slight misery became profound agony.

I went to a doctor and described everything, and he was about as helpful as a bump on a log. He suggested fiber for the emergency bathroom visits. Though fiber helped with that aspect, it only exacerbated the balloon belly and pain I would get, and that would make for even worse bathroom visits. I couldn't understand it. What. The. Heck. Is. Wrong.

Around this time, my dad was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) and was told it was rare to be triggered as a middle-aged adult; usually those with IBS start having symptoms in their early or mid twenties. He was dianosed after describing similar raw-insides, fetal-position-on-the-floor episodes like I was having. I was intrigued and researched it. Aaaaaand bingo. Step one of understanding had arrived.

Fast forward two years, and I am a flat-stomached, moderate-energied, normal-bathrooming, one-cup-of-coffee-a-day-if-at-all, happy woman. I have learned how to respect my body's limits and give myself what I need in the form that I need it. I am addicted to nothing, I am dependent on nothing, and I am never craving an afternoon nap. I have found my healthy and my happy. And I want to share that journey and those discoveries with you.

Here are a few important things I have learned in figuring myself out.

1) No two IBSes are alike - don't learn about IBS, learn about you.

My IBS triggers? I can't eat potatoes (unless it's very minimal). They taste wonderful but apparently ruin everything. Guess what I can eat just fine? Gluten and dairy. I am now learning that beans of all forms do not go down without a fight inside me. Fiber is another thing that really messes with me - I can't eat a ton of vegetables just because the world told me it's good for me. I can't Google "IBS-friendly diet" to find what will work for me. I have gotten to know my particular body, my particular IBS triggers, and I have accepted them even in the face of the world telling me I am avoiding perfectly fine foods. Unfortunately they don't leave me feeling perfectly fine. It's trial and error, but follow the foods/meals that leave you feeling good an hour after eating them. And start keeping track of what nutrition you get from them and what they're missing.

What works for me? My proteins are primarily eggs, chicken, fish, quinoa, raw nuts, and avocado. I love baby spinach and making green smoothies with unsweetened almond milk and frozen strawberries. I don't go crazy with veggies but make sure to have at least one a day. I eat breads in moderation and unsalted Saltines as a safe crunchy snack. I lean toward Greek yogurt in the dairy world, but I can tolerate milk and cheese in moderation. I have the equivalent of one dessert's worth of sugar a day - whether that's in a sugary drink or a sugary food. This includes fruit, but obviously I'd have to eat a ton of it to max out on sugar for the day, ha. I drink alcohol a few times a week these days but in moderation - nothing ruins me like too much alcohol sugar in my system. These are the things that seem to work for me for now, and I found them by treading lightly and being both aware and honest with myself about how I was feeling afterward. Also not being afraid to give away/throw away food I would try and simply could not consume. I learned to be gentle and fair with myself.

2) Duh, but seriously - WATER YOURSELF.

Everything I listed up there is pointless to be careful about if you're hydrating with juice, coffee, and soda all day. Water is life. Water is the standard. Thirsty? Drink water. Bored? Drink water. Drinking tea is another way to get plenty of water in your system.

Now, there is such a thing as drinking too much water. Some of what you've been told about daily water consumption has been fed to you by bottled water companies so that their sales go up. But just look how animals approach water (and notice how their urine is yellow even when water is all they are drinking). They casually drink throughout the day without a second thought. They don't gorge themselves all day, and yet they remain healthy. So don't go crazy.

This water bottle shown above is a Boroux glass bottle that I personally own and love. The borosilicate glass is non-porous so the walls of the bottle do not absorb any flavors, which makes everything taste unbelievably fresh out of it. I drink water out of it all day and it is a clean, crisp flavor every time. It makes me want to drink water, which used to sound pretty darn dull to me. Find whatever way works for you to water yourself throughout the day to avoid lethargy, headaches, and poor digestion.

3) Know your needs and limits - supplement your diet wherever necessary.

Even when I am eating well and drinking well, I am naturally prone to an iron deficiency (a type of anemia). I also am aware that I avoid the sun to protect my ridiculously fair/sensitive skin, so I am deficient in energizing Vitamin D. I have taken iron supplements in the past, but they had to be taken at certain times of the day with a certain amount of food/water or else it would be a nausea fest. I just couldn't keep up and live a life that didn't revolve around it. And if you aren't cursed blessed with delicate skin, I can't describe to you what a cloudless sunny day feels like on my neck and arms. It genuinely hurts and feels raw after awhile, even with friggin SPF 100 on (no joke, that's a staple in my purse in the warm seasons). So I stay as covered up as possible and live indoors or in the shadows, missing out on Vitamin D to avoid the discomfort.

These are both limits I have finally started paying attention to and honoring in myself - I can't do the sun and I can't consistently take schedule-rigid iron enough for it to be affective. Another limit - I can't revolve my diet around getting enough iron and Vitamin D because I already have to be careful in that world with IBS, and I want to protect that. So I researched my little heart out on other solutions, and discovered the world of whole food supplements.

The particular brand I have gravitated to is MegaFood. Their whole food supplements can be taken at any point in the day and on an empty stomach because it is food - your body already knows how to digest it and store it. The two MegaFood supplements I am currently taking are "Blood Builder" shown above (a combo of iron, folate, Vitamin C to help digest the iron, and Vitamin B-12 to keep the iron level in the blood at a healthy range) and their Vitamin D3 supplement (1000 IU, the daily amount suggested). Words can't describe the change I've felt since casually taking these every day. You know how when you've been out in the cold and your hands are numb, then you get in your car and blast the heaters, then put your hands up to the vents to warm up, and they don't even feel warm yet, they just feel like they're coming alive again as your circulation flows because they were that cold? That's how these make me feel. I'm not overly energized, I just feel like life is coming back into my veins. And that's a game-changer. I keep both bottles in my purse (with the cotton stoppers left in to avoid breaking pills AND being too jingly) and take one of each a day with a drink from my water bottle whenever it is convenient.

 

4) Find easy ways to get daily nutrition if cooking isn't practical right now.

Me? I'm a grad student with a part-time clinical internship. And I work 32 hours a week on my feet in a busy coffee shop starting at 6:15am most days (with at least four hours into that shift before a meal is possible). I have had to learn over the last six months that it isn't practical to expect from myself what I was capable of before this current crammed schedule. I have to give myself grace, but not at the expense of my health. I just have to find easier ways to get what I need and avoid what I can't eat. Funnily enough, fast food doesn't seem to phase me. I could eat Wendy's everyday and feel perfectly fine as far as IBS symptoms are concerned, but that obviously just isn't good for anyone!

I came across meal replacement shake powder when looking up healthy cheesecake recipes on Pinterest (I'm eating that stuff the rest of my life even if it kills me, y'all). One intriguing recipe called for vanilla protein powder. I know from the past that whey protein powder tore my insides apart, so I casually started researching non-whey protein powder options out there, and I came across Raw Meal. It is a raw vegan meal you can mix into pretty much anything and it gives you a ton of the daily nutrients you need. Granted, it has a gritty texture and tastes rather "green", but it's worth it. I picked up the vanilla flavored powder along with a Blender Bottle that is specifically designed to blend up shakes with that wire ball whirling around inside while you shake the bottle. I've been using 16oz of unsweetened almond milk and some honey-flavored greek yogurt mixed with two scoops of this stuff for breakfast in the mornings I work. I'm out the door by 6am and on my feet for four or more hours before food. Before making these shakes I used to get lethargic, irritable, and even jittery by the time I could go on a break. Now that I am consuming a breakfast that keeps me full and energized for hours, I feel fantastic throughout my shift and am not counting down the minutes until I can finally eat something. This stuff is everything I need it to be, and that nifty little bottle makes drinking it as easy as ever.

5) Drugs are a last resort - eat and drink your medicine.

If you have complained about any minor ailment around me in the last few years, I have probably recommended a tea for you to try. There is a reason they have been used for healing for thousands of years. With all of my sensitivities listed above, the last thing I am willing to do is pop a pill of chemicals if I don't have to. There are a few teas I drink regularly as "routine maintenance" - earl grey for heart health, nettle tea to relieve aches and pains, chamomile tea to relax muscles - and there are a few teas I run to when all else fails and I find myself sick. The best tea company I've found is Traditional Medicinals, and they are a trusted company that does not put harmful fillers in their teas like other companies have been known to do (looking at you, Teavana). I also turn to spinach and kale when I'm sick; green smoothies and juices cure all.

Bottom line, drugs are not your friend. They're your neighbor who has that extra tall ladder that you don't need except for that one project every few years. But that's it. Eat and drink what you need, they're not only your friends but your family.

This all took time, honesty, patience, and grace with myself to figure out and find solutions to. What you don't see here are all the recipes and foods that I tried but couldn't stomach, or the bouts of abdomenal pain when an undiscovered IBS trigger introduced itself. This wasn't an easy or even graceful journey - and it is hardly over. The chronic nature of IBS and anemia make this a lifelong endeavor to keep up my energy and my digestive health. But man, it has been so worth it. I feel like I finally have the capacity to be my full self, and that is no exaggeration. This experience, along with research to back it up, has even informed how I approach therapy with clients. What are they eating? How are they sleeping? How are they taking care of themselves? What are they ignoring that they should honor and pay attention to within themselves?

I'll ask you the same questions, and encourage you to take a close look at your diet the moment you feel like something is "off" in your life - your mood, your energy level, your emotions, your thoughts, even your relational patterns. Look at your physical fuel before anything else. And honor your particular needs. You're worth the time and energy it takes to feel your best.

The Danger of Fairytales

Something about being up late at night draws me to watch documentaries on Netflix. They dance with my buzzing brain so addictively.

I watched one last week that, quite honestly, wasn't made that well. The narrator was some woman who could've been Siri's awkward cousin trying to sound cool, the camera work wasn't that sharp, and it all ended a little flat. But the takeaway message has stuck with me.

It was about debunking the 9/11 conspiracy theories by setting up experiments that challenge what the theorists considered impossible about how the twin towers and Pentagon were reported to have been attacked and thereafter collapsed. "There's no way steel can melt at the temperature which jet fuel burns." "The hole in the Pentagon doesn't look like a plane went through it, it looks like explosives from within were detonated." The experiments were set up, and low and behold, steel does melt from burning jet fuel over time, and a projectile object does leave the type of destruction found at the Pentagon.

When the theorists were presented with the information gathered from these experiments, they scoffed, pointed out here and there where it wasn't a perfect representation of the 9/11 circumstances, and even went so far as to challenge the intentions behind the interviewers. None of them looked at the information and thought, "Yeah, I could be incorrect. I don't think I am yet, but this information changes how I view the events." Nope. Just shifting focus and attacking something else that can be attacked.

The takeaway message that stuck with me: A conspiracy theorist expert (those apparently exist) explained how conspiracy theories are all about connecting real and fictitious dots to create an elaborate, good-vs.-evil kind of story that is usually much more interesting than reality. That is always the common theme to any conspiracy theory - it is fantastical, it is elegant, it involves an evil attacking a good. It is innocence becoming 100% wronged by the non-innocent. The expert described how this kind of story is usually more appealing and more interesting than reality. He said something along the lines of, "One of the things we have to remember about 9/11 was the amount of trauma it caused - real psychological damage. And that America was so hated abroad that people would want to do this to it...in a way, a kind of less-traumatic explanation was that there were shadowy forces at work in the government that brought this about. That explanation was slightly more tolerable than simply that the world is an incredibly difficult place, or that there were people in America who were deeply troubled, and always had been, and always were likely to cause mayhem if given the chance."

Even just considering conspiracy theories, that's an intriguing idea - that it's easier to make up fantastical stories about an oppressive evil than it is to believe that we all just simply hurt each other. But transcending conspiracy theories, this human nature of creating elegant narratives is incredibly interesting to look at up close.

Not-so-ironically, I listened to a sermon today on forgiveness at church. Not just forgiveness, but on bitterness and resentment. How we can hold onto those memories and stories of being wronged and be fueled by a form of indignation toward them. We feed off of our innocence in those moments and our anger toward the ones who wronged us. We keep them around for that sort of morbid comfort. And we weren't created to live life or be in relationships this way.

In my own life, when I think back on times when I have been deeply hurt and wronged, it is easy for me to avoid grace and forgiveness if the story in my head is that I was intentionally used and disposed of, or that I was purposefully made to feel like dirt, or simply that I was not considered or cared about at all by the person who did the wronging and hurting. I can stay indignant and brooding because I was an innocent wronged by an evil.

But if I think back on times when I have been deeply hurt and wronged, with the story that the person who hurt me simply "doesn't get it", or have the capacity to treat me the way I need, and may care about me a ton but we just can't reach each other past our mutual brokenness, and Heaven forbid they may even be acting out of their own hurt that I may have caused them...yeah, I can't escape the call of grace and forgiveness there. I can't villainize them, I can't victimize myself. We are both human. We are both broken. We both need patience and grace and forgiveness when we blow it. And we are always going to blow it.

Take care to consider the stories in your heart. If there is no room or need for grace in them, you may be creating a narrative that isn't reality. We were designed to create, it flows from us naturally - but don't create fairytales about your wounds. The victim of hurt always becomes the doer of hurt, and so you shall be.

Resist creating conspiracy theories around your life and your hurts. They may be elegant, romantic in a way, and way more interesting than reality. But they don't allow for the grace we need to survive.

Today, I will consider others to be doing the best they can, wrestling with their own twisted brokenness that I don't fully understand. I will consider them worthy of my grace and forgiveness when they wrong me. I won't make up stories or fill in the gaps with assumptions.

I will allow for the grace and beauty of His reality to help me love my best.

You Are Welcome Here.

I'm closing in on a month of seeing clients as a graduate intern.

It feels both surreal and hyper-real. Like I'm finally starting a journey I've spent the last eight years preparing for.

I feel incredibly alive.

I'll tell you a little about my first session with my first client, and how it changed everything. As a reminder about confidentiality, I can openly talk about clients as long as I do not reveal any identifiable information. I can tell you about a couple I'm seeing that are struggling with communication. I can't tell you I'm seeing a Wells Fargo bank teller and her Vanderbilt doctor husband who live in Green Hills with their three kids whose names rhyme with Flohn and Flarah. If that couple exists, rest assured I'm not seeing them, hah.

My first client was a girl in her mid-twenties. She wrote in her paperwork under her goals for therapy, "Feel less anxiety. Feel more joy. Have healthier relationships." In session, she talked about an ended relationship that has given her so much heartache, and a childhood filled with instability that has her now grasping for anything solid and stable, and how she gives her everything to relationships that don't seem to offer the same in return.

Within fifteen minutes of meeting with her, with my first client ever and hearing her story, I knew in my gut that I'd had it all wrong in my head up until now.

Let's backtrack.

One of the first things hammered into your head in an MFT program is that you are useless as a therapist without empathy. It's the number one determining factor for a client remaining in therapy, and their overall satisfaction rate. Your human connection with your client has to be the solid foundation on which your academic training is built to help that person.

"Alright. It's not just me throwing knowledge at clients. It's not just me giving wise advice. It's not just telling them what to do. I need to hear them and understand them and walk with them. Got it."

We were taught how to effectively show that empathy. Empathic listening skills. Empathic verbal and non-verbal responses.

"This is how I open myself up to hear my clients, and how I communicate that I am truly with them. I love how soft it feels, I am looking forward to being this kind of presence for someone. Got it."

We were taught several different theories on the role a therapist can play in a client's life. They can be active and directive, prescribing homework assignments and pushing the client in order to have the client push back and learn how to stand on their own two feet. They can play a more passive role, gently guiding a client with pointed questions to get the client thinking, taking as long as it needs to take. We were taught how humans function in relationships on a systemic level, how everyone has a function that serves a purpose, how not to ask ourselves the question "Why does behavior X happen?" but instead "What function does behavior X serve?"

"Okay. This is how humans generally behave in relational systems. This is how I should frame those behaviors in my head. There are several ways I can be a therapeutic presence with that information for this person, all with the foundation of an empathic relationship. Love it. Got it."

Fast forward with my first session with my first client.

I'm listening to this girl talk about her life, and her heart, and her darkness. I'm hearing her ask for help.

And I knew I couldn't save her.

Despite all my training and my preparing, human brokenness is beyond human repair.

I can't take away shame.

I can't heal broken hearts.

I can't bring relief to anxiety.

I can't redeem brokenness.

I can't. I never could. I never will.

Within half a second of realizing my training alone could do nothing for this girl, my empathic presence alone can only do so much for this girl, I mentally reached out my hand to the One who can do all things. I prayed a line from an old worship song that I didn't even know was still in my memory:

Holy Spirit, You are welcome here. Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere.

I finally understood and felt the weight of what it means for Him to work through me. For me to be an open and willing vessel. For Him to have been preparing me my entire life to be worked through in this way by Him.

He is not only a proud Father sending me off to do good work. He is not only a Brother and a Friend who is with me always, who I can sit with and pray to about my work. He is the movement I am making. He is the very work I have been preparing for.

It's always been Him. My work has always been His work.

The shift was quick and calm, and the rest of the session I was praying for Him to be in the room with us, for me to be His presence and His words. When the session ended, we scheduled a session for the next week, I filled out the paperwork for her file, and I left the office. I found the first version of the worship song I'd been praying in session on Spotify, listened to it the entire way home, and cried my eyes out.

There's nothing worth more, that could ever come close

No thing can compare, You're our living hope.

Your presence, Lord

I'd been taught that my humanity should come first, then my training. Though that is true, for me it is only a partial truth. He is the center, and rippling out from that center is my humanity, then my training.

Without Him, there is no work.

Without His presence, we are all absent.

Therefore, Holy Spirit, You are welcome here. You are needed here. You are the work to be accomplished here.

I'd Tell Her

My mom visited this past weekend, and with her she brought my entire file from our family filing cabinet so that any of my important records would be on my side of the country if I needed them. Sounds nice, right?

I was perusing its contents when I came across some old pictures of me from my first orthodontist's records pre-braces. They were mugshot style with no smiling, and I remember taking them. I was nine.

When I first saw them, I smiled and thought I looked like such a cute little human. But the more I looked, remembering what being nine felt like (especially before braces), the sadder I felt for that little girl. She was so self-conscious and already felt so much shame about her thin hair and her freckles and her shyness. I wanted to reach out to her, to write her a letter, something.

I'd tell her she's beautiful, that the tan girls on TV were either faking it or would be regretting their decision a couple years down the road. Freckles would be "the thing to have" soon enough, and her thinner hair gives her the freedom to experiment with it in fun ways to find just the right style.

I'd tell her all of that stuff is true and great, but even so, getting boys' attention at this age wouldn't be best in the long run anyway. I wish I could describe to her how looking too adult too early can hinder a girl's childhood and life thereafter, teaching her to use her looks to get what she wants and never learning how to build her character, or exercise her intelligence, or explore her creativity. I wish I could describe the profound gift it ends up being to have been "left out" of that attention. I'd remind her how she discovered her ear for music, and her sense of humor with her friends, and explored the realms of her imagination while the pretty girls were learning how to flirt and gossip on the playground.

I'd tell her she's learning how to be strong, learning the kind of strength it takes to stay resilient in this kind of life. I'd describe how she's being molded for a deep purpose, and all her thinking and dreaming and listening and watching will help her hit the ground running toward that purpose while others have been distracted. I'd celebrate her sensitive heart and her love of serving others. I'd try to break open her nine-year-old perspective and give her an aerial view of her life and the world, help her see the context of her story in the bigger picture. Peel away the Disney shows and surrounding lies that enchanted her with a life completely revolving around her as the heroine. Tell her to believe me when I say it is so very much a good thing that isn't her life. Also that anyone who leads her to believe their life is like that is lying.

I'd tell her she'll be a late bloomer, and that will be hard, but it will make her who she is for the rest of her life. She would eventually grow into her body and into society with her soul already seasoned and wise. She would suddenly be one of the pretty girls she'd always envied, but she'd have the personality and character most of them never worked on. She'll feel solid and stable because she was developed from the inside out.

I'd tell her to never settle. To trust her instincts. To be kind and to be generous, but to feel no shame in saying no or walking away. To test the boundaries and always question reality.

I'd tell her seventeen years later is a mighty fine view, even without perfect resolution or answered questions.

I'd tell her life is good, and that one day she'll believe it. She'll even look back on her childhood and bask in the goodness she wasn't even aware of at the time.

I'd tell her I remember her, I deeply know her, and that I'm getting to see her story redeemed.

I'd tell her we are loved more than we know. I'd tell her we'll be just fine.

Mercury

In accordance with my intent to find new music this year, I bought a Spotify membership a few months ago to easily access all them tunes. It's also given me the opportunity to check out older favorites' newer albums...it's seriously been YEARS since I caught up with some of these artists. One of them being Ryan O'Neal's one-man band Sleeping at Last.

Grey's Anatomy has put his stuff in the spotlight a ton lately, which is probably great for him but always kinda sucks for listeners who like to secretly cherish their music without it being sold into the slave trade of mass media. He seems to be relatively low-key still. There is hope.

The last few days I have been enchanted by his newest album Atlas, full of songs titled by planet and ocean names, lyrics full of wrestling and wonder, music full of strings and piano. I always find the music I need in the seasons I need them. It's a blessing I always try to be aware of and intentional with.

We're all in-process. I bet you anything you'd listen through this album and find a song that sings your current season, rain or shine. Probably a few, even. Ryan has a gift.

I recently had a breakthrough experience in seeing myself, an incredible "light bulb" moment where some of the most hurtful patterns I've willingly put myself through were finally visible to me. I've been a different person in really important ways since then. I've never, EVER, felt more at peace with myself. But again, we're all in-process, and working through this new realization will take time and effort. It addresses fears that are weaved into some of my earliest hurts and memories. It confronts lies I have operated out of my whole life. My whole life. Cloaked in the guises of courage and vulnerability, what I thought was good has actually been eating me alive. An entire inventory check has to be done to my thoughts and values, catching the foxes that have lived in the vineyard and ruined the harvest time and time again. I want to do this work so badly.

But if humans are anything, they are resistant to change.

Enter this Atlas album, and Ryan's music about this very idea of processing our connections and our purpose. I've clung to one particular song of his as a prayer through this new work, called Mercury. It says in a few verses what I have trouble saying with an unlimited amount of space. Check out the music for yourself, and give these lyrics a read to get your feet wet.

Rows of houses, sound asleep

Only street lights notice me

I am desperate if nothing else

In a holding pattern to find myself

I talk in circles, I talk in circles

I watch for signals, for a clue

How to feel different

How to feel new

Like science fiction bending truth

No one can unring this bell

Unsound this alarm

Unbreak my heart new

God knows I am dissonance

Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune

I'll go anywhere You want

Anywhere You want

Anywhere You want me

I know the further I go, the harder I try

Only keeps my eyes closed

Somehow I've fallen in love

With this middle ground

At the cost of my soul

And I know if I stepped aside

Released the controls

You would open my eyes

That somehow, all of this mess

Is just an attempt to know

The worth of my life

Made of precious metals, precious metals

Precious metals inside

I'll go anywhere You want me

Just Keep Your Head Above

A few weeks ago, I was encouraged to write about grief. I can't say I am an expert, or that I have deeper experiences than anyone else I can think of (in fact, the majority of people in my life have had deep losses), but I feel pulled to express my experience on this platform. Not so much the grief, but what healing has looked like for me. I think healing is always the same process, always the same dance, no matter what has knocked us down. This is what that dance looks like for me. I'll warn you now, it's frank in nature, and therefore explicit.

Funnily enough, my mantra in healing and persevering for the last six years or so is Jack's Mannequin's "Swim". I don't care for the band, to be honest, but that song hits me right where I need a strong voice inside of me when my heart wants to throw in the towel. Andrew wrote it while battling cancer, legitimately fighting for his life.

That's what healing is. A fight for your life.

But you aren't fighting the grief. You aren't trying to beat it; you need it for that very fight. You're trying to beat the feeling of dread that always follows. The "what could possibly come after this?". The "who the hell am I after this?" Maybe, if it's deep enough, even the "who the hell are YOU, God, after this? I don't think my worst enemy would've done this to me, let alone You."

I can think of my deepest grief easily. Witnessing the loss of "Sybil", written about >>here<< for therapeutic purposes. I absolutely suffered from post-traumatic stress from that day, and externalizing that experience into a blog post did more for my healing than I can say. But it wasn't just that day I had to grieve, but also my previous relationships with Sybil's parents and grandparents - my friends and my employers. I stayed in Phoenix about ten months after that day before moving to Portland, and I lived in their grief nearly every day working with them. Most attempts to reconnect and reestablish a relationship were ripped apart by the ongoing grief. We couldn't reach each other, and we were probably the best-suited supporters for each other being that we were all leveled by the same wrecking ball. It turns out November 9th had only been Day One of the loss.

It took a year for me to be ready to fight for my life again.

Coming in at a close second for deepest grievances would have to be losing the best friend I ever had. He also happened to be a serious boyfriend of mine, but that's genuinely beside the point. The real loss in our teenager-induced break-up was the Friend of Friends he was for me and won't ever be again. He was my #1 fan, even when I was in the wrong. He loved me with Christ's love, he saw me through God's eyes. He loved more than our personal interactions, he loved my entire existence. He had a way of speaking into my soul that goes unmatched to this day. His very existence spoke into my soul, because I also saw him through God's eyes. He was deeper than my friend; he was my human. My truest companion. And we had a wonderful four years together that have shaped to this day the person typing to you now. I have a feeling it was a glimpse of how we were all meant to feel connected, and how that connection will feel on the other side of eternity. I am grateful for the time I was given.

That one is an ongoing grief for me, as years pass and I always feel slightly disconnected from others. The last few years, however, I've been ready to fight for connection again. And not uncomfortable with the idea that it will be a fight, thanks to the complexities of growing up in a broken world.

Because I'm worth the fight. And hell, so are you.

Your life is worth fighting for.

Go through the grief. Embrace the loss when you're ready. Once you're on the other side, and life/you feel like a terrifyingly blank slate, that's when you swim.

You've gotta swim, swim for your life

Swim for the music that saves you

When you're not so sure you'll survive

You've gotta swim, swim when it hurts

The whole world is watching

You haven't come this far to fall off the earth

The currents will pull you away from your love

Just keep your head above

I was terrified to swim after Sybil. Because what felt like the biggest blank slate ahead was my relationship with God. I had no idea what loving Him after that darkness would look like. How could I remain who I am if I loved God differently? Well, the answer is that I didn't remain the same. I found new ways to be me, discovered new tastes and new struggles, I've picked up new loves and haven't touched old loves. I let go of what I had assumed was mine and made me me. I swam through the change, chose to grasp tightly to whatever gave me life again, and swam past whatever didn't anymore.

I embraced a struggle with anxiety I didn't have previously. It's profoundly harder to reign in anxious thoughts than it was before a legitimate nightmare was my reality. It's part of me now.

I embraced a new love for external creating/expressing with my senses. I love the formulaic mechanics of brewing coffee in a Chemex, and preparing a portafilter to pull a shot of espresso, and steaming milk based on how the steam is hissing and the rising temperature of the pitcher in my hand. I love the physical and visual process of painting a canvas. One growing desire I have that can't be expressed for a long long time (because $$$) is to learn how to play the cello, teaching my entire body how to embrace this vessel that makes my absolute favorite sound. I genuinely wouldn't have been interested in these processes before. They are part of me now.

I've left behind an old love for internal creating/expressing with my thoughts. This blog is the closest thing of that nature I've kept, and even this has changed into less abstract of content than in previous years. I don't journal much at all anymore, and that used to be such a part of my "process". I used to write letters and stories. I used to just flat out daydream in my room when I was younger, perfectly content with my musings. I don't enjoy photography like I used to, though I probably would if I got into physically developing the film. I still enjoy philosophy, but it used to be the very air I breathed.

My creations were in my mind, my carefully constructed ideas. I simply don't think that way anymore. They aren't part of me now.

I have my theories around these changes, the main one being that I went through such a profound external experience that I'm just a more externally aware person now. But it doesn't really matter why these things changed. What matters is that I let them change. I learned how to be me in the change. I learned how to love God through those new loves, and experience His love through them as well. I chose to swim in the wake of a loss, and fight for my life. Choosing to let joy look differently now.

I have an ebbing and flowing fear of swimming after losing my best friend. It's scary, feeling like letting go of a human would mean letting go of yourself. That swimming away from their existence means swimming away from your own. That somehow, in some way deeeeep down, you're still existing together as companions in this life. That you're still connected, because what you had was outside space and time. If you're wondering why a high school relationship would affect someone in their mid-twenties, that's why; it wouldn't have mattered if we were five or fifty. Time was irrelevant, because we met each other and did life together on an existential level.

Again, I believe we were given a glimpse at what perfect unbroken connection could feel like, even if it wasn't perfect or unbroken. I believe it was real, that we were the right people at the right time for each other for a season. And hell, maybe we could've worked harder at preserving that if we had been older and wiser. Maybe that loss was just as much of an accident as losing Sybil, and it shouldn't have happened.

This is where the fight begins: with the thought that it did happen, and in my situation, it happened by explicit choice. The loss is the aftermath of a conscious decision by a fully-functional human. The door was closed by very real and explicit commitments to someone else, ending all aspects of our connection. And if I thought he was aware enough to see me, know me and choose me, I also had to accept that he was just as aware to choose someone else. It was messy and gray for awhile, but when the dust settled, it was what it was. 

And it never felt "right" to fight for healing, or to swim ahead, I want to make that very clear. Moving forward isn't always the natural impulse. When you lose someone you never thought you would, it's so difficult to feel like you ever really do lose them. When you lose someone "so close that their hand on your chest is your hand", moving forward feels about as natural as amputation.

I'm grateful for the time I was given with such a connection. But damnit, cut my hand off.

Because I refuse to be left in the dirt of someone else's rejection. I refuse to let that be where my heart's story ends. Talk about settling! My life is worth more than that. I fight to search for humans who show up, who choose me, who fight for their own healing. I fight to find fighting humans, made stronger by their pain because they swam through it and weren't defined by it. I fight to connect with others, because I was given such a beautiful glimpse of how deeply we can connect with one another, and I'll always hunger for those depths. I may never get them again. But damnit, I'll die trying and searching. We all get a little harder to reach with accumulating hurts and scars. That's why it's an uphill battle to see each other as clearly as we could as kids. I'm not uncomfortable with that anymore. And in my ongoing journey of learning how to open up to people, I'm given more and more hope that there's surely more than just one human I'm meant to connect with. I swim through the waters of that hope. Even in my more doubtful days where the swim feels meaningless and fruitless, I press on in trust with the prayer of "You better be who the hell You say You are."

For me, healing is that swim.

It's a dance between intentionality and giving up control.

"I choose joy, and I'm giving up control over what 'joy' looks like."

"I choose healthy and deep connections, and I'm giving up the idea that this person is one of those or could ever be again."

"I choose to swim, and I'm letting You choose where. You better be who the hell You say You are."

You've gotta swim, swim in the dark

There's no shame in drifting

Feel the tide shifting, and wait for the spark

You've gotta swim, don't let yourself sink

Just find the horizon

I promise you, it's not as far as you think

The currents will drag us away from our love

Just keep your head above

Just keep your head above. Swim.

Where I Stay

After a childhood of being shuttled around via the Air Force, I've never struggled with the concept of leaving. A place, a situation, a person, anything.  With age and with wisdom I have learned to leave well, and therein to grieve well.

I can say goodbye like you wouldn't believe.

It's not because I avoid attachments or affection; I've painfully left some of the deepest loves I've ever known. Every situation had its own context, so there's no single reason for so many goodbyes.

But because of them, I know myself best in the loneliness that comes with fresh emptiness. With holes to fill. It's miserable and painful, but I truly and deeply understand it. At times, it's felt like my only friend - the space I've made for new growth. Unfortunately, I'm starting to wonder if this "gift" has left me with an unhealthy comfort in that loss and that emptiness.

I'm not sure if I know myself in a context where I stay. In a context where I get to know myself without excessive space. Where something stays present no matter what, and I stay present no matter what. Where the canvas in front of me isn't blank anymore, and possibilities limit themselves as I walk through this door and that door.

A new city becomes less and less new.

A new graduate program becomes less and less new.

Human relationships start requiring maintenance and (rewarding) work.

Big picture question marks start finding their resolutions.

And even when I still love my city, I love my graduate work, I love my humans and I love the idea of resolve, I can't help sensing the itchy thought...

If I left this life and started from scratch somewhere else, I'd be far more comfortable in the emptiness of that vast unknown.

Less satisfied and miserable, but more comfortable.

See the problem? Ha.

I wholeheartedly believe humans need chapters in life with a ton of space and nothing but a blank slate in front of them. Character and wisdom are built in those seasons. But we weren't made for that kind of perpetual existence. We weren't made to continually fly past each other chasing the blank slates we label "adventures."

In the long run, we were created to stay. To abide. To be present, no matter what. Our spirits are always traveling and growing, and my introspective soul wakes up every morning never quite knowing where I'll end up inside myself by the end of the day. I was made for those travels and that growth.

But I wasn't made for a steady flow of goodbyes. They should be few and far between.

I shouldn't eye the exit when things feel congested and stagnant. I should check myself to see how I can grow and thrive right where I'm at.

I shouldn't look elsewhere when things feel less interesting over time. I should brainstorm how I can effortfully keep them interesting and stimulating.

I shouldn't default to distance when things hurt. I should default to honesty and openness up close and personal.

I shouldn't want to leave where I am meant to stay, just for the comfort of familiarity. Sometimes we are too familiar with what should be rare, and our comfort zone can be dangerous.

And so, I hope to grow familiar with hanging my hat in one city. To do life over and over and deeper and deeper with the same friends. To invest in my career to be the best I can be, and not wander off into mediocre side projects. To dig deep. To chip away at the same areas. To grow in the midst of consistency. To live in the adventure of stability. To always push forward, but doing so without leaving. Doing so where I stay.

Feel free to stay with me.

Doing 2015 Well

I've always had a chip on my shoulder towards New Years Resolutions. I figured if a person truly wants to implement a change, they won't wait for a certain time or place to do it. It felt like January was used as a cheap "Starting Line" with no real decision to start a new journey. So I never made resolutions.

...ya know, until this year. ;)

Perhaps it's because so much change has happened in the previous year that this one feels like a genuinely blank slate. I feel incredibly aware of where I am and where I want to be, and a year's length of time to complete my desired goals feels reasonable and achievable. Who knows? All I know is that I am consciously grabbing this year by the horns and being purposeful in my time.

I received a ton of positive feedback on my post about self-care, just a few posts below this one. It was intended to be a fun one for me, a creative way to write down and organize my personal ideas, but it turned into a wonderful conversation piece with friends who had never invested much thought into caring about themselves well in certain ways. New Years Resolutions are less unique in nature, and a few I'll list here are pretty standard for Resolutioners, but I sense that writing them on a public platform could give them life in ways I can't expect. So here we go!

Exercise: Moving Well

We were designed to move and to rest, both fueling our desire for the other. Adjusting to Nashville's geography and weather has left me with the recent realization that there's little local hiking available (my favorite kind of exercise) and very little inspiration to do anything outside when the weather is extreme. This has led to wayyyyyy more resting than moving on my part. I haven't changed in clothing size, but I can tell on several levels that my health is less than acceptable because of this stagnancy. My circulation, digestion, energy level, nerve functioning, skin complexion, and plenty of other aspects of my body have tanked in the last year due to inconsistent or nonexistent exercise. So here comes a gym membership and some running shoes. That elliptical has no idea what it's in for.

Clean Foods, More Water: Consuming Well

See reasoning above for improving on this. It's the only surefire way I won't have an angry stomach after a meal, and clean eating will help my body get back on track with regaining some self-sufficient functioning. Sounds like a nice thing to have, right? And along with all this is a sensitivity to dehydration, which can easily be avoided if I commit to the majority of my beverages being water or water-based, like tea. Lime (or lemon) water with a drop of peppermint oil is a wonderful way to keep your digestive tract calm and clean; I plan on making a pitcher of it to keep in the fridge to be my drinking water. Yes puhlease.

Skin and Hair: Going Natural Well

Have I ever mentioned my go-to beauty inspiration is Clemence Poesy? Whether she's au natural or done up for an event, she radiates. I'm particularly inspired by her underdone look, with air-dried hair and little to no makeup. I don't see myself completely giving up any particular beauty product, since there's always an occassion that calls for some glamour. But this year I want to give my hair a rest from the terrible unwise coloring I put it through this year, bringing it to an inch of its life. Little to no heat, letting it naturally dry and fall where it feels like falling. A common comment I've heard about American women is that they seem to seek perfection. "I feel sorry for them, it must be exhausting" a French editor said in an article. An ongiong goal of mine has been no more perfection-seeking, only letting my natural features shine. I'm sure the exercise and eating well mentioned above will work in my favor in this department.

Capsule Closet: Wearing Well

A capsule wardrobe is a 40-and-under-piece wardrobe for either a season or for forever. Anywhere I've read about women who try it out absolutely love it, and feel like it is liberating rather than restraining. Imagine...being aware of every piece of clothing available to you in a given morning as you dress? And the ability to throw any of it on in any combination and have it look cohesive and even spectacular? I'm actually pretty darn close to this thanks to moving across the country in my Honda; I probably dumped 70% of the clothing I owned in the moving process, and I don't miss a single piece. Everything I own now is less than a year old and something I'd wear any day/anywhere. But that was coincidental, and I want to be more intentional about my shopping. I want to hone in on what I own, what I would like to have, and ONLY purchase those items. Thankfully the minimalist look is in, just in time for my graduate student budget. :P

Pay Off Non-School-Related Debt: Spending Well

Oh hey! Speaking of budgets! This is a big one for me, thanks to new city transitions leaning on a credit card and some medical bills. I am entering into my first significant debt experience, and I am determined to keep my head above water. I didn't grow up with direct instruction on how to manage money; my parents were raised to not share that information even with your own kids. So I am starting from scratch and am terrified. Thankfully, I have friends and resources available to me for support and planning. Deep breaths and baby steps. Deep breaths and baby steps.

Discover Music on Purpose: Listening Well

I've generally been lousy at this. I know what I like when I hear it, but getting me to hear it can be the tricky part. I'm not one to adventure into music finding; I'm usually blessed with friends much more seasoned in the hunt who share their finds with me. But now I'm in Nashville, and music is on every corner. Plus what I used to listen to sounds younger and younger by the day, urging me to find some new tunes asap. The right sound at the right moment means everything. I want to take charge of my sounds.

Paint More, Write More, Breathe More: Expressing Well

I've talked about how painting is an important outlet for me; naturally I've let it slip through my fingers. Not enough time, not enough space, not enough natural light, not enough natural inspiration. But even if painting isn't a probable prospect in a day's time, I can journal. I can read. I can drive to the woods for some air. I can find a self-fulfilling hobby for my sanity, rather than getting restless and moody. Nobody likes the moody human in the room.

Live with the Mighty: Communing Well

"Associate with the noblest people you can find, and live with the mighty." That quote by Thomas Davidson has been my mantra since moving to Nashville. Just like with music, I usually find one solid human and enter into their group of friends without a second thought. If they set up a barbeque, I may go. If they go see a movie, sure I'll join. This can be wonderful, but this can also lead to a passive apathy about really investing in friendships and being seen. I can convince myself to fly under the radar way easier if I am hanging around people I don't care to do life with. My best life chapters are the ones intimately connected to others' chapters. I hope to seek out "my people" more intentionally from here on out. Me setting up coffee dates, me hosting dinner, me being the one to share my heart first. No more half-hearted noodling into circles.

Verbalize My Heart As Much As My Brain: Being Vulnerable Well

This one is pretty straightforward. I tend to be more open about the analytic and logical thoughts that run through my conscious, and less open about my heart. Sometimes there are special humans who seem to sense my heart in the midst of the information, but sometimes it takes some direct communication for my heart to be known. "It seems like things are this way and that way" turns into "I'm hurt. This is heavy and hard. You make me happy. I feel so light and free."

That's all for now. These all stem from an overarching desire to be intentional with my choices and my heart, avoiding a mindless drift into a habit, whether it's as simple as eating or complex as communicating. It all comes from a desire to do 2015 well, and see if by December these goals have become an afterthought and second nature.

I am living an incredible life, and a strange thing happens when things are going well...I stop being intentional. I don't feel the push, I don't feel the hunger for growth or change. This year is about pushing even when it's comfortable, and growing even when it's a harvest.

Happy (Belated) New Year, everyone. May 2015 be ever in your favor.

Sacred Ground of the Beloved

Firstly, I hope you like the slightly updated look around here! I want to thank one of my best friends Blair for collaborating with me to get that fancy new header up there looking just the way I wanted it to. It's her photo and about 80% her edit. If you don't already, follow her on Instagram (@below_my_feet) for more shots that'll spruce up your IG feed with all of the ethereal nature missing in your life.

That specific shot captures what I refer to as "the edge of the abyss", where I fancy myself called by Him to meet people in search of healing. A blog post explaining more of that can be found >>here<< if you're new and intrigued.


I recently picked up a book I've been meaning to read for years called The Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. I read most of it the night I bought it and have had tears in my eyes more than once because of it. Henri wrote this for a good friend of his who asked him to write about the spiritual life for himself and his friends, all secular entrepreneurs in New York City. It is a no-nonsense take on the spiritual side of the human condition, where Someone finds us and abides with us in our deepest parts.

Here's an excerpt that has stuck with me:

"Aren't you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along and give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don't you often hope: 'May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country, or relationship fulfill my deepest desire.' But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy, but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death.

Well, you and I don't have to kill ourselves. We are the Beloved. We are intimately loved long before our parents, teachers, spouses, children, and friends loved or wounded us. That's the truth of our lives. That's the truth I want you to claim for yourself. That's the truth spoken by the voice that says, 'You are my Beloved.'

Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center words that say:

'I have called you by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, in you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother's womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate than that of a mother for her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own as I know you as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your lover, and your spouse...yes, even your child...wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one.'"

That excerpt reminded me of another book called Sit, Walk, Stand by Watchman Nee, in which Nee emphasizes the necessity of spiritually resting in Christ before ever attempting work. Moving forward in that position of rest can be thought of as how you move forward in a car, sitting still but making forward progress. We must know we are accepted and justified in Him first and foremost; there is nothing to earn, there is no work to be done for those ends. That is how we experience "the Living Water" of His presence, after which we'll never thirst again, and how we can be called to "never worry about anything" (Philippians 4:6) because nothing that comes our way has the power to rob us of our identity or our rest.

I was going to go into how I've applied that truth to my own life, and perhaps encourage you to do the same, but the more I wrote the less I felt movement behind it, so I'm stopping there. Lord knows I didn't need help deciding how those truths should hit my heart. So take them as you wish, and pull me aside to talk about them if you feel like working it out more.

In the meantime, rest. Even in your chaos.

Pay attention to the voice that rarely calls glamorous attention to itself. That's where these truths are.

And sit with your innermost self, taking note of your own body-to-soul conversations, and Who is there with you in those depths.

I wholeheartedly believe that to be the sacred ground of His true work on this earth.

"Why burn poor and lonely?"

A common theme I find in conversations I have with friends, all of us now in our mid to late twenties, is a romanticized cherishing of some era that has now past in our lives. The range of time differs for everyone, but the common thread is that we all felt so much more present in those years than we do in our lives now. We felt more fully known, more fully expressed, more fully alive.

"I haven't felt like myself in five years."

"That was the one place that has ever really felt like home."

"No one has really loved me that deeply since then."

I'm right there too. For me, those years were 2004-2006. Life wasn't perfect; if anything it was one of the hardest times living in my home. But I was in a youth group that loved me so deeply and taught me so much. I had wonderful friends who worshipped with me and laughed with me and did real talk with me. I shared a love with a boy that was one for the books, a love I haven't seen the likes of since. And to top it all off, some of the best music I have ever experienced was being created and performed in those years, some of which I believe I owe my sanity to. Very few bands have hit my heart like the bands of that era.

Ten years later, and my life is unrecognizable, other than my relationship with God. New old friends, new NEW friends, a new city, college come and gone, life-changing memories come and gone, chapters and chapters and chapters of my life now in the past. I can't begin to tell you how much I love my life, and how blessed I feel to have walked every step of it.

But damn. I'd be lying if I said I felt 100% at home anywhere in that decade. It always felt like someone was missing who I wished I could tell my stories to. Like I was lacking resolve. Like I was experiencing life, but never resting in it. Like I was traveling and having a wonderful time doing so, but I'd left people behind or had people ahead of me who were missing out. It felt like I was a widow rebuilding my life in the wake of a loss, my late husband being an entire community and a timeless romance that slipped through my fingers. People have known me and loved me in that decade and vice versa, but never in quite the same way. Somewhere along the way there was a line drawn in the sand between Before and After, and I have always been aware of that line, even a decade into living in the After. My relationships in this After space have been informed by my life in the Before, my ever-increasingly romanticized ideal state of existence. "This reminds me of how things used to be, so that's a good sign." "They remind me of so-and-so, and I LOVED that person, so I'm getting close."

Like pictures and artifacts that people collect and save to remind them of their own story, and who's loved them. I tote these memories along with me everywhere like an anchor keeping me from some form of "unbeing".

I have longed for the day when my life feels like it is fully mine again, with everyone present who needs to be, and I can bury those memories respectfully. Then have the freedom to run around without that baggage, and "use both hands" in engaging with life, and be present NOW. Letting this moment and these people move me like I used to allow to my past moments to do.

Enter: mewithoutYou

This is one of the bands I mentioned that I have to thank for so many aspects of how I look at the world and how I approach my walk with Christ. They were a mentor, a friend, a musical therapy for me. Specifically their record Catch For Us the Foxes. It contains some of the most honest writing I've ever heard.

I saw them live twice during that cherished era of mine. One of those shows was in 2005 and entailed the entirety of that record performed, and I went with my most beloved humans. It is a specific memory I've held onto that captures the magic of my life back then musically and relationally. I was on cloud nine.

Enter: A decade later in the After space, new to Nashville, new everything, in the wake of closed doors and at the threshold of new ones to open.

mewithoutYou is on a ten-year anniversary tour of Catch For Us the Foxes, and they played in Nashville last night. I knew it would be great. But I didn't know it would catalyze the change that it has.

For starters, everyone in the place was in their mid-twenties or older. Which makes sense, given how old the album is. The opening bands got the casual attention most opening bands get at shows, so no surprise there. But the moment mewithoutYou were on stage and began the intro to "Torches Together" the place exploded. You could smell the catharsis in the air. You could feel how influential this record had been on every single human in the room. Not a soul was standing still. And there's something about yelling raw and honest words that helped you love your God as a kid, along with everyone else in the room doing the same thing, that feels a whole lot like worshipping together. Every single one of us a completely different person than who we were when we first fell for this album, maybe a bunch of us not caring for the Christian notion of how God interacts with us, but every single one of us yelling the likes of "we all have our beliefs, but we don't want our beliefs...God of Peace, we want You" with our entire being, moving to the haunting riffs and syncopated drumming mewithoutYou has mastered. I found myself grinning through the entire show because I knew on an elemental level that we were all celebrating the times of life this band had been part of in our stories. We were all celebrating what "home" had been for us.

I thought about the people I'd seen them with ten years ago, thought about where they are now and where I am now. The same songs, the same humans on a stage in front of me, the same feeling of being alive, but without those souls at my side.

I felt the smallest sensation of you can let go now. those times were beautiful. but so are these times.

Perhaps what makes our younger days feel so much more vibrant is that we lived without question or hesitation. We had nothing substantial to compare it to. Life was life, and we lived it, and everything since has felt like a comparison to that freedom.

But we are always that free.

Life is always worth fully engaging in, and we'll never fully understand why until we're in it and we discover its worth for ourselves. So BE HERE. NOW.

I think I'd been waiting for someone to rescue me from an underwater state, pulling me to the surface, and suddenly I'd be able to fully live.

Last night, in contrast, was a gentle tap on the shoulder and the notion of "Did you know you can swim?" If I am under water, I have been choosing to be there. The surface has been worth my time all along. We all get older and have more complexities in our hearts, more stories to tell and more scars to heal, but that doesn't take away from our ability to fully be with one another. If anything, it enhances it. If anything, our interactions here in the After space can be even more beautiful and meaningful than before the pain.

Healing and growth happen over time and in waves. But this is a wave long awaited for, and I am already feeling the freedom I've been longing for. The burying of the old and the full awareness of the now.

Once again, mewithoutYou has helped me know myself and know Him deeper.

Typical.

So nevermind our plan-making

We'll start living

Anyway, aren't you unbearably sad?

Then why burn so poor and lonely?

We'll be like torches, we'll be like torches

We'll be like torches

We'll be torches together, torches together

(Torches together, hand-in-hand)