So I haven’t “really” blog in a couple weeks, certainly not the end of the world but nonetheless absent from this cathartic ritual of exposing more than I ever dared or thought possible. I find myself escaping life in other avenues and pining away for adventures yet to be had. You can’t image the hours spent on travel websites last week. I also plunged full force into dress shopping for a wedding I’ll be attending in September. So many colors, materials, styles and prints… a harmless escape to my online cart that never checks-out. Surface wise this shouldn’t be a growing concern.
For whatever reason I thought about my blog and writing almost every day last week and almost childlike refused to share even a word. It’s hard to determine the exact emotion or what was manufacturing it but I know that I needed to breath out these truths no matter how embarrassing, selfish, trivial they may be, that was why I engaged in this process anyway.
It’s hard to make what I’m feeling come across as witty or endearing because I’m just a mess. Most of the things I’ve been saying and feeling lately aren’t even me. Out of simple fear that the evil comments running around my head get loose I’ve just distanced myself from everyone and everything determined to try to cope and deal.
At the risk of sounding completely melodramatic my current affliction is the fact that my last period was April 23rd, 2011. For those of you who aren’t mathematicians that’s over 100 days and a little more that 14 weeks. If someone had told me they’d experienced this I’d probably be secretly jealous, for those of you that know me my cycles are nightmarish and I can’t say that I’d mind missing one or two. Obviously flaw in this would be miraculous gift is you can’t get pregnant if you’re body isn’t working properly. The second being that I am completely and utterly miserably. I’d probably go about my business and see this blessed vacation as a gift if it weren’t for this. You know that feeling the 24hrs-12hrs before you start when you “just know”…that sense that your just about to lose control of your body for the next few days? I wake with it, work with it, sleep with it. I’m sure I don’t need to delve into the universal symptoms and extreme discomfort that go along with this prolonged process.
One thing and a big thing I’d like to liberate into the digital world is a diagnosis I got from my OBGYN a couple weeks back. It turns out that I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). Frankly, I’d suggest looking it up because I’m still trying to determine in laymen’s terms what it entails. Apparently it’s fairly common, like 5%-10% of women suffer from it after my sarcastic response of “great I get to be another statistic, aren’t I lucky to be so numerically challenge”, I felt a slightly relieved. The associated symptoms are direct concerns that have come up over that last few years such as my fertility issues, weight gain and skin problems. I sincerely thought I’d been punished for perfect skin in my teenage years and to go through such physical changes without cause made me feel out of control and insane.
This turned out more like a journal entry but I need to keep the people that are special to me close and I know they want to support me so it was worth sharing. This is me and my dailies right now.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
a dash of Micah 6:8 and a splash of Matthew 4:4
We all have our favorite smells and spices. That special ability to make a recipe our own, fashioned just right to our particular needs and cravings. Sometimes certain combinations have that just right marriage of complete rebirth into something that you never knew you always wanted. Aside from the obvious salty with sweet or chocolate with peanut butter, life mixes in the strangest dashes of obstacles and experiences.
I’ve been struggling to make my Colorado church my home. I can’t help it, I grew up and got to attend some pretty amazing congregations and based on that luxury I continually let my expectations exceed reality. Actually that’s a general issue with me. The fact is I’ve been sabotaging my relationship with my church. The worship isn’t as good, the pastor looses my attention, and the people are unusual etc... This isn’t a judgment passed on them but more an excuse for me to remain unconnected.
Sunday happened to be a mini breakthrough for me. There’s usually at least one key point in a message that feels like a sucker punch but this time it was an illumination of everything. I barely had time to recover from a statement before another equally as powerful and humbling as the one that preceded it…I couldn’t write fast enough and frankly I barely got most of it on paper for fear of being distracted.
Our general series is about loving one another but the leading subject was spiritual growth. This is always convicting and I’m left to wonder if I’m growing in the proper increments. Like when a parent worries if their child isn’t developing at the rate of others…haunted by comparisons. Somewhere in-between the scriptures and explanations we approached the topic of nutrition came up. My light bulb started to flicker. Ding! For years my spiritual feedings have been a strict diet of baby food. I’ve had these fresh prepared meals catered to suit my personal taste.
As of late, in my new church, I’ve been malnourishing myself, rejecting certain things because I didn’t care for the look or taste of things immediately. I’ve been living like I’d been offered a buffet and I could pick and choose as I pleased. I guess that’s alright for some people and on occasion but just as I need to have a balanced healthy diet in my human body my spiritual body longs for it. Things wouldn't function otherwise or even shut down if not properly tended to.
Just to continue with the literal analogy and switch off my childlike “picky-eater syndrome” I’m going to learn to start cutting my own meat again and eating properly, no more taste testing and adjusting the menu. In this process I hope to mature my palate and develop a taste for life the way He’s intended me to.
I’ve been struggling to make my Colorado church my home. I can’t help it, I grew up and got to attend some pretty amazing congregations and based on that luxury I continually let my expectations exceed reality. Actually that’s a general issue with me. The fact is I’ve been sabotaging my relationship with my church. The worship isn’t as good, the pastor looses my attention, and the people are unusual etc... This isn’t a judgment passed on them but more an excuse for me to remain unconnected.
Sunday happened to be a mini breakthrough for me. There’s usually at least one key point in a message that feels like a sucker punch but this time it was an illumination of everything. I barely had time to recover from a statement before another equally as powerful and humbling as the one that preceded it…I couldn’t write fast enough and frankly I barely got most of it on paper for fear of being distracted.
Our general series is about loving one another but the leading subject was spiritual growth. This is always convicting and I’m left to wonder if I’m growing in the proper increments. Like when a parent worries if their child isn’t developing at the rate of others…haunted by comparisons. Somewhere in-between the scriptures and explanations we approached the topic of nutrition came up. My light bulb started to flicker. Ding! For years my spiritual feedings have been a strict diet of baby food. I’ve had these fresh prepared meals catered to suit my personal taste.
As of late, in my new church, I’ve been malnourishing myself, rejecting certain things because I didn’t care for the look or taste of things immediately. I’ve been living like I’d been offered a buffet and I could pick and choose as I pleased. I guess that’s alright for some people and on occasion but just as I need to have a balanced healthy diet in my human body my spiritual body longs for it. Things wouldn't function otherwise or even shut down if not properly tended to.
Just to continue with the literal analogy and switch off my childlike “picky-eater syndrome” I’m going to learn to start cutting my own meat again and eating properly, no more taste testing and adjusting the menu. In this process I hope to mature my palate and develop a taste for life the way He’s intended me to.
Monday, July 11, 2011
reciprocate my love
A pen and paper but words have no sound.
A walk with a breeze but not a thought to hold.
Light notes and pale colors…
I’d like for you to go away.
A part that’s longing to forget.
Getting into these mistakes is aged.
New days with revelations is growth.
Breaking past moments and waiting,
Define me.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
the good, the bad, and the absurd
I’m going to tell you something and hope it gets forgotten. Sometimes I wander onto message boards I have no business to being a part of… Back when I was pregnant I got into The Bump. Possibly the worst idea ever. Too much information. Too much negativity. Just too much. I was terrified of every little symptom or lack of them but I couldn’t get away. I was completely sucked into it, while despising the drama the mean girls would create and vicariously living through the naïve and blissfully pregnant. What is it about others seemingly mundane lives that is so engrossing? I guess this begs the concept of reality tv. Okay, I’m getting off track, the thing is I have been known to creep around on there a bit. Okay maybe a lot. Possibly daily.
I pick and choose the boards I enjoy, sometimes for comic relief other times just for a sense of unity. I dare not post in fear that I may be attacked for using the wrong acronym or re-posting a question that’s been answered previously. Sheesh. Makes you wonder why it’s there when it’s been corrupted by so many people unwilling to help without a slap on the wrist? Like I said aside from moments when I just want to scream “What is wrong with you people?!?!” it can be funny, actually hysterical. Mostly due to my un-posted, will-never-see-the-light-of-day remarks.
Last week I was on the “Baby Name Board”, quite possibly my favorite because the same women seem to patrol it regularly with their rules and regulations on spelling, originality, likes and dislikes etc… While I was lurking perusing there happened to be a post with my baby name on it. Gasp! (Please note I have no baby to speak of.) I almost had a meltdown ala Charlotte from the first season of Sex and the City:
No, it's not my name. It's my name, my secret baby name that I made up when I was 11 years old for my daughter when I had her. I told you. Don't tell me you don't remember!
Hi, my name is Rachel and I am a secret baby namer. I have names that I’ve loved for years and am unyielding even if they aren’t met with the same appeal as others. I don’t tell my names, because yeah someone could “steal” it or even a version of it. Plain silliness because I didn’t invent it or own right to it. Either way, I calming clicked to read the responses and everyone hated it. Secretly I was thrilled thinking that due to the unanimous pessimistic reactions she’d dismiss the name. Then again slightly defensive as to why it was such an “awful” name. I find myself stalking the poor woman hoping she brings up other name ideas. I may need an intervention.
I pick and choose the boards I enjoy, sometimes for comic relief other times just for a sense of unity. I dare not post in fear that I may be attacked for using the wrong acronym or re-posting a question that’s been answered previously. Sheesh. Makes you wonder why it’s there when it’s been corrupted by so many people unwilling to help without a slap on the wrist? Like I said aside from moments when I just want to scream “What is wrong with you people?!?!” it can be funny, actually hysterical. Mostly due to my un-posted, will-never-see-the-light-of-day remarks.
Last week I was on the “Baby Name Board”, quite possibly my favorite because the same women seem to patrol it regularly with their rules and regulations on spelling, originality, likes and dislikes etc… While I was lurking perusing there happened to be a post with my baby name on it. Gasp! (Please note I have no baby to speak of.) I almost had a meltdown ala Charlotte from the first season of Sex and the City:
No, it's not my name. It's my name, my secret baby name that I made up when I was 11 years old for my daughter when I had her. I told you. Don't tell me you don't remember!
Hi, my name is Rachel and I am a secret baby namer. I have names that I’ve loved for years and am unyielding even if they aren’t met with the same appeal as others. I don’t tell my names, because yeah someone could “steal” it or even a version of it. Plain silliness because I didn’t invent it or own right to it. Either way, I calming clicked to read the responses and everyone hated it. Secretly I was thrilled thinking that due to the unanimous pessimistic reactions she’d dismiss the name. Then again slightly defensive as to why it was such an “awful” name. I find myself stalking the poor woman hoping she brings up other name ideas. I may need an intervention.
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