Finding Nemo is one of my favorite Disney Pixar films. I identify with Dory so much. Her forgetfulness reminds me of what anxiety does to my brain. It produces a fog in me that I can't explain. Makes me lose focus, and the ability to do simple things when it's at its worse. Her sense of not having a family or direction spoke to me also. I have not spoken to my immediate family in close to 5 years, but God has brought me spiritual families in so many seasons of my life.
In the journey of Finding Nemo, Dory finds family in two strangers. She also finds herself. I find the story to be quite biblical. In fact in my graduate studies I wrote a story about how Disney and Pixar use Christian themes in their stories. Sometimes I think it's the only way God knows his children will hear him is through creative expression like song, dance, art, and movies.
Sometimes this Dory sits on my bed, sometimes in my car. She reminds me that God will leave the 99 for the 1 every time. His love is that powerful, and that strong. He loves his children that much.
Thank you Father for coming after me. In my wilderness, my struggle, my sin -- you always kept coming after me.
I toss and turn--then I remember my wedding trick.
The thing I use to do to help me fall asleep….before my depression took away my ability to dream.
I close my eyes and imagine---my wedding.
It is set on a Hawaii beach.
The background is a perfect sunset. Cotton candy skies, and crashing waves.
The sand is white….
I am walking barefoot -- in a slimming white dress -- I can not see the face of my groom.
But my heart feels he is the kind of man I’ve been waiting for my entire life.
He is kind, compassionate, funny, sexy.
He covers and honors me… and he is everything Corinthians say about love.
Flowers line the beach, creating an aisle for me to walk down.
There are no guests… just me, my long overdue groom… and Dwayne Johnson.
He is officiating our wedding--- and I as walk down the aisle.
The Great One sings the theme song from Moana.
It is sweet and tender, and it feels so right….
Before I reach the altar to face my groom-- my body is in deep slumber.
I awake the next morning, energized
Thursday, I worry I will have I will have a restless night.
I am anxious for a reason I can not place.
I decide to try the wedding trick again to ease my anxiety.
I turn on some R and B --- I lie on the floor and I am there again-- a Hawaii sunset.
And, I think for a fleeting moment of my husband and I in Hawaii.
A storm is brewing outside
I feel fear swell in my heart.
God I say is this--- the best that life has to offer me right now.
I pray -- God I am not testing you, but show me there is more than this.
Give me a sign that my best days are ahead.
I exhale , and rise from the floor.
Moments later I get a friend request from a man I don’t know.
He lives in Pearl City, Hawaii.
I chuckle, and accept…
"Mahalo" he types.
After I ask if this his attempt at pursuing a BBW fantasy or scam me for money ---
we spend the next few hours messaging about life, depression, survival suicide, God
I explain to Mr. Hawaii that if he remembers nothing from this chance meeting - that God wants him to know that he is in the rebuilding business.
NO matter how broken or messed up or unqualified we think we are… God makes all things news.
Jeremiah 31:4 says “I will rebuild you and you will dance again.”
You and I Mr. Hawaii have not even began to dance.
He shares with me that he too prayed to God for a sign on this faith
angel number evening (March 21, 2021) to show him a sign.
I am sure then that the God of all things bring two souls together on
opposite sides of the world for a time such as this.
I do not know what will happen next -- but I know my Father uses all things,
ordinary, big, small, and grand to speak directly to his children. To invirograte them.
I feel God is tell me --- don’t lose heart , your best days are still ahead.
I find myself yearning for Mr. Hawaii in a way I have not in a long time.
I feel seen in a way I havent
HIs admiration makes me fall in love with myself.
I want to walk a little straighter --- work a little harder.
Could this be the beginning of something beautiful - a love I have never known..
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I feel God has been telling for several seasons to find a way to control my thoughts. The things that flow through my head, my internal talk; when I learn to harness that I will live fully alive. So many things in the word say a man is as he thinks. Meaning we are what we think of ourselves. And, if I’m honest my thought life is horrible.
Here’s why I think God is speaking – consider these sermons I’ve stumbled upon recently
Then in small group we were encouraged to memorize this:
“Finally, brothers and sisters whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right,
whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -think about such things…” Philippians 4:8
God even calls us to FIX our mind on these things which says to me this is not our natural way. This is not how we are wired. We have to be intentional, we have to wrangle our thoughts into submission to what the word says, who God says we are.
Without this FIXING our minds will be slaves to our circumstances, our trauma, heartache, the opinions of others, the regrets of our past.
And I know because I am a slave to these things, but today I consider if I fixed my mind not only on what is lovely…. And acknowledging I am what I remember and what I forget – then maybe I could break the shackles of self defeat, shame, guilt, regret, and disappointment.
Follow as I guide you through who I remember about me , my life, my loves, and my dreams.
If I remember --- the day I met the best love of my lifetime. I walked into his store, and time moved still. For a better part of 5 years we loved each other through family death, loss, our own delayed development. We tried so hard… even though life has taken us on different paths. I remember that I experienced beautiful, real love. A man who covered me, a man who honored me – a man who took me to church, his family, and into his heart.
Remembering this and what God says about giving the desires of my hearts is why I a can say I will be loved by a great man again. I am a partner worth having. I am good woman.
Remembering the days I seemed to report on every part of the Lynchburg market in one day – writing the stories, updating the website, making it on-air. Doing the swimming story that saved lives --- remembering when I made it to my hometown station – a high in the pie out of the stadium shot I called and made reality --- remembering this I can say
I am a talent storyteller. I am a natural speaker. I am a world changer. I am a leader. I am a multitasker. I can and I will rediscover a career in media and tv somehow. I will live and eat off a career from my creative spirit. My greatness destiny is still before me.
If I remember those long distance runs --- putting one foot in front of the other—running the streets of Richmond, finally working out in a sports bra – the thrill of crossing the finish line of my first 10k – I can say I am able. I am disciplined. I am an active person. I will complete a half marathon it is in me.
I could go on and on.. and as I write this I feel the sparks of joy of dreams long forgotten. I the rattling of the shame shackles that keep me from loving – maybe this is the beginning of breakthrough , a reawakening , of the sunflowers poking through a weeded garden.
If you could remember the greatness you’ve already done, the obstacles you’ve overcome – what would they say about you?
First we REMEMBER -- then we FIX OUR MIND TO THESE THINGS--- NEXT we ACT!
In a session this week, my therapist likened the state of my mind to an imagery I’ve long forgotten in my depression: a garden full of wild sunflowers with green plush grass. White fluffy clouds decorate the sky. The sun is visible. It’s warm, but not sticky hot. It feels like the perfect summer day, but there’s a sense of peace, and joy. It’s that kind of unexplainable joy kids feel on the last day of school. Bouncing off the bus to a summer of possibility.
“Your mind is like a beautiful garden. The sunflowers you love dance freely there. It’s when you feel your best self. Trauma is like weeds. The weeds are deeply rooted. They suffocate the growth in your beautiful garden. Through therapy we can get to the roots of those weeds. I’ll help you pull them up, face them, and toss them out,” my therapist said.
A beautiful garden. The imagery brought me so much peace. All day I could not shake the idea of my mind being this beautiful garden. My mind has felt nothing like a garden the past 4 months. It feels like a wet, soggy, cold, and windy unrelenting storm. Clouds so thick the sun where my dreams live aren't visible. Whipping rain paralyzes me into a daily monotony of sleeping, overeating, isolating, and doing the bare minimum to survive. I only think of surviving, and enduring this all consuming storm. A storm so intense it clouds everything; how I see myself in the mirror, the words I speak, the future I’ve lost hope in.
But a beautiful garden. It brought to mind something I’ve tried in the past to clear the darkness of depression; hypnosis. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder in my early twenties. I didn’t know half of what I know, but I was desperate for relief. So when I heard of a local woman who did hypnosis, I decided to give it a try. For the first few sessions, I was extremely anxious, a little weirded out and scared. For a while all I did was kind of fall into a meditative sleep. I used the sleeping CD’s she gave me to help guide me into sleep. As I learned more about hypnosis, I started to ease in to the experience. I recall the moment I found my beautiful garden in my sessions with her.
“Close your eyes,” she said in calm voice. “Now imagine you are walking down a flight of stairs. Each time you go down a stair count from 1 and keep going.”
I did as instructed, and as I keep counting, I saw myself descending down a white staircase in the clouds. Every step was slow and measured. When I got to twelve, the stairs descended into a green field. I could feel the warmth of the sun, and a soft breeze. I walked barefoot through crisp grass. I was taken in by the never ending length of the field. The green grass, speckled with every beautiful flower you can think, went on for miles. As I kept walking, I saw in the distance a brown wooden bench, anchored by black steel legs. A woman was sitting there gazing off into the distance. I slowly walked closer to her. Something about her seemed familiar. Her dark drown her, her light skin that we would call high yellow if I was in Mississippi. The closer I got to her the more familiar she felt. It’s life my heart felt drawn to her. Slowly walking from behind the wooden bench, I was shocked at who I saw.
“Aunt Doris, but you’re…” I said.
“In Heaven? Yes, I’m in Heaven, but sometimes I wait here for you,” she said. She turned to me and smiled. She rested her hand on space beside her. An invitation to sit with her.
As a child, I always wanted alone time with Aunt Doris. Her house was a hard, long walk from my great grandmother’s house in Mississippi. But, when you got there, it made every hardship you endured getting there worth it. Her house always had cool air conditioning which was a savior in the blistering summer months. She would give me these special pickles. I now know as a adult they were Claussen. But, aa a kid all I knew it was they didn’t sell them at the corner store for 99 cents, and I felt special getting them. She told my little brother that if he ate them, he’d turn into a tadpole. But for some reason, I could eat them. It was one of the small ways she made me feel special. In my teenager years I learned that Aunt Doris almost adopted me at birth. The adoption would be kept a secret so my 19 year old mother could finish college. When I learned this fact, it endeared me to her even more. The last time I saw her alive, she was dying from cancer. I was twenty-something and making my first real salary as a tv reporter. I wanted to honor her in the way she did through her small acts of service. I recall taking her and my uncle to Golden Corral. I felt so much pride, when I picked up the check. It didn’t matter that she didn’t eat much, and seemed tired. I was proud to do that for her. The rest of the trip I wanted to experience Aunt Doris as an adult. I wanted to sit around and watch television, and finally talk at the grown folks table. I wanted to lay in her bed while she held me, play in her jewelry and hear about her younger self. She wouldn’t let me. At every turn she prompted me to go visit this family member, and be sure to say how to this person. It seemed that as she was dying, she wanted to push me to keep living. One night, I crept back into her bedroom while she slept, and I just watched her breathe. I softly walked inside her room. I ran my hand over the jewelry on her dresser, before leaving her to rest. Her last act of love was giving me the only picture of my biological father. The story around his life and reasons for leaving are sketchy. I had only learned of him when I was 12. He died before I could meet him. Aunt Doris died weeks later after my last trip to see her.
But, somehow under hypnosis, down the 12 twelve steps I could see her. I sat down next to her, and rest my head on her shoulder. She put her arm around me, and for a while we just there.
When I awoke from hypnosis I told the practitioner about the beautiful field, and the bench where I sat with my Aunt Doris.
“That’s beautiful. Just that imagery at night if it helps guide you to sleep,” she said.
Every night for weeks, I closed my eyes eager to go down those twelve steps to sit in on that wooden bench with Aunt Doris. Some time I’d sit with her and cry for heartache, or disappointment. Sometimes I’d rattle off all the troubles in my life. Something about her presence helped me awake with hope. I’d see her in my dreams in varying parts of my Mississippi memories. She was always comforting or caring for something. And, the moment I arrived she’d acknowledge me and let me sit with her.
Somewhere in the broken paths of my life, I lost access to the beautiful field with my Aunt Doris. For some many years I’ve been fighting to survive my depression, my homelessness, the destruction of my charmed life, the battle wounds of trauma, the weeds blocked the staircase.
Last night I as I laid in my bed crying, I whispered, “God, I am so lost, I’m in pain, and I can’t do any of this in my own strength. Your word says you are closed to the broken heart. Father that is me. Please, please Father given me the strength to find my way.”
As I closed my eyes, for the first time in years I saw a familiar sight; a single descending staircase. Each step down, my body remembered the practice from those hypnosis sessions years ago. At the bottom of the twelfth step was access to the field. It was like I remembered. Tall green grass that spanned for miles. The feeling of warmth from the sun, a cool breeze, and a wooden bench with a single occupant.
I ran fast to the bench, and to my surprise there she was; Aunt Doris.
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
As I sat down next to her, I wept.
“Oh, Aunt Doris….so much has happened.”
“Tell me about it.”
And for the rest of slumber, I told Aunt Doris in our beautiful garden the reason all the weeds were in our field. …
Excuse my language, but I don't know any other way to describe 2020. It fucking sucked. It has left me empty, alone, and hopeless. I write this as I am struggling with one of the hardest depressive episodes
I've experienced in years. I am aware that colors some of reflections about 2020, but not all of it. I've had time the last few weeks to look back, and there's nothing else I can conclude. 2020 fucked me up, and took some of the best parts of me.
Before the lockdown, I fell in love with a flashy, egocentric man who flaunted to the world success and discipline. His emotional scars looked and felt so much like mine. His love of Christ made me ignore so much of his ungodly behavior. The closer I got to him the more I saw so many alarming edges. The kind of edges we all form when we have not forgiven ourselves, when our hurt has turned from anger to hate. The kind of jagged hurt that no matter how much we try, will harm the people who want to love us. But, I didn't run. I felt so broken, and damaged that any form of love even the toxic kind made me feel good. I swallowed my discomfort to cater to his emotional needs. I stayed when he called me a bitch and a whore, smacked other women's asses in front of me, and ultimately forced me to do something that I did not want. I recall everything in me telling me to run that night. But I didn't. I just kind of went outside of myself to get through it. It would take me weeks to share this with my therapist, and only then did I realize it was abuse. I still blame myself for putting myself in that moment with him.
I met a man that showed me love could be different. That it didn't have to hurt. It wasn't disrespectful or condescending. We went on dates. He made me laugh. I attempted to let him enter my world. I told him about the broken parts of me that had not healed. He waited to kiss me, and showed me off to his dozens of lady friends. But, I've learned you have to be careful who you share your shame story with. The nitty gritty, dark places are not for everyone. I shared my family's abandonment, my life on the street, instead of empathy I got interrogations. Why did I do this? Why did I do that? It's in those moments I wish I had not shared my shame story with the wrong person. He was not someone who could love me judgement free. He always seems to be searching, seeking for the origins of my brokeness. And when I needed him most, he abandoned me too.
He taught me that some parts of yourself are sacred, only to be shared with a special person who has proven they can handle it with care. People who get the right to hear your shame story have proven they will honor it. They will not judge it or remind you of it. In one of our biggest fights, he took my shame like a sword and plunged it my heart. His exact words, "You will always be broken." They still haunt me. My pattern of taking even toxic love continued even after this. I thought we could start over, move past it. Shortly after a young person I was mentoring died suddenly and the pain felt like a swift kick to the stomach. It took my breath away, and left me unable to sleep for almost a week. Then I broke..
I really did break. A mental break, one of the scariest I had ever experienced. A part of my past I may never share fully. What I do feel safe to share is - I've never felt more afraid in my entire life. And in the throws of it people I trusted intimately exposed my crisis. Used their city titles to strip me of any dignity I had in that moment. After nearly a week in a psych hospital I came out feeling more alone, and broken than ever. Bonds were broken forever. Betrayal simmered in my bones. The world felt unsafe, and so did people.
I buried myself in work, wanting to escape. I now wore two masks one to protect me from COVID and another to hide the pain that I had buried. The violation, the betrayal, the abandonment, my safety net being ripped away from me. It was if I couldn't bare to face those things so I hide them under pretty selfies, and overworking.
Now with no distractions, the mundane life of seclusion - I can no longer hide the facts. I am not happy with myself or my life. I am struggling to find purpose, and I feel empty.
Part of writing this is to release the need to hide behind something, anything. This is where I am right now.
You know how so many people say you have to sit it in? Feeling your feelings? Who actually does that? Now, I am. I no longer want to push them under this invisible rug to keep going. I no longer want to hear, "You're be alright" with no guidance to the right. Maybe it's only from the bottom you can see your way out.
Some may read this and think, 'Eek this is dark, depressing even." For those I will say I'm active in therapy and working on clawing my way out. But, I need to say this. I need to release this notion that I'm happy.
I am not okay, and now I want to investigate why. I am not happy and I want to find what my new happy feels like. I have no direction, and I want to maybe explore places unknown.
