InstaFriday

Lots of tiny blessings this week that made a few very hard days very sweet and wonderful.  That's how life goes sometimes.  You have to look beyond the bad stuff the the very good.  It's in everything.  You just have to want to find and savor it.

 One little Gage, fresh from the shower.  Mommy made him into a mummy with his big fluffy towel and then we cuddled up on the couch together in our pajamas.  A wonderful ending to the day.

10 and 1/2 years of marriage later and I still think that he hung the stars in the sky.  I love him.  And he's mighty handsome too!

Some mornings you just need to drink mass amounts of coffee out of a really cheesy mug in order to feel human.  For me, this is how roughly 99% of my mornings start.

Valentine's Day is making an appearance in our house, starting with a failed attempt at a cute banner and a make do and mend attempt that resulted in the new cute one hanging from my chalkboard.  This favorite verse of mine is fitting for a day all about love, don't you think?

My Project Life album is progressing.  And I'm actually caught up with 2013, which is a pretty huge achievement for me.  Let's not even talk about my 2012 album. 

Vanilla yogurt mixed with some yummy peanut butter granola made by a sweet friend of mine.  I'm pretty sure this stuff is heaven on earth. 

Play along!

Life Rearranged

Twenty Below

Thank you friends, for your kind response to my last post.  I'm ok.  That's just how I deal with the emotions that depression brings.  I write to purge it all out of my system and it helps get rid or all of the negativity floating around inside of my head.

Anyways ... on to bigger and better things ...

It's mighty cold here in Pennsylvania.  There is snow on the ground and the boys both have a two hour delay to the start of their school day.  It's zero degrees outside right now with a windchill of negative twenty.  Brrr!!

Today is one of those days that I'm glad that we can all spend a lazy morning together snuggled up under blankets, in our warm pajamas.  I'm so thankful that we have a house with heat to keep my littles and I safe.

Sweet, unexpected, lazy mornings are the very best kind.

Inadequate

It's funny... I had a completely different blog post in the works for today about a completely different topic. But late last night (or rather very early this morning) as I was laying in bed and trying my very best to get some amount sleep, these words circled around in my brain on a loop until I eventually drifted off.  

Remember when I said that I was going to turn this space into more of a journal and less of a traditional blog?  Things are about to get heavy.  If that's not for you, then please don't continue. 

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It baffles me that even though God is standing right beside me, shouting the truth into my ear through the loudest megaphone, that it's the quiet whispers of the devil that I hear, whose lies creep up slowly like smoke,  turning everything they cover black.  It tells me over and over again that I'm not good enough and that I never was and that I never will be.  I freely admit that I've spent the majority of my life here, covered in darkness, trying to find my way out.  

I've been pretty open in the past with my struggles with depression and anxiety.  It's a pretty nasty disease that I fight with on a consistent basis.  It sucks, plain and simple.  At one time it even completely ruled my life.  Now I have a handle on it, mostly.  

I say mostly because I feel like I've spent the past few months in a fog, quiet and withdrawn.  And to be perfectly honest it scares the hell out of me, because I know just how slippery of a slope it is and how very easy it can be to fall head first into that pit of utter despair.  But it's that one lie that I can't seem to shake.  

The truth is, I don't have a lot of friends.  I have hundreds of acquaintances, most of whom who actually know my story, but only one or two close friends.  And that's ok, I love those good friends dearly.  I just hate that I have a hard time connecting with people.  I'm shy, awkward, and am not at all eloquent.  And until I'm completely comfortable with someone I usually keep to myself.  Unfortunately, I don't usually get the chance to become comfortable with most people because those quirks of mine don't exactly lend themselves to being included.  

I'm 29 years old and sometimes I think it hurts just as much as it did when I was 13 to be left out, just in a different way.  It's not fun seeing pictures of the wonderful baby shower thrown for a friend that no one thought to invite you to.  It hurts to hear all about how wonderful the food was at the person you thought you made a connection withs birthday dinner.  And listing to people talk about the fun girls game night that everyone but you goes to is heartbreaking.  And it's downright insulting when the only time you are included is in an effort to sell you something from this person or that person's home business.  

So I did what I do best.  I withdrew, retreated, tagged out, quit making an effort, whatever you want to call it.  I stopped finding joy in the things I used to love.  I've been nasty to my husband who has been nothing but amazing, I've stopped participating in groups that I'm involved with, I've stopped talking to people, and I've even gone as far as to stop going to church regularly.  And let me be the first to say that I know that it was not the right response.  

I have these feelings of inadequacy that I've never been able to let go of.  I think I've always had them, from the time I was little to right this very second. And sometimes I can overcome them and sometimes I allow them to dictate how I feel and see things around me.  I know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  And I know that God loves me just as I am.  But sometimes I can't fathom why that same love isn't always extended by others.  It honestly hurts my heart.

And then that one lie snowballs into a million other lies.  I tell myself that maybe I'm selfish or am acting entitled.  Or perhaps I'm just not the kind of person that people want to be around. I get self conscious.  Is it because I have nothing in common with anyone?  Is it because I'm overweight?  It is because I had my kids young?  Is it because my hair is brown?  These are all completely ridiculous notions and logically in my head  I know that this is all Satan's trickery, but I still find myself falling victim to it.

Like I said, it's a slippery slope.  And I may as well be running across a linoleum floor in socks for how fast I'm going.

I have this amazing testimony of how I use the love of God to overcome depression.  But He is still writing my story and this is a battle that I'm pretty sure I will no doubt spend the rest of my life fighting. There is a reason that I don't see and will certainly never understand as to why I am the way that I am and why I feel the way that I do.  There is a reason why I struggle with this disease.  And at every turn I'm trying my very best to use it not as a crutch but as a tool to draw closer to God.  Things will get better and eventually I'll get out of this funk that I'm in.  It's just the part between the beginning and the end that I've got to work through. 

 If you think of it, please pray for me, friends. 

Our Story // Chapter 2

It's occurred to me that I've never really posted a detailed account of my life story, of how I grew up and of how I met and fell in love with my husband. Or rather that's what this blog is, perhaps, a work in progress where I can account for all of the events that have led up to who I am today. But there are things I don't want to forget, things that I can feel slipping as life moves forward. So I'm taking the time to record the details.

 

 Chapter Two // Small Town Mind

Going to school in Pennsylvania was like nothing I had ever known before.  In Virginia there were new students joining our classes all of the time, sometimes one or more a week.  On the flip side of that coin, people moved away fairly frequently as well.  In fact each class back then had a "Welcome Ambassador" for new students, someone to befriend them and show them around the school.  I was one 3 years in a row growing up.  In small town PA though, new people didn't typically move to the area, and if they did they were just starting a family, not coming along with one like we did.  The class sizes were extremely small compared to what I was used to and the kids in my new school had known one another since Kindergarten and had formed bonds that were many years in the making.  I was the new girl and was a bit of a spectacle, something a shy girl like me found very hard. 

I had a hard time making any real friends.  The section of town that we lived in was what I'll call prominent.  It had the biggest houses, the newest cars, and the nicest neighborhoods.  And most of the kids in the school district reflected that.  This was the very first time in my life that I ever remember feeling inferior.  Things that didn't matter to me were suddenly important in other's eyes and things that I never even thought to notice were blaringly obvious now.  My clothes didn't have name brand logos on them like everyone elses did. And my parents car wasn't a make and model of luxury.  My house was tiny and my sneakers were dirty from afternoons playing outside.  In a world of trips to the mall, expensive clothing, and 5 bedroom houses, I was officially an outsider.  

I eventually made a few genuine friends and learned not to care about what I don't have and to be happy with what I do.  I learned more about myself as a person, thanks to my make do and mend attitude.  It was during this time that I fell in love with thrifting, sewing, and crafting.  I wouldn't say it was born out of necessity since my parents always supplied me with more than what I needed, but if I wanted something extra I had to figure out how to make that happen.  And I did.  

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Click here to read Our Story in order