Fighting Back: Soul

This is the first post in a series of blog posts on anxiety.  I first wrote about my struggle with anxiety here, and then introduced this series here.  As I've processed through my own anxiety, I've noticed that it often comes as a result of events in my life that feel out of control, or beliefs I have adopted through faulty thinking.  We must be incredibly intentional to fight back against anxiety.  The title of this 3 part series is Fighting Back and I'm beginning with the soul -- because it is the very essence of who we are.

"Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!" exclaims the psalmist (King David) in Psalm 139:14 (NLT version).

It is precisely for this reason  that it's going to be difficult to separate these blog posts into the three categories of body, mind, and soul.  Because we are "wonderfully complex" it is sometimes difficult to know where the physical ends and the emotional begins, or how the matters of the heart and and mind affect our souls and bodies. They are all so closely integrated, and God designed us to be that way.  So my disclaimer is this: As I write these posts, I am trying to organize them into three categories, and yet there will be overlap because we as human beings are not so easily categorized.  Another disclaimer: I have no formal training and do not claim to be an expert. Much of what I am writing about comes from books I have read or my own experiences (therefore, these are my opinions, which I am not claiming as facts).

I am choosing the word "soul" to encompass the spiritual aspect of our beings -- that part of us that connects us to God and Him to us.  Whether we believe in God or not, we all have a soul, a part of us that is different from our bodies and our emotions, a place where we contemplate the deeper aspects of ourselves, such as "What is my purpose?" and "What happens when I die?" The soul is where we wrestle with ambiguities and attempt to understand the gray areas of our lives.  In times of crisis, it's sometimes the last place we seek healing, as it might be easier to focus on more black and white solutions such as healthy eating, medication, or specific therapies.  And yet, the soul is probably the most important -- it's the starting point, the origin of how we got to where we are today.  We can treat many symptoms on the surface and end up ignoring the root: the reason, the cause, and the place where it all began.  I am defining the soul as "who we are."  (The mind will be defined as "what we think" and the body is "how we act").

Sometimes (not always), our anxiety and depression has a starting point, a fixed point where something took root and was allowed to grow.  As it grew, it became part of who we are.  Without realizing it, one day we may step back and see a gnarled mess of overgrown vines, and wonder how we ended up here. Sometimes the root began with a specific event or series of events, and other times it is a general belief or idea.

An event: Trauma can interrupt and impact a life that otherwise would have continued on a normal path.  When we think of trauma, we first think of the big ones: soldiers in combat, family violence, or sexual exploitation. There are also events on a smaller scale which can cause levels of trauma: accidents and injuries, a relative's death, a change in a family system, a betrayal, an illness, and the list goes on.  Again, as complex beings, we have no idea how we will react to trauma until it happens to us.  While one person may have no long term side effects from a car accident, another may develop PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder).  Research has shown that traumatic experiences have the ability to rewire the connections in our actual brains, causing a trickle down affect to our bodies, minds, and souls.  [More to come on this]

A belief: "I am terrible at math."  In elementary school, I actually thought I was great at math.  I was in a higher level class and also was chosen for a gifted and talented program which I participated in from 3rd through 6th grade.  In 7th grade my math teacher didn't think I was so great.  I honestly don't know what happened, but my grades started slipping, and she decided I needed to be moved out of honors math.  I adopted a belief: "I am terrible at math." From there I had several mediocre teachers and bad experiences.  Looking back now as an adult, I think as the concepts became harder, I may have needed extra time or help, and probably (maybe) could have continued in the honors class had I received it.  Instead, I believed I couldn't do it, and so I didn't.  I gave up.  This is a simplistic example of how a belief can take root and turn into "truth." What if the beliefs and outcomes become a more serious problem?  What if a child is told she is fat, worthless, ugly, or stupid by a trusted adult in her life?  What if he's neglected, ignored, or abused? A core belief takes root: " I am worthless" or "I can't trust anyone." All other beliefs grow out of the core belief: "No one will take care of me."  "No one loves me." "I'm all alone." Actions flow from thoughts and beliefs.  A child who believes she cannot trust anyone will not trust anyone. She will spend her entire life not trusting anyone - unless that belief is dismantled somehow and rebuilt into a new pattern of thinking and behaving.

                                                           ___________________________

Now here is where it gets tricky to separate mind and soul and body.  Our souls are damaged in small or large ways, causing our mind to form unhealthy thoughts and memories, which causes our body to react in ways that are both conscious and subconscious, which creates years of patterned behavior.  It's all connected, which I'll explore more in the next two posts.

Finding the root cause of an unhealthy/toxic pattern of thinking or behavior is perhaps the hardest soul work we will do.  It requires self awareness and a willingness to face the pain of the past.  I wouldn't go about it alone.  If you are realizing that a past trauma is causing the anxiety or depression in your present, it's often wise to go to a counselor that you connect with and trust to lead you through the next part of your journey. 

So what does our soul need as we fight back against the anxiety?  (Disclaimer: I am approaching this from a Christian perspective, and a core belief that there is a God of the universe who loves humanity, died for humanity, and is in the process of redeeming all of humanity.)

Our souls need to know that we are deeply loved by a God who never fails to love. 

This is such a foreign concept to an individual who has been deeply wounded by someone who was supposed to love them.  We learn about love and trust starting the minute we are born (and many researchers believe we learn trust/distrust even in the womb).  If our core belief is that we are not loved, all of our relationships reflect that belief.  If our core belief is that we are deeply loved, we have a foundation with which to work through the imperfect love of our earthly relationships.  Even the most perfect earthly relationship will fail us, because we are humans and not capable of perfect love. God is not human! That always amazes me when I stop to think about it.  As a perfect being, He loves perfectly.  He is also perfectly kind, perfectly just, perfectly merciful, perfectly faithful, perfectly patient, and perfectly good.  The Bible says that "Perfect loves casts out fear." (1 John 4:18) Why and how could this be true? Well, how could we fear if we knew that there is a zero percent chance that we will not be loved? The truth is: We are 100% loved by a perfect God. He loves us with God-love, which far exceeds the best, most "perfect" human love.

If our core belief is: I am 100% loved by a perfect God, then there are spiritual practices which help our souls to connect to this incredible love from an incredible God:

1) Read about it. We have an entire book (the Bible) devoted to the greatest love story ever told.  Start with the book of John. Since John was Jesus' best friend, he must know a few things about Jesus' love.  So sure was he of this love that John labeled himself "the disciple whom Jesus loved" (John 19:26), basing his entire identity on his relationship to Christ. Read the Bible as often as possible - every day.  If you've never read the entire story, get The Jesus Storybook Bible.  Yes, it's written for kids, but it lays out the entire story of God pursuing humans from Genesis to Revelation and connects the dots in a profound way.

2) Hear about it.  Expose yourself to truth that will affirm and confirm your relationship with God. When we are battling toxic thoughts and behaviors in ourselves, we are rooting out such negative stuff - and it must be replaced with healthy stuff.  Worship music on repeat.  Podcasts. Sermons. A deep discussion with a friend who gets it.  Even a movie (The Shack was one that I watched and cried through during a difficult, dark time in my life). Fill your mind with good stuff.

3) Practice it. There are tangible ways to practice the truth we are hearing and reading about.  Here are a few I do:

Scripture rings: I write out scriptures and prayers on index cards and put them on a binder ring.  I have mine divided out by days of the week.  Each day of the week has about ten cards that I flip through and read/pray.  In the past, if I have been struggling with a particular concept, such as confidence, I will look up the word in the concordance and write down every verse I can find, and devote an entire scripture ring to it.  I keep it in my purse or car and every time I have a spare moment, or feel a dark thought come into my mind, I start flipping through the verses.  (Remember -- fill your mind with good stuff)

 

Statements of Faith: Feelings are not facts. Just because I feel like a failure, doesn't mean I am a failure.  We have to be able to separate truth from feelings and allow the truth to inform our feelings.  Here are a few I've used:

• It's just a thought. It's not who I am. 
  

• I am not enough.  Jesus is enough. With Jesus, I am enough.
• I have a future that is filled with HOPE!
• Anger is not wrong.  But not dealing with my anger is unhealthy.
• Just because there's a possibility something may happen, does not mean it WILL happen.
• Flip the script. (for example: "She's a mean and terrible human being." to "She is probably having a bad day.")
• This sign hangs by my coffeemaker (My friend had it by her coffeemaker, and I loved it so much, she gave it to me.)

Brain Detox: I am sure I'll be quoting this book in my subsequent posts, so get used to hearing more about this!  I recently read a book which has been truly life-altering (I'm not being dramatic here).  Switch on Your Brain, by Dr. Caroline Leaf "guides you step-by-step through the process of replacing toxic thoughts with healthy ones" (from the back cover). Dr. Leaf incorporates scripture and Biblical principles yet also backs it up with the most current scientific and medical research.   I have read many books and articles about "taking our thoughts captive" (2 Corinthians 10:5), and this book and her 21 Day Brain Detox plan is the most systematic approach I've ever tried.  It actually works.  She's even created an online program that walks you through the 21 days with videos and specific steps of action.

• A link to her book: https://www.amazon.com/Switch-Your-Brain-Happiness-Thinking/dp/0801018390/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1523973349&sr=8-1
• A link to the 21 Day Brain Detox online program: https://21daybraindetox.com/  

I feel like I have barely scratched the surface with this blog post, and yet I hope it helps, even if it's in one small way. 

I started this blog post well over a month ago.  I became discouraged in the middle of writing it, as my anxiety came back full force and I couldn't seem to shake it. I had stomach aches every day, experienced disordered thinking, and woke up in the middle of the night worrying.  I was doing all the things I knew I should be doing (I will be writing about those in my other two blog posts) and yet .... it was there. Anxiety is unpredictable and sometimes beyond our control.  But that doesn't mean we accept it as normal.  We have to fight it.  God created us for more! He created us to be free. We have to keep going, keep looking for new strategies, and keep doing the things we know to do.  We're in this together - and I'm so grateful to those of you who have reached out to me and encouraged me to keep writing. If it weren't for you, this blog post probably would never have been published.

For all of us, may we continue to "fight the good fight and finish the race." (2 Timothy 4:7)

Fighting Back, part 1: Introduction

My last blog post on anxiety garnered a surprising response.  I guess I was surprised that so many of you have struggled with this, or are currently struggling.  I had no idea.  This is a subject which for some reason seems to be taboo in spiritual circles.  I'm not exactly sure why that is, but I'm guessing it's because there are certain expectations that a truly faith-filled person should not struggle with anxiety.  It was encouraging to receive texts and messages from others who have felt the same feelings, had the same thoughts, and experienced some of the same things. Giving each other a safe place to talk about our struggles, a place to be vulnerable and not be shamed, and a place to share ideas and resources is not just helpful, I believe it's necessary.  Isolation and shame are the very worst outcomes for someone struggling with anxiety or depression.  We need to be doing the exact opposite:  Throw wide the doors and welcome each other in with compassion and grace.

In that vein, I wanted to use this space to continue the discussion and share ideas, and invite you to do the same.  There are no formulas, no one-size-fits-all plans in this journey.  Each of us has a unique story, and so each of us will be drawn to different methods and avenues towards healing.  I also believe as we grow and encounter new experiences, our methods may need to change.  What worked for me last year may no longer work today.  This is a fluid process and the more we let go of expectations and embrace the ambiguity of growth, the better able we'll be to keep up with our healing process.

I've entitled this Fighting Back because to be passive is to open ourselves up to dangerous territory: listlessness, indifference, and giving up, and a tendency towards unhealthy coping mechanisms that may work for a time, but do not have the staying power for the journey.  Fighting anxiety requires intentionality, determination, and willpower.  It's a daily choice to use the tools we've collected along the way and to invite others in to encourage us and cheer us on.  And when we fail (which we will), we give ourselves grace, but get right back up and keep fighting.

I am working on three more blog posts which will address our spiritual needs (soul), our physical needs (body), and our emotional needs (mind).  I'm really excited to gather these ideas into one place and welcome any comments or suggestions from you. Please feel free to private message, text, or email me any of the tools that have worked for you - I would love to weave those in where I can (I promise I won't use your name)!

Brene Brown says, "Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light." As spiritual beings, our light comes from the source and origin of Light and our true Hope: Jesus.  "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."  John 1:3

Thank you for being brave with me.

Dismantling

I had my first panic attack in an airport. My husband and I were returning from a glorious vacation and had a few hours to kill in the Florida airport. I remember sitting in front of large panel of windows, facing the planes landing and taking off, and thinking that soon we’d be boarding one to go home. The feeling started at the top of my head: dread, panic, and fear, slowly spreading down my face, upper body, and dropping like a ball into my stomach. Instantly I felt nauseous. I doubled over in pain. I tried laying down. I tried walking around. My mind and heart were racing, as if they were in competition with each other. I couldn’t think clearly, my mind turning to irrational thoughts such as, “Can we just stay here, and not go home?” And the worst one of all, “I would be fine if the plane crashed.”

My second panic attack happened a few weeks later. I was walking down a hallway in my house, and a thought triggered a fear, and I doubled over as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I hunched over for a few seconds (which felt like an eternity), attempting to take a full breath. When I stood up my stomach felt like a hopelessly tangled ball of yarn. Heart racing, shallow breathing, stomach churning. “What is wrong with me? Why can I not get a grip?” It felt foreign and invasive, and I felt helpless. It lasted a few hours. Or days. Turning into weeks. I lost sleep. I was distracted in my daily life, unable to focus when someone was talking to me. Unable to complete simple tasks. Going through the motions. Surviving. Who is this person?

I’m usually fairly put together. Friends joke about my calendar - color coded and detailed to a fault. I like life to be like my calendar - neat and ordered and clean and predictable. I’m able to juggle many things at once. I’m good at remembering details. I make to-do lists and I check them off. I can handle stress - I was a teacher and I am a mom and am used to doing lots of things and doing them pretty well. I was good at life.

 

Until one day, I wasn’t. It was all just too much.

I have since talked to other people who describe similar experiences, albeit with some differences. Some feel it in their head, some in their shoulders or back, some in their stomach. Some people get a migraine and have to go to bed. Some people, like me, feel it in their stomach and cannot eat. Sometimes there are real life triggers that can be pointed to as a cause. Sometimes there are not. Sometimes it’s the anticipation of an event, a conversation, or an expectation. Sometimes there is no reason at all.

And I hate that. I hate that more than anything else - because if I know ahead of time, then I can prepare for it. I can create a plan. I can line up solutions. I can predict outcomes. I can manage. Ha. The joke was on me. I couldn’t control this.

One day I couldn’t even get out of bed. I lay there staring at nothing. I had zero motivation to get up and do anything. If you know me, this is so not like me. I usually spring out of bed before my alarm, ready to conquer the day. And I couldn’t. I could. Not. Do. It.

 The stomach aches, the racing heart, the fuzzy thinking: it was an outward physical representation of all that was going wrong mentally and emotionally and spiritually inside of me.

 Cue the Bible verses and songs and motivational speeches. The “5 Steps to Overcoming Anxiety” articles. The recommendations and self-help books. Been there, done that. And that is the crazy maker about anxiety. You can KNOW what to do, know the right answers, and still be overcome. You can do all the things, and still feel totally helpless.

I had my scriptures on a ring clip: “I have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love and of a sound mind.”(2 Timothy 1:7) Okay, I have been given a sound mind. So where is it? Why can’t I grab hold of it?

“Cast all your anxiety on him, for He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) How exactly does one “cast” anxiety? I know He cares, I definitely know that. But how does that help me through a panic attack?

 I had Christian songs on repeat. Songs about no longer being a slave to fear, about being in the eye of a storm and still trusting, about His hand being strong to save. Amazing words. True words. And yet...I could listen to a song, believe it with all my heart, and there would still be that pit in my stomach.

 I read the books. I read the articles. I made a plan. Exercise more. Make sure I drink enough water. Do yoga. Go on dates nights. Start seeing a counselor. I even went to my doctor and got a prescription. Check. Check. Check.

But it wasn’t enough. I was not enough. I will never be enough.

And what happened was a slow and steady dismantling of Katie. A dismantling of my carefully planned, well thought out, color coded life. An undoing of all my preconceived ideas and preformed judgments. If I couldn’t hack it, then who could?

 All those times I had watched other people struggle, and made up my mind about how I would handle it … All those times I had judged someone for the way they could or couldn’t solve a problem … All those times I prided myself for having it together …. All those times I thought I could do it better ….OUT THE WINDOW.

Because now that's me. I’m the one feeling humiliated, ashamed, crazy, out of control, weak, and helpless. I’m the one who can’t get a grip. I’m the one who tried the step-by step plan and couldn’t make it past step one. And as pride and judgment and control were being stripped away, God in His mercy, began filling in those gaps with compassion and understanding and empathy.

 I always say, “You don’t know it until you live it." I’ve lived a lot of life over the past few years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: I am not enough and I am not alone.

There are many others down in the pit. Others who have battled anxiety, or are still battling it. Others who need medication to get through the dailyness of life. Others who are afraid. Others who don’t have it all together. And it’s not so lonely in the pit, when you know there are others who are living it, who are living through it, and who say, “I get it.”

 Sometimes, the world is too much with us. (thank you William Wordsworth) The world is too much for us. And it doesn’t make us bad, or wrong, or shameful. It means we have come to the end of our  carefully crafted plans, and in so doing, we have come to the end of ourselves. And down there, in the darkness, we find light -- God’s Light of compassion, acceptance, and deep, deep love. The psalmist says,”…if I make my bed in the depths, You are there...even in the darkness I cannot hide from you.” Psalm 139:8, 12

We may feel alone, but the truth is, we are not alone.

To the young mama who is plumb worn out, exhausted from sleepless nights and toddlers’ endless tantrums … You are not alone.

To the older woman, who is caring for her elderly mother, making decisions about in-home care and hospice and things she never thought she’d have to … You are not alone.

To the college student, wrestling with new found independence mingled with a longing for the familiar, struggling with identity and faith … You are not alone.

To the middle-aged woman who found a lump, and had an MRI, and is facing an uncertain and scary future of treatment and disease … You are not alone.

 To the any aged woman or man who is facing divorce, or abortion, or estranged relationships, betrayal, or a mental illness, or chronic pain, or fill in the blank …. You are not alone.

 I still battle anxiety. I have lots of tools I know I can use and an amazing counselor and incredible friends and family who support me, but it hasn’t gone away. It might never. I guess I’m okay with that -- even though I hate it -- because it’s a reminder. A reminder that God is with me here. It’s a reminder that there are so many people battling so many things -- and the first stop in the journey is compassion. And it’s a reminder that I am not enough - I need God, and I need others, and it is exactly in my weakness that I find strength.

Broken

We exited the birthday party amidst a flurry of hugs and smiles and prolonged goodbyes, her arms overflowing and her happiness palpable.  She was chattering away, filling me in on all the details of the sleepover, when a splintering sound halted our conversation.  Turning around, I saw her crumpled on the ground, attempting to salvage the pottery piece she had just created with her friends.  Tears sprang into her eyes.  I knelt down beside her, put my arms around her.  "Oh honey..."  Words failed me.  We gathered up the shards as best we could.  Once in the car, she turned her body away from me, attempting to conceal her lingering tears.  I fumbled my way through a stilted conversation about mistakes happening, and that I think I had glue that could hold it together.  I tried to comfort her.  She tried to be comforted.

When we got home I asked her to take her belongings upstairs while I did the dishes,  promising to sit down with her and my strong glue in a few minutes.  Together we would work on piecing it back together.  "What if it never looks the same again?" she asked.  "It won't, honey.  It will never look the same. There will be cracks and lines and glue showing.  But it will still be your mug."  She turned slowly away and trudged up the stairs. I was sad for her.  She spent time with her friends to create this precious masterpiece, carefully choosing the colors, carefully painting the details.  And now it was shattered into pieces. I busied myself with the dishes as I allowed my thoughts to drift to the unfairness and the whys.

Minutes later, I heard sobbing coming from her room.  Drying my hands, I stood outside her door and asked to come in.  She was curled up in a ball, hair shielding her face.  I sat down next to her, put my hand on her back.  "Can you tell me what you're feeling?"

"Nothing."

Hmmm....this wasn't going to be easy.  She's my tough one, my big feeler but bigger stuffer.  She's the one who cries the hardest at movies, but hates to show it.  I searched my mind for the elusive key that would unlock her words.

"Sweetie, I know you're feeling big feelings right now, and that is okay! It's so good to feel.  When you feel sad, or angry, or frustrated, it's good.  And it makes you a better person to feel those things, because then you know how other people feel.  It gives you compassion, because then when other people feel big feelings, you can help them, because you know what they're feeling."

Silence.

"I know you're feeling sad.  I'm feeling sad too, because you're sad," my voice trailed.

"No, I'm stupid!  I'm so stupid!  I should have let you carry it!  You asked me if you could carry it, and I said no, and I dropped it!  I am so stupid!"

And there it was - the root of the big feelings: Shame.

Deep down, underneath the surface layers of frustration and sadness, was a core belief: I am shameful.  Shame was the source of the hiding, the pretending.  My heart sank.

"No honey.  You made a mistake.  You are not stupid.  You made a mistake."

I held my daughter as she continued to cry softly, allowing me to comfort her.  I honestly cannot remember what I said, but I think the more important thing was to allow her a safe place to grieve, to affirm that emotions are okay, and to sit with her while she worked out her grief.

The mug probably can be fixed, even if it doesn't look exactly the same.  And that is usually how we approach brokenness, isn't it?  We see broken; we need to fix it.  But people aren't easily fixed.  And sometimes, they don't need to be fixed.

What if, instead of trying to fix the brokenness all around us, we instead try to step into it and be present?  What if we wade into the sadness and the shame and the anger and the big feelings, and say, "I'm here." We may not have a polished speech prepared.  It's okay.  We may not have an immediate answer or solution.  It's okay.  We may not know what the heck to do.  It's okay.  We may be scared, frustrated, or sad ourselves.  It's okay.

Maybe we could leave the fixing to the only One who is qualified to do it.  That's why He came.  Our Rescuer, Our Redeemer, Our Healer, Our Fixer.

What we can do: We can ask questions.  We can listen.  We can give a hug.  We can say, "I understand."  We can say, "What do you need?"  We can pray.

And sometimes, I'd venture to say most times, that is enough.

Shaken

“Before adoption, I believed I was a good mom. My confidence was shaken as I was challenged to become a PhD level psychologist/therapeutic parent overnight with the addition of traumatized children to our family.” -Lisa Qualls, from the blog One Thankful Mom

I read these words the other day and it felt like releasing a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding. I have been processing them ever since. Because they are so, so true.

In a typical child with a typical upbringing in a typical home with typical parents, you see typical development. Even if there are medical issues, learning issues, mental health issues, or emotional issues -- there is a typical foundation with which to work through those issues.

Now turn that sentence around to it’s opposite, and take those children out of their culture, place them into typical family but one composed virtually of strangers -- and there is nothing typical about anything anymore.

I am a learner. I am a planner. If I embark on something new, I want to be fully prepared. Before adopting, we read books and blogs and websites, we talked to other adoptive parents, we met with therapists and specialists. And yet nothing prepared us for the journey we have been on over the past two and a half years.

I thought I was a good mom. I thought I understood kids, and even kids with challenges. I taught for three years at a school for kids with special needs -- surely that gave me insight and tools. I was a dynamic babysitter, nursery worker, and Sunday school teacher -- surely my love for kids prepared me. I was a high school small group leader for nine years -- surely that prepared me to parent teens. Heck, I had thee kids of my own, and I was a good mom to them! We are a great family - stable, secure, loving, close, fun, accepting, and with huge hearts and extra bedrooms. And I was armed with an arsenal of information to boot.

Nothing could have prepared me.

As I talk and interact with other adoptive parents with similar stories to our own, there is a common thread, and it’s this: Navigating our new lives can only be done as a crash course, and the classes are very small.

I read this on another blog, and these words also resonated with me:

“It is like going to the school of what really matters. It is a crash course in getting over pleasing other people. If embraced, this new perspective quickly leads to a far less judgmental stance toward others – we are acutely aware that we never truly know what is under the behavior of that screaming child in the grocery store or that teenager who is “acting out”. We are forced to a deeper reliance on and wrestling with God and are wise to submit to a much slower pace of life. We receive a gift of often being able to see beyond the surface into the deep places of life. It is a portal to true joy.” --from the blog In Pursuit of a Tool Box

I am processing a lot right now, and I know I want to begin writing again. I am praying that God gives me wisdom to know how to do that in a way that respects all those involved in our story, while also attempting to be authentic. If you know me, you know I don’t do fake.

Right now I am searching for the ‘portal to joy’, and finding it elusive. I am wrestling with God over the details of our story. It’s especially difficult wading through dark and heavy in this season, when everything is shiny and bright. But this I do know: God is here.

I read these words yesterday for an Advent series I’m doing, and it brought some measure of comfort:
“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.” Revelation 1:8 ESV

There are times I long for what was, and other times I long for what will be. I feel caught in the middle right now. But God is. God is here, in my present, right in the middle of my mess. He always was. He always will be.

When Accusations Fly

The other day I was driving with one of my children to an appointment, and from out of nowhere, an accusation flew into the space between us.  It felt like a slap, an indictment on my character and my heart.  Not to mention, it was simply not true.  Within moments I felt myself escalating from calm and happy to enraged.  How dare you accuse me of this?  Do you even know me?  I felt the emotion simmering in my belly, moving toward boiling.  My stomach turned to knots, my heart sped up, my body stiffened, my jaw set, and my mind went on high alert.  Suddenly I found myself in fight mode.  I entered the ring with my angry child and we both felt totally justified to be there.  We were now on level ground -- both upset, frustrated, defensive, and ready to argue.  Sadly, this never ends well. It didn't that day.

I have done a lot of reflecting and processing since that time, trying to understand what happened, and how I can do better the next time (there's always a next time, right around the corner).  Conflict is inevitable.  As much as we all hate it, it's impossible to have a relationship and not experience conflict at some point.  And in a family, especially a large family, we can expect to multiply that possibility a few times over.  This isn't something to run away from, but it's also not something to fight.  I think what it comes down to is control.

This is different than being controlling.   A controlling person attempts to get someone else to do what they think is right, or think they way they think.  It usually involves tactics such as demanding, manipulating, ignoring, yelling, cajoling, nagging, accusing, blaming, and pouting.  These are all immature and unhealthy things we resort to when faced with conflict.  And they never work.  Our attempts to control usually end up achieving the opposite - we quickly spiral out of control, wreaking havoc and speaking and acting in ways we never intended.

The key is maintaining or regaining control of myself before the situation spirals.  This is so hard when emotions start boiling!  But if I truly care about my relationships, and know that conflict will happen, then this is important enough to try.  I know I cannot change (control) anyone else -- but I can change me.

I've come up with three reminders, based on a Bible passage I read recently, to help me navigate the beginning, middle, and end of conflict.

Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of malice.  Instead, be kind to each other, compassionate, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ forgave you.  Ephesians 4:31-32

1.  Be kind. This seems like a difficult thing to start with when you are boiling mad.  But think about it along these lines: Don't retaliate. Don't fight fire with fire. Be the first one to stay kind.  When the accusations fly and I start feeling all the emotions, this is my cue to pause, take a deep breath (or many) and be quiet.  Slow down, don't engage (yet), and take a minute to think.  When I'm feeling more in control, I can say something like, "I'm going to take a minute to calm down, because I feel myself getting angry, and I want to stay calm." And then take that time.  Not too long -- because that will frustrate the other person, but enough time that you're not retaliating and retorting out of anger.  "A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." Proverbs 15:1

 2.  Be compassionate.  If the first one is hard, this one is nearly impossible.  But it is doable. If I'm committed to this relationship, then the ultimate goal is connection and healing.  As much as I want to defend myself and argue my case in those first moments, what I need to do is try to understand.  If I continue in a state of calm, instead of getting defensive, I'm able to be curious instead of combative. I can say, "I wonder why that makes you feel worried when I ask you about that."  or  "I wonder why it bothers you to have shoes that are old."  (Yes, this was a real thing in our house, and a huge source of conflict.)  Be honest, be open, be curious.  Ask, don't tell, them how to feel.  As we move through the conversation, and as I can stay calm, usually the anger diffuses somewhat and we are able to get to some sort of understanding.  I say usually, but not always.  Sometimes there's no understanding, and that other person is not able to connect to what they are feeling.  But I can still make guesses, try to understand, and affirm them as they try to make sense of their emotions. If I feel that the other person is able to receive it and the situation is calm, this is the time to explain my heart, to express my intentions, and frame my perspective.  It's really important that I do this in an effort to bring healing and growth, not for the purpose of proving myself.

3.  Forgive.  This is the final step, and the path towards our own healing.  When words are spent, it's time to mend and move on.  Even if the other person isn't ready to admit any wrong, I can say something like, "The way you treated me was hurtful, but I want to forgive you, because you are important to me."  I almost always  have something I need to apologize for too: "I'm sorry that my words/ actions made you feel worried. That was not my intention.  I'm on your side."  And then I need to truly release it, and not store up any bitterness in my own heart.  I can forgive, because I know that I have been forgiven too.

In a perfect world, we fly through numbers 1, 2, and 3, and both go on our merry way.  But we all know emotions are unpredictable, and even with the best of intentions, things can go awry.  So we leave room for mistakes, and we expect to do this imperfectly.  But at least we try.  And we practice.  Each time, we grow a little bit, and our capacity enlarges, and we stay a little calmer than we did the time before. And even if we are the only one changing, it's a win. 

Climbing Out of the Trench

In April we celebrated one year since Samri and Abel joined our family.  We look back at this past year and can't believe how fast it's gone.  We've witnessed so much growth in all of us.  We've adjusted to so many new things: new sports, new schedules, new ideas,new personalities, new foods, new cultures, new parenting strategies, and new relationships.  We've rejoiced over bonds being formed and explosions of learning. We've had so much fun learning about Ethiopian culture and have mastered the art of cooking a darn good shiro.  We've laughed our way through some misunderstandings due to language barriers.  Our family has been a family and all that comes with that - vacations, inside jokes, family game nights, cheering for each other at sporting events, getting a puppy, and so much more.  I look back and am proud of us.

April 23, 2015 - First day in America

April 23, 2016 - Celebrating one year at the Ethiopian restaurant

But I also look back and think, "How did we survive that year?"  That was one of my hardest years of life by far.  In many ways, it was a year of survival mode.  Survival mode = doing the bare minimum of what needs to be done just to make it through one more day.

Although we prepared and prayed and read books and took classes and talked to many, many adoptive parents, none of us were prepared for that first year, especially me. I thought I was prepared for two teens who would be grieving all that they'd lost, but I didn't know that it would spill over into every single area of their lives, and by default, into the life of our family. I read the books and knew that when attachment is interrupted in the early years, it impacts trust and bonding for the rest of life.  I had learned a lot about trauma and how it affects development in a child, and interrupts learning and development.  I knew that every adoption involves trauma, and sometimes trauma trumps forming trust in the closest relationships.  I thought I knew, and I thought I was strong enough to love them through it.  But when it happened in our house, day after day, over and over, the rejection stung. The burden of grief was crippling. And I didn't know that our love might not be enough.    I had no idea how hard it would be, that every night I'd fall into bed emotionally and physically drained, and think, "Oh my gosh, how am I going to get up and do this again tomorrow?" I was in survival mode.

My mental picture of survival mode is someone who has fallen into a deep trench.  They're stuck down there, without any hope.  They are literally going to die without intervention.  All they can think about is getting out.  All they can manage is living one more day. They aren't thinking about anyone else but themselves.  It is a lonely, scary place to be.

Most children from hard places live in this trench.  Fear rules every interaction.  Self-protection is necessary for survival. There is little room for compassion, forgiveness, patience, gentleness, joy, and many times, LOVE, when you are in survival mode.  All you care about is living one more day.  Understanding this has given me greater compassion for my children, and all children who have come from a hard place.  I continually pray that God will fill my heart with understanding and compassion.

I also realized the other day that I hate living in survival mode.  Functioning in survival mode makes you a survivor by definition, but it's not a healthy place to be.  I don't want to be the one in the trench, grasping for one more day.  I want to climb out and be the one at the top, offering a hand to  help someone else out  (most of all, my children).  One of the ways I can do this is by taking care of myself so that I don't fall back into the trench. This is called practicing self-care.

Self-care is a huge buzzword in adoption circles, with good reason.  Self-care involves finding those things that fill you up so that you can pour yourself back out.  This has become the number one way for me to climb out of the trench of survival mode.  These are the things that give me energy, make me happy, and help me cope. Here are some of the ways I practice self-care:

• Setting my alarm for fifty minutes before my children get up.  This gives me time to pour a cup of coffee and sit in the quiet with my Bible and a journal.  Spending time with Jesus every day is not a luxury for me; it's a necessity.  It sets me up for the rest of the day and helps me focus my heart and my mind.
• Journaling.  I am a writer; it's how I process my constant menagerie of thoughts.  As I write in my journal I'm able to sift through the craziness and figure out what I'm thinking and feeling.
• Time alone with my husband.  He's my best (guy) friend and he's going to be here long after the kids have moved out.  It's really important to us to keep our relationship strong and grow together.  Many nights after the kids are settled into their own activities (teens don't go to bed early -- so we had to find creative ways to find alone time), we will sit on the couch or outside, have a glass of wine, and debrief with each other.  We also try to find one day a month to go out alone, and try to go away once or twice a year together.
  

  

  
  

• Coffee.  Oh, did I already mention that?  Two cups every morning, and sometimes I'll make myself an iced coffee in the afternoon as an extra treat.
• Time with girlfriends.  As my life has gotten [way] busier, I've had to be very intentional about this one.  I have a group of girls I meet with once a month for dinner, and then I try to sprinkle in some coffee or lunch dates throughout the month in order to catch up with other friends.  There are also a few adoptive mama friends who have been there/done that and they are an invaluable encouragement to me as well.
• Family time.  (Can you hear the groaning coming from my teens -ha!)  I'm a quality time girl, and one thing that fills my love tank is having my whole family together and engaged in some fun activity.  Again, if we're not intentional, this doesn't happen.  There's usually a lot of complaining from certain people beforehand, and it's very challenging to find activities to entertain 7 through 16 year olds, but we usually manage to have fun.  Some fun things we do: hike, go to amusement parks, play Bingo or spoons or charades, have family movie nights, go  to museums and aquariums and zoos, cook Ethiopian or other themed dinners, swim, and visit new places.
  
   
  
  

  

  
  

• Sparkling water.  I discovered this a few years ago.  It makes me happy.  So I drink one a day, either grapefruit or lemon-lime.
• Cheez-its. Again, they make me happy.  Especially the "extra toasty" ones.
• Cooking.  I love to experiment and try new foods and new recipes.  One thing that's been challenging with a big family is finding foods that everyone will eat and that won't blow our food budget.  Usually I cook super simple meals in order to appease everyone, but once in awhile I make something more adventurous and provide chicken nuggets and mac and cheese for the picky ones.
• Sunshine.  This past winter and spring were brutal.  Being stuck inside makes me really grumpy.  Even if it's cold I try to get out and walk for a little while.
• Exercise.  This one I do because it's good for me, not because I particularly enjoy it. When I was in survival mode, I did not exercise.  It was one more hard thing to add to my hard to-do list.  So I let it slide.  But now that I'm emerging from my trench I'm making it a priority.
• Saying Yes and being silly.  Sometimes I take life too seriously  and worry too much about dirt and schedules and all that boring stuff.  I need to remind myself to just say yes to some of the crazy stuff my kids want to do, and  let myself dance and laugh and sing and get dirty and squeeze the joy out of every one of these moments.
  
  
  
  
  
  

I'm sure I'll fall back into the survival mode trench, but I do feel like I'm better prepared for it this go around, and know more about myself and how to start the climb back out.

Are you in survival mode right now?  Try making a list of what makes you happy, what gives you energy, and what helps you cope (or stay healthy).  Write it out and figure out how to work it into your days and weeks.  And let me know what yours are!  Whether you're in the trench, on your way out, or lending a hand from the top, we're all figuring this out together.