Category: depression

Faithfully…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

It is absolutely acceptable for the Journey song to be running through your mind right now.

Seriously, I get it. It’s a catchy tune and totally applicable. (well, minus the rockstar/long distance relationship stuff.)

Hello, 2019! I can’t even believe it, while also, I 100% can. On one hand, what they say is so true- the older we get, time just goes by so quickly. I understand the science of it, and why that is true. On the other hand though, I feel like the start of 2018 was a lifetime ago. Life… It’s a funny thing.

If you’re around on instagram then you probably saw that my Word of the Year is Faith. The response to this was cautiously supportive. I got a  lot of direct messages that questioned if I have lost my way with Jesus, while others hesitantly asked if I was going to become all churchy in everything I shared… The answer to both us a resounding NO. Doing great with Jesus, thanks for asking, and I can’t imagine (honestly) that much would change regarding what I share anywhere online. (except for the continued goal of being more attentive to this website)

Here’s the thing…

Choosing a word is a very personal process. I’ve shared briefly about the very personal (and often excruciating) chapters, in my life journey, and how they pertain to my yearly words. With each and every word, my personal faith and walk with God has always been affected. (The process us all-encompassing, I don’t think there is an area of my life that has not been affected.) The same goes for this year… While my faith will undoubtedly have a large role in this particular chapter, my word is FAITH, not ‘my faith’.

Faith is the opposite of doubt, the opposite of fear. Faith is synonymous with trust.  Faith is so many, many, many things. Faith is the direction that my life is going, and the area which I need to work on. Faith pertains to my relationships, my health, my mental/emotional clarity, my writing, my finances, my goals, my passions/projects, my work and of course Jesus.

I have a novel of personal goals to work on throughout the year, as I do every year. A handful of these are:

  • finish writing my book.
  • submit a book proposal.
  • take in more sunrises.
  • take the intentional time to cook more and get back to paying attention to what goes into my body.
  • celebrate my 25th wedding anniversary.
  • see some really great concerts/shows.
  • reacquaint myself with learning.
  • embrace (more fervently) sacred activities such as practice, fitness, conversation, prayer, reading, tea drinking and skin care.
  • free creativity.
  • read more/watch less.

By now it is possible that the Journey song has faded and new thoughts have crowded your mind, which is perfect timing because a modestly busy day looms. I look forward to traveling this chapter of life along side of you, and hearing where your journey is taking you…

Dog Days {of Summer…}

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay5 Comments

I’ve talked about it here before, but two years ago this month I unexpectedly lost my beloved life companion Paisley. It was a fast, tragic and deeply severing loss. About eight months later I opened my heart up to love an amazingly tiny little blue-tick beagle I lovingly named Knightley and when he died just three months later…

Honestly, even looking back, fourteen months later, I am not sure how I did it. I love the ones I truly love so, so deeply, and dogs are among the deepest… Even though I had only known my sweet Knightley for such a short time, those were a very dependent few months as his health had not always been the best. He needed me so much and he loved me even more. (I hope you never have to put a puppy down, it is a terrible that exceeds so many others…)

BUT… Nearly twelve months ago my husband brought this little nugget home:

And I’ll be honest… I was not ready. She was this ball of love and energy and cuteness and I just did not want her.

Not long after little Miss Elenor became a part of the clan, my husband went on a super long business trip and I had no choice but to spend a lot of quality time with her.

I wanted to resent her.

I wanted to be so annoyed at her high puppy demands and needs, and I was.

But also, I melted… I knew that it was easier not to love her because someday she’d be leaving too, and my heart just maybe couldn’t take anymore sadness.

But then I would laugh at her, because this girl’s personality is LARGE, and I finally caved because I admitted that my heart would be so much better off to love and embrace her…

 

 

I am so thankful for the life, the love, the indescribably happiness and connection that each one of my sweet little fur loves have brought to my life… Through them I have learned TO love outside of myself, to move past loss and heartache and love again. I have learned to laugh when I still feel shattered, and to take time to settle down and snuggle when I really need it, (or they do) and I am so thankful…

Nina Dobrev stars as “Elizabeth” in director Ken Marino’s DOG DAYS, a LD Entertainment release. Credit : Jacob Yakob / LD Entertainment
Vanessa Hudgens stars as “Tara” in Ken Marino’s DOG DAYS, a LD Entertainment release. Credit : Jacob Yakob / LD Entertainment

DOG DAYS is a hilarious and heartfelt ensemble comedy that follows the lives of multiple dog owners and their beloved fluffy pals.  When these human and canine’s paths start to intertwine, their lives begin changing in ways they never expected.  This is a sweet film about the joy our furry friends bring into our lives and what they can teach us about treating people with kindness and compassion.  DOG DAYS releases in theaters in August 8.

I would love to hear about any dogs in your life, that you’ve loved! You could win a gift card to show them (or yourself) a little love!

Letting Go, a lament…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay8 Comments

This year of letting go has been brutal.

I am left raw and bleeding, stripped away layers of love, of life, of skin and  laid ready for something new. The new is hard, terrifying… I love the old, the old like you.

When I knew, to my core, that this year would be the one for letting go, I feared the most that the end result would be you. I feared this down deep to my soul, but that intuitive certainty seemed to whisper this truth.

Here, in the almost middle of the year-long-journey, I have already released my grip on so much.

So many habits, a friendship, crutches and dark things long gone now…

The thought of you too, as it grows clearer and clearer, makes me want to take back the whole plan.

I can’t do this.

I can not let you go…

And yet, as I loosen my grip a little, I realize I am the only one holding on anyway.

Just me.

It is just my hand there, fingers clinging to your loose one.

You let go a long time ago, but then I wonder- scared to ask, had you ever held on at all?

To let go of the love means also letting go of the lies, which should seem like a good thing, shouldn’t it?

It does not.

The losing you part has never been a parcel of my bargain, and yet, it seems this is what it comes to anyhow.

How?

I truly don’t know.

My chest is so tight from the fight to breathe, I want to kick and scream, to conquer your demons for you so that you can learn to love me again. Assuming, of course, you ever did. I used to believe it, but beneath the crafty way in which you seem, I am beginning to doubt that too.

I know, I can’t do that… I won’t even try. They are your demons to release or draw nearer, and they are what you’ve chosen. I am not.

I am not.

I will repeat the words until my insides cease throbbing.

I will stop allowing patterns to blanket me, which have only slowly ripped me apart.

You are yours now, you never claimed me.

In the deepest way possible, I am gone.

Entombed within this landscape I have woven- painting it beautiful so that you had somewhere safe and whole to belong- I cannot think about what comes next. Whatever it is, I know that the course of us changes forever, again.

Forever, always.

Words meant for something spectacularly earth shattering, in the best ways- not like this.

I did not wish this, I did not want it.

I do not want it.

But you do not want me, so why hold on, anymore?

Good-bye being lied to,

Good-bye being lied about… (This will still happen, of course, you seem to know no other way of making it through a day, but perhaps this will finally not affect me like it always has before.)

Good-bye disrespect,

Good-bye raised-fist-shattered moments and brutal words, spread like meat hooks, within the crevices of my mind.

Perhaps I’ll make it to the clouds, finally able to exhale…

Maybe instead I will struggle again, day in and out, never catching a break.

Either path it is, I guess is better than naked and lonely, splattered there on the ground.

I’ll show you my brave…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay5 Comments

www.rainydayinmay.com

Brave to you will likely look very different then it does to me…

I was recently challenged to consider the bravest thing I have done. I thought, instead, of all of the courage and bravery I have seen in the people I know and love. I have friends who have literally chased down muggers/assailants. I have law enforcement friends. I have inner-city-teacher friends. I know several people who travel the world, adventuring into unknown and remote locations… (I recently read a story about an Anaconda, in the Amazon, that stalked someone in the water. It STALKED them. Snakes are in the wild, unknown and remote locations. This is a problem for me.)

My sister Joy lives in a beautiful home in south-eastern New Mexico. (she also has snakes who stalk and intrude on her life) My son is a soldier, as are so many friends. I know a beautiful soul who is a surrogate. The list goes on and on. I see bravery demonstrated so regularly and, when I look at myself, I feel like there is no comparison.

And therein lies the issue. There IS no comparison. My brave won’t look like yours. While it may have been brave for me to fight for my marriage and stand by my husband after infidelity and betrayal, it may be brave for another woman to walk away from a similar situation… And that is the thing about courage- no one else gets to decide it. A soldier, in and of itself, does not make them brave. A soldier who is willing to protect us and fight for what is right, even if it costs him his life- THAT is the brave part. Courage and selflessness in the face of danger is their brave. We can define ourselves a thousand ways, but brave will never be located in the title.

My brave can be found in my pursuit of motherhood long after I lost my uterus. I was shattered, but did not give up.

My brave can be seen within the moves I’ve made, the jobs I’ve taken.

My brave is there, beyond my comfort zone. In the once-awkward situations, the stranger-conversations, the elements of life just beyond my natural limit. I have grown to push myself there, into that place. Sometimes it is downright nauseating.

My brave is rooted deep, in my writing. To be authentic, raw and displayed does not come naturally, but it is the only way that it feels right.

My brave may have been born the day that I realized it was up to me to stop the patterns of sexual abuse that were happening within my childhood. There was no shame, only a concrete knowledge that the more  people I told, the less likely it was to happen again.

I told everyone.

It never happened again.

Perhaps the most ironic part of each one of those things though, is that they never felt brave. They often felt woven with elements of worry, anxiety and more than a healthy sprinkling of fear. Second guessing was my second nature during the seasons that, upon reflection, reveal themselves as brave. Bravery often makes me feel like I need to throw up, pass out, curl up in my bed and hide… The list goes on and on, but never have I though Woah! Now that, Misty, that was one mighty fine act of bravery! And it’s pretty unfair for me to hold myself to another soul’s standard of bravery before I’m willing to label it is as such.

Maybe you scale rocky mountainside’s for fun, eat nails for breakfast and only date psycho clowns- if so, my list probably seems pretty mild to you. (I’d also like to point out that two of those three things aren’t brave, they are reckless and that’s not actually always a fine line. Sometimes it is a gigantic 8-lane interstate.)

I don’t know when I’m brave, always.

I am pretty sure I could sit here and list out the ten-thousand ways I have felt and acted the opposite, just this month.

I’m working on accepting my brave for what it is. I’m learning I don’t need my neighbor, brother, husband or friend to call it brave, for it to be. Most importantly though, I know to my core that I need the brave list to be growing longer, by the day, while the other list grows smaller and smaller…

So that’s my plan.

(Minus any and all snakes, anyway.)

What has your brave looked like?

 

The one with the Do’s and Do Not’s…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

I used to wake up, before the sun, every morning. I would make breakfast for my husband and get him out the door. I would write until it was time to wake my youngest. Before any of those things happened, I had made my bed, gone through my diligent face care routine and dressed in real (non-pajama) clothes. She had a home cooked breakfast, every morning, and then we homeschooled.

I was not a coffee drinker.

I managed to write an entire novel this way, make a decent income as a blogger and worked as both a freelance film critic and consultant for Random House. At some point, in 2010, I decided I needed more on my plate, so I turned my passionate hobby of photography into a small business.

Allow me to pause here, for just a minute, to advise you against taking something you creatively love and making it a business. This does seem to work out for some, but for so many of us it only leads to disaster… My DSLR is hardly ever on these days, and after two years of taking orders from people who did not care what my focus or vision was, I closed the doors on that endeavor. There was also the fact that I was tired, my writing was suffering and I was joining the masses as an exhausted/uninspired blogger…

It will probably always come back to this blog.

It’s not surprising that when one pulls away from consistent blogging, allowing months to pass between half-hearted attempts at posts, their audience gravitates elsewhere. Social media and the miracle of micro-blogging was not a thing yet. Somehow I kept this little space of the internet there, at bay, for the someday to come. The someday when I would feel inspired and suddenly once again share everything through the lens of an observer.

The thing is, that day will never come.

Just like sitting on three completed novels, a hundred personal essays and poetry pieces does not a published author make. While I know that several of those projects are nowhere near publishable, it annoys me to wake up at 42 and wonder what I was thinking? I kept my life at bay, waiting for that day when I’d be an agent represented, published author. How I would ever get from point A to G without accomplishing B, C, D, E, & F, I never seemed to consider. It would just happen, wouldn’t it? No. “If you write it, they will read it…” “If it’s meant to be, it will be…” *Insert other stupid nonsense, we put our faith in because we need something to believe in and that might be less vulnerable than actually going after it, here…*

When my youngest left the nest, I knew the season of pursuit was upon me. I knew that the running list of things I used to do, would be mine again-

  • I would blog.
  • I would find an agent.
  • I would publish my book.
  • I would begin a podcast.
  • I would have this amazing army of a support system around me.
  • I would master time management, beginning with a sacred morning quiet time, which would fill my soul with infinite peace…
  • I would read so many books.

The good news is that I did manage to start a podcast, and I really love the experience. It has been like nothing I ever could have imagined, in my wildest dreams. The truth is though, the podcast wasn’t ever meant to be the focus or the most important part. (Someone asked me the other day how I felt podcasting and writing went hand in hand. I couldn’t answer. The truth is, they don’t. Both support my heart, my vision/what I believe is my purpose, but that is the only real connection.)

The rest though, minus point five, is on me. My time management is far from mastered. No longer having kids at home, it is beyond me how I can not manage to find time to do these things. How many times did I say:

When school is out for summer I will…

When Gen graduates I will…

After we move, I will…

Just let me get through the holidays and then I will… 

Because, in some dysfunctional way I believed time would magically appear, but it doesn’t. Time to write, time to sit quietly to connect/pray/reflect, time to work out, time to… IT DOES NOT *POOF* into existence. We adapt and fill those spaces once filled by other things, with new things. Because the habits didn’t already exist, they don’t fall in line.

I have felt so much insurmountable disappointment in all of this. I half heartedly throw a post up and only a couple dozen people may read it. Defeat. I take part in a few linkups in an effort to connect with readers and grow an audience (again), but see little to no traffic increase. Defeat. I start the year off with a simple, lovely little devotional and open it yesterday morning to see five weeks have passed since my last check in with that sweet little book. Defeat. I catch a glimpse of my TBR pile. DEFEAT…

And, to be honest, I find myself incredibly hurt and disappointed by the lack of support in the people I love more than life itself. Which, is ok. It is ok to be hurt when it seems like others should care. HOWEVER, out of an entire list of things bearing my frustration and disappointment, that is the one point I cannot do anything about. Instead of allowing that to debilitate me further, I need to just get up, dust myself off and DO ALL OF THE THINGS. Period.

Instead, I stay stuck, and we all know that defeat and disappointment feel terrible.

I have lived silently within the dimension of my growing frustration at these things. With each passing day, I have felt worse, but did little to change a thing. Then I became a part of a conversation with others. Other women, women I respect and admire, who are living an almost identical chapter. What?!?!?! Something magical happened though, when this conversation began…

I was able to start addressing these things, one little bit at a time. I am still chipping away and maybe that will sum up the next ten years of my life. That’s ok too. I’ll get there and it WILL be worth it.

This early Wednesday morning I do not have time management mastered, but I am managing to use my time better. I am realizing my mistakes within the dream world of overwhelm.

I am doing something, and so at least there is that.