Category: depression

Restorative?

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay6 Comments

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On Fridays, Kate issues a simple writing prompt into the vast internet. Those of us who wish, write free flow style, for five minutes and then we link up to share, support and encourage others. It’s pretty great. If you haven’t read theirs, you should… This week’s writing prompt is: RESTORE

~

This is, perhaps a letter. A gentle, pleading note to the core of me- my soul… to the world around my spirit which needs to loosen its grip (or at least handle me more kindly)… A plea maybe, most of all, to the God who designed, orchestrates and holds it all within the palms of His hands…

Restore within me an eye for the goodness surrounding me, that I might see the specks of its glitter sparkle amidst the settling dust and ash.

It is there.

It has to be.

I know it is…

Or do I simply believe it? And are they the same? I am wondering.

No, I am wandering…

I am lost.

Nearly three years of uncertainty and sadness pull me beneath that space where water meets air. Over again I kick to the surface, inhaling sharply before I am dragged back down again. Feet slamming into the murky floor of a depth rising as the seconds pass. The pressure builds, my strength wanes. I can’t imagine having the ability to kick much more, yet off I go.

How many times has it been now?

Even more draining is the wondering how many times more.

Restore within me the ability to need nothing new. Nothing else from anyone, because once I lived in that place and though the not needing felt invigorating and free- the living it weighed a bit heavy and cold. As I have allowed myself to grow more see through, I’ve found my needs appear as well. When your transparency becomes you, wounds often happen easier.

Needs forever unmet have a way of producing in me the feelings of never having been met-

never having been seen.

never having been.

~

Well… There were my five minutes. A little dark today, I’d say. The brain goes where it goes…

I actually adore Fridays and put out a weekly email spotlighting the things I loved the most, within the week. I share personally, in a way more appropriate for the intimacy of an email- and though it’s authentic, it is much less dark! I’d love to connect with you, too!

Wednesday ‘podging…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay9 Comments

From this Side of the Pond

Once again, my midweek has me teaming up with some super cool peeps over at From this Side of the Pond!

1.Describe your 30’s in one sentence. The decade filled with wall-to-wall unpredictability and change.

2. Is it harder for you to exercise or eat healthy? Exercise! I have a chronic illness which makes it tough. One of those catch-22 things where I’d feel better and flare less if I exercised regularly, BUT it is often so incredibly painful to work out.

3. June 7th is National VCR Day. Huh? Anyway this reminded me of something I saw on Facebook listing household items we no longer have and the VCR was on it. I couldn’t put my hands on that list, but found another list here of 21 items we all had ten years ago, but which are now obsolete-

bookshelves (WHAT!!???), drip coffee makers, alarm clocks, file cabinets, desktop computers, printers, printed phone books, answering machines, fax machines, paper shredders, a Rolodex, CD racks, CD burners, china cabinets, home phones, entertainment consoles, DVD players, calculators, takeout menus, incandescent light bulbs, and cable TV

Your thoughts? How many on the list do you still have? Still use? Some of these are ridiculous! We still use bookshelves (of course!), a drip coffee maker (Cuisinart, it’s the BEST! We sold the Keurig to buy it!), printer, have a DVD player, but can’t remember how to use it, (it’s been ages) and currently have cable tv but are going to cancel it because we have Apple tv and don’t really need cable!

4. What’s something you see disappearing in the next ten years? Cable tv. (CANNOT wait for Streaming packages!)

5. How did you celebrate your birthday this past year? Is that typical? I didn’t do anything actually. It was a pretty sad, unacknowledged day. Sad day, is sadly normal. My birthday is a major struggle for me… But usually we at least DO something…

6. Insert your own random thought here.

Kate Spade was really a trail blazer not just for the women’s movement, but in the corporate and designer industry. I love that her’s was a brand she and her husband built together… She created something which most women deemed the very first it bag, and was among the first designers to infuse personality and class together seamlessly. Her bold creativity inspired women in confidence and she paved the way for women to embrace elements of their power and femininity in ways that weren’t “normal”.  This inspiring woman tragically took her life yesterday and it is devastating, not because she was famous, but because she was human and hurting. Additionally sad is that the entire internet failed to acknowledge her humanity and seemed to only want the spotlight to shine on all of the possessions they have bearing her name- items from a company she worked very hard to distance herself from, over the past 12 years. I obviously didn’t know Kate, but it is disheartening to see her so “mourned” with so many “tributes” that, at the end of the day, had nothing to do with her. I’ll never be a Kate Spade, but I do hope that whoever mourns my someday passing will see me in there somewhere.

Dark, sure- but honest…

Return…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay16 Comments

www.rainydayinmay.com

Good Friday morning!

I am once again joining up with Kate and the Five Minute Friday crew. In case you’re new, the way it works is that we get a word, set a time for five minutes and see what happens…

So, here we go!

~

So many people feel that being a writer is another form of being a dreamer…

That it isn’t a real job. As a writer I have come to the conclusion that maybe they are right. My neighbor Leo cannot walk in to a hospital and just be a surgeon. My friend Bree cannot walk into a tax center and simply be a CPA. Those are jobs that they would train for and educate in, to become certified. Let’s consider a painter… They paint because they love it, it is something that courses richly through their veins and they know that they are their best selves when they are doing this thing they feel they were created to do. That is the heart, the soul and sometimes the curse of being an artist. It isn’t a career, it is a lifeblood all its own. There are jobs in the writing field, but being a writer in and of itself is not a job.

I’ve been soul-searching a lot lately, about writing… About career paths merging with dreams and where I am to be found in the midst of such things. Whenever stress and inner turmoil bubble forth, my anxiety will pulse inside and often that familiar sense of panic swells to the surface. It is all rather timely since my mantra for this year is Let Go. (coincidence? Doubtful)

Let go, Misty, of the scarcity mentality. Let go of the fears and the questions, and insecurities about your path/purpose.
 
For me, being a writer is not at all like being a dreamer, but my writing does involve dreaming bold. And sometimes i search frantically for something to ease the rising inner tension before my soul spills all over the place, and this moment is when the clarity of it reveals itself.

I don’t have to do it all at once. I can’t. I shouldn’t. I don’t have to know how this tale unfolds, I just have to live it with each click/clack of the keys, because that is when I know I am my best. When it comes time for a break, a breather, a boundaried-space for a step back and fresh start, I simply slide my right pinky over and click it-

Return.

~

Are you joining the Collective book club? You SHOULD! Check it out!

What Spring has brought with her…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

www.rainydayinmay.com

When I signed up to Let Go, this year, I really had no idea of the things that would be asked of me.

I would say that, while this is probably a truth that has applied to all of my WOtY’s, this year has all at once stung incredibly and also been so restorative. Now, it is June. We are at a half way point and I find myself reflecting on this journey. Here in Michigan we’ve had about eleven seconds of true spring, following the twenty years of winter… (While you may be learning that I can sometimes exaggerate, this is something I’ve known for a good, long while.)

Spring is nearly out the door, making way for Summer, and I am reflecting along with my favorite Emily, about what Spring has shown me…

The vision/dream my heart has held for so eternally long really can be mine… I’ve read all of the little memes about believing in yourself, I’ve read the books and seen the lectures. But then, at some point this Spring I finally followed through with a project that was two years, (and let’s be honest, a lifetime) in the making and opportunities/possibilities just spilled forth. It took those things happening to make me realize this vision wasn’t a fantasy, it was a grand design. It may look differently than the ways I’ve dreamed, but that just means it will be better and more suited to my truth.

The internet has made me a terrible book reader… Goodness, have I ever written more truer words? It is terrible! I’m trying to change it, honest! I have sat the book I’m attempting to read, on my table every day this week. I naively tell myself that will remind me. I pencil READ onto my to-do list. Instead I spend all of the moments I have on the computer. Yes, it is work, and necessary, but where are the boundaries? Where is the balance? (And why does the internet have so much access to so many great things? (And do I really need to have/learn/do all of the great things right now? NO. And yet…))

People that are loved and trusted can tear us down in their climb up to finding their own worth. Not all of them, but the love and trust doesn’t make them exempt… this is probably the most sad part about my let go journey. Relational losses are always difficult and at first I wasn’t sure it would be a full-fledged loss. I could not imagine it and certainly did not want it. I’d been too close to the situation to see the very toxic negativity that was continually being directed at me. I sat back and trusted the journey that God had me on and daily there was negative opposition that tore me down a little more.Others saw it, my breaking and the reasons, but I couldn’t. Afterword, the shock of the loss seemed incomprehensible, but the sudden weightlessness of the journey felt so free. This is what they call bittersweet, I suppose. I harbor no resentments, as I said very early that whoever is supposed to be here, will be & likewise, whoever is not will not be. There is peace in seeing that I truly did surrender myself to trusting that and in the lesson learned valuable things.

I don’t love rewatching movies as much as I used to… Oh, I really used to. There are a handful of movies that I have watched hundreds and hundreds of times. Now, in this season, I am seeing that I’m growing more selective about watching much, and the concept of rewatching sounds beyond underwhelming.

Stress really does hurt… I have been watching my husband’s stress levels rise to such levels that not only is he no longer able to do that thing which he loves the most (run), but his body is broken down to such a point that he is constantly ill. This man has literally gone years without so much as a sniffle. It is all so sad to see.

Sometimes it takes another person’s difficult season to put our own into perspective… This year I have walked along several people who are in absolutely shattered seasons of their life. I ache so terribly for them, and find myself with wider eyes, freer thoughts and a much heartier gratitude list than ever before.

I really find gratification in an empty DVR… {also- that I don’t need a DVR} I enjoy escaping with a show and snuggle down with the husband as much as anyone. I don’t feel tv is the devil, and I’ve never been anywhere near a slave to my DVR. Even so, I’m feeling much the same way about tv as I am movies…

Tulips are toxic for dogs… I learned this because my passionate love of fresh flowers and my sweet little (almost 1-year-old) Golden Elenor believed they were meant to be her snack… So she ate tulips. And it was intense, and stress filled, and most importantly- she is ok. Thus concludes the story of how this flower loving girl will never have tulips around, again.

So many people are ready to burst, needing to share their journey with someone and continually finding no one who cares… Every single day this lesson grows bigger.

Motherhood is quite possibly the kryptonite, to my life... More than anything, as a girl, I wanted a mother to mother me. More than anything, as I was older, I manually moved whatever mountains I had to, to become one. Miscarriages, surgeries, medication, procedures, foster care, failed adoptions and finally, being a mom… But that motherhood journey, for me, never had a solitary moment of peace. It was one painful struggle after another. I’ve spent an adulthood waiting for it to be that thing I’ve always believe Motherhood would be.

I have never thought I would be the rehome my dog type… And yet, this has become a daily discussion. We have a dog that grows more and more special needs, by the day. With a chronic illness, traveling (for work) husband and limited financial resources- we are at a loss. Many (MANY) nights she keeps us up with her manic behavior, which now consistently all day as well, and it is just growing worse. I am sad, so so sad to even consider. (And so overwhelmed as to how.)

I am tired… which could be the culmination of all the things, and the real blame for why I’m not reading. Truth is, I’m too tired to figure any of that out! Ha!

The ugliest of secrets…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay20 Comments

There are so many things… layered things deeply woven within my journey as a wife, as a woman and as a mother. We are subconsciously trained, here in this culture we call home, to look at the beautiful, well put together women and wonder What’s her secret? While also bristling internally about the knowledge of what our secrets are.

I may not know what hers is, but mine- Mine is ugly. It does not lead to put together, it does not lead to beauty.

My secret is the shame attached to every single element of my real, genuine life. My motherhood, daughterhood, marriage, sisterhood… On and on. You tell me a story about your father and then ask me about my own dad. I smile and relay the information, while the secret part beneath the surface that remains unsaid screams the truth- I don’t really know my father. My dad isn’t actually even my dad. He’s someone else’s dad. He loves me, I love him, but our lives are different circles of things now and though we exchange and annual something-or-other, we are pretty separate and that is ok. What ownership do I have of him? None. Fatherless and unvalued, there in lies my secret shame.

Your sister is your best friend, and now you’re asking if I am close with mine? I have several sisters but am close with two of mine. Sisters are the best! Except, gurgling just beneath my horizon there’s more. There is a defect within me, there must be, and the reality is that they aren’t really my sisters. Not beyond the word anyway. I have no one real, that is mine. Shame.

My marriage of twenty-five years, what’s our secret? It hasn’t been perfect. There hasn’t been faithfulness. There hasn’t always been stability, honor, honesty, love… Ease. If you only knew…

Shame… Shame eats away at the fact that my children are not from my womb, shame lives in the many words and perspectives who’ve challenged my motherhood and questioned its validity. Oh, Hallmark of consumer driven holidays, do I deserve a Mother’s Day nod, a celebration, am i even a real mom at all? World, which reiterates over and over a woman’s purpose is to bear children- and Very beginning of the Bible which explains a woman’s curse will be painful childbirth- who am I? What am I? 

My secret is shame. My truths, the REAL truths, they silence the shame. For awhile anyway- but it always comes back. Today- today I see it for what it is.

Shhh, between you and me, tomorrow I may forget again…

(this post is in participation of the FMF prompt on Secret. to see more, visit the link.)