Unnamed

I was cruising around Google today, looking for answers... of course. To see if anyone else understood. That I'm not crazy. That I'm not alone. For the hundredth time I wondered if anyone else in the universe didn't want kids like me. Was afraid of being pregnant like me. And I found it. It's funny, how we always think that we're alone. When really, with the billions of people in the world... that's quite impossible. What I found, is that the fear of pregnancy and childbirth is a legitimate phobia, and it's called tokophobia. Tokophobia is defined as, "A pathological fear of pregnancy." It can occur in women who've had kids before, or not. Some symptoms (triggered by sight, words, thoughts, etc.) include recurrent nightmares, panic and anxiety attacks, sweating and shaking, thoughts of death or dying... If this sounds like you, please find comfort in knowing that you're not alone. Having a family, including children, is such an ing...

***This post is about mortality and may be triggering to some readers*** Today I heard about a road accident that happened Friday. A family of 6. One mom, one dad, and four sisters. There were 5 fatalities. Death always shakes you up. I was at work, talking with a co-worker, and my boss brings up this accident. One second you're not thinking about much... maybe what you're going to eat for lunch, or your friend, your favorite band coming back, whatever. And the next you're struck somber by the realization that, You're Fragile and Life is Short. That everything else in life appears as filler and distraction from the thought of the inevitable. I feel like I should apologize for being so morbid. But this is a place where I come to write (and invite you to read it), so I'm just going to write what I want and need to and that's that. I'm very grateful for the "distractions" in life, quite honestly. I think we'd all have constant ex...

It feels heavy. Like an anchor has attached itself to you. Like a lead weight is tied to your heart. You look out your window and the sun is shining and you can hear your little neighbors laughing and everything is beautiful, but... you don't feel any happiness. All the colors are kind of muted and everything blurs. Sleep is an escape, and you crave it so you can forget for a little while. Even when you feel like you cannot function, the world is still moving. Nothing stops for you, and time goes on while you try to fight through it & figure stuff out. You might cry a lot. This is how depression feels. Or how it may feel. Everyone struggles and experiences it differently. I have mild- moderate depression, and tend to fight with seasonal depression as well. I've never been "officially" diagnosed by a doctor or health professional. This makes me often feel like a fake, because my pain has not been validated by someone who knows what the...

I don't like people worrying about me. My family, my friends, complete and utter strangers. I do admit, it's nice to have someone be gently concerned for you every once in a while. It can make you feel like you're still seen and cared about. But most of the time, I hate to make someone worry. This is part of the reason why it's so hard for me to tell my parents about my mental illness. I feel guilty, bad, heartbroken, for making them worry more than they have to. My heart twists when I feel like I may be spending a little too much time in solitude, lying on my bed, for my mom to grow concerned and worry over me. I feel sick with guilt when I forget to text my parents and I get home much later than expected. I have to often slip away to a bathroom, or outside, when I start to feel ill as a result of anxiety when I'm out with friends. Rather than tell them what's going on, and have them worry about me. Rather than have them suggest we go, and leave me wi...

Sense and Sensibility. If you've ever read the book by Jane Austen (or have seen the play, like me), you know a bit about what it means to have either. To be full of sense is to be led by your head. To be logical and think things through, to make plans and be responsible. To live with your feet on the ground. To be full of sensibility is to be led by your heart. To feel and dream, to be spontaneous and maybe a little reckless. To live with your head in the clouds. Both are important. Neither is inherently bad, when balanced with the other. But then, we also have the Spirit to consider. As a Believer in Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit lives in me. I should be led by that first. Not my head, not my heart, but the Spirit. In my own life, I tend to feel things very deeply. I am a big fan of Disney, and therefore have been very exposed to "Follow Your Heart!" When I slowly started to come to the realization that, no, you shouldn't be led by your heart,...

It has been said before that the church is like a "hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.” To me, this means that the church body is made up of broken, sinful people who need Jesus, not perfect people who follow religious rules. The church is meant to be a place where you can take off your mask, be real, vulnerable, and broken with those around you. Yet, I find myself walking in every Sunday with my mask firmly glued to my face. High heels. Hair brushed. Makeup on. Smile! "I'm doing just fine how are you!" "Everything is great!" Show your teeth now. Nod. Yes, everything is fine. But it's not. It's not fine. I think that a lot of others in the congregation keep their masks on too. We don't show our brokenness. Not even here. But perhaps there is a person or two here that they can be truly real with. I only have one. The mask dissolves for her only. And sometimes I have trouble even with that. We ge...

Repeat after me. My worth is not in my looks. My worth is not in my looks My worth is not in my looks. I'm staring myself down in the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink as I repeat these words to myself. The way I look and my worth have become more intertwined than I realized. I want to disconnect the two. The number of pimples that you can count on your skin doesn't make you any less lovable. The amount of fat on your body doesn't make you any less worthy. The size of your nose, The hair on your body that society tells you does not belong, The frizziness of your hair, None of these things should define or shape your worth. And yet... It's as if you are not worth loving unless you're beautiful. But that's bs. You're lovable and worthy no matter how you look. When you have people telling you you're beautiful all the time, you start to put your worth in that. And when you aren't made up, when your "bad skin" is showing...