Tag: anxiety

Unmasking is Hard

The term “unmasking” was new to me when I first learned of my neurodivergence. I saw it on Pinterest and Instagram, displayed in captions and little relatable memes, but what did it mean?

I felt the full experience of what it means a few nights ago when I was invaded once again by rising anxiety, flooding through my mind, and this pressure, invisible yet firm, closing in on me. I knew deep down that I was close to having a meltdown, from environmental things that a neurotypical would brush off. I also knew that I couldn’t melt down; it wasn’t safe to be me. I couldn’t stim, that would be looked down upon with pity. I had to put on that mask, the normal-brained facade I’ve studied my whole life to become invisible and just blend into the sea of normies.

I feel this pressure to mask the most when I am interacting with my family. My mom and her side, for a brief time, my dad and his side. It’s a quagmire, being the offspring of two very domineering, neurotypical, narcissistic humans.

It’s a lot of work. Why am I sharing this? Because if you feel this way, you are not alone. I see you. I support you. I am rallying for you and I to make it through these moments holding space for us to be as we are, and to feel like we are enough. We don’t need to be fixed, we need to cope with this wild world that doesn’t understand us.

Like an ill-fitting garment, the clothes are the problem not your body. Your brain is not the problem, the world favors one way of doing things and that doesn’t make it right. Being louder doesn’t make your point more correct. There is nothing wrong with who you are and who you were created to be.

I hope wherever you are, this finds you well. That you are safe, loved, valued, and being kind to yourself. The world needs more kindness. Know that I love you and support you. Take the mask off, breathe, stim, and find peace.

Until next time ❤

Yesterday, Today, and Forever

Tariffs. Bird Flu. Ragebait. Clickbait. Speculation. Social Media. Everyone has an opinion. Eggs. But you’re telling me no one has a solution? Anger. Tears. Can no one else see the Ha Satan clearly?

Closures. Monopolies. Let’s spiral. Small business. Big business. DOGE. AI. Algorithm, subscription fatigue. The death of personal style. Kindle downloads. Call BookTok, this 1984. The world is full of NPCs. Could you wake up from your main character energy?

Quiet the voices speaking lacking wisdom. Who knows no good deed. I’ve had enough. Power. Riches. They are for fools. Feel a calling, verses come into focus. So perfectly timed. Elohim. YHWH. Passing over. Lent is upon us. Cling to truth.

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”

Hebrews 13:8 NIV

A Shy Girl Goes To The DMV

I’d say this photo, featured above accurately represents how I feel in situations like going to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to renew my driver’s license. It’s a blur of moments, faces, government jargon, and touch screens. The big stack of papers signed and passed along in the process of closing on a house is more etched in my brain than the 20 minutes at my local DMV location. There is something about the dull, harsh lighting and bland walls covered in bulletins, electronic screens, and directions. It’s overstimulating and yet underwhelming. It is not a place I feel comfortable in.

This feeling began many years ago during the driver’s permit test process, in a different DMV, equally dull and filled with too many signs and screens. There was always one piece of information I was missing. A document my mom and I forgot, or a process out of order. The test was deceptively easy to study and terrifyingly tricky when taken, and I almost missed too many answers due to the sheer amount of distraction of the dull yet harsh environment.

This time, was one of those such times. Renewing in 2017 was easy, it was a new DMV with friendly people. Renewing in 2021 was an absolute breeze because there was no need to go in for the photo, just click and pay at home. It spoiled me. Renewing this time in 2025 was one of those DMV experiences fraught with tricky trip-ups.

Not surprising for me, it’s been a place I have been thwarted for years, from nervously failing the parallel park portion because I was afraid of my test proctor and his gruff demeanor or forgetting to keep my permit up-to-date and having to renew to test to wait four months for another testing time. The government process is nothing if not inefficient and a war of attrition.

The gauntlet was thrown down. Waiting for Christmas and New Year to pass, I renewed my license online and got stuck in a loop of changing my address. I then could not reach the process to renew anymore, because it was updating my address. So I mailed my renewal and waited. I then received two separate address updates for the license set to expire, but no update on my renewal.

Two weeks passed and I began to anxiously check the internet for a timeline – usually within 15 business days. Oh no, business days…I sent it in the mail on Jan 2, how many days would spend in the USPS system? Then a former president passed, delaying mail service. Was renewing it a month in advance not enough?! We then checked online, showing it had been renewed. Phew! But, when? I received another piece of mail, updating my voter registration automatically, but no temporary license or camera card.

Each day as the mail came, I ran to check it like Ralphie waiting for his Little Orphan Annie secret decoder pen. I began to worry, was my license going to expire waiting for it to show? Was it all going to unravel because of the sluggish pace of the government institution? How was I going to follow behind in my car when my husband’s car went for inspection in February? Was it back to walking for me?

Then one beautiful day I heard the mailbox close with a slam (it’s a very old cast iron mailbox), I scurried from my work room and descended the stairs with the promise of the future in my eyes. My delight was palpable as my hand pulled a DMV envelope from the mailbox. The envelope tore with ease, revealing the temporary license and camera card in my hands. All was saved!

On the next good weather weekend (it’s been a winter of snow squalls) we made our way to the DMV for the last battle left, the camera portion. Now as a shy person, this is the part that still makes me want to recoil. I never liked picture day at school. When a camera is pointed at me I can’t smile normally. I feel like a spotlight bears down upon me, filling me with dread. My smile looks unnatural, sometimes like a grimace if I smile with teeth. If I smile with a closed mouth like I did throughout my braces era, it looks uncomfortable, my shyness written across my face.

Filled with shyness, I sallied forth, pulling my ticket in preparation for a long wait. To my surprise, my number was called immediately and I had to go to a completely separate area, by myself. Something I dread in unfamiliar places. So in a flurry of adrenaline, I went into the photo room and unbeknownst to me went to the wrong side of the table to sit down. The DMV lady shouted at me, my face immediately turning red. Embarrassed and ashamed at my accident, my apologies flowed forth. She continued to scold me in front of the other citizens there to get their photo. It was incredibly awkward.

She was sweet to the other people and continued to speak to me with contempt, even though I continued to apologize for my mistake. I was flustered. Ripping my paperwork and not knowing where to go. Soon the others in front of me were served. It was my time to smile but to be honest, I was so embarrassed and concerned they were going to remove me as a security threat, I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.

Then the weirdest thing happened the lady switched from harsh to calm, saying she needed to yell at me for the camera on the ceiling or she would face consequences. (What? That’s bizarre.) It was tough to trust the nice demeanor, was she going to snap at me again if I made another mistake?

At that point, I was introvert drained from the drama, and wanted to hide. My posture could not hide my internal feelings as I sat down in front of the camera. Flash, the first picture snapped displaying a red-faced blank expression. She offered me a retake and snap, and a turtle-necked miserable-looking photo appeared on screen. I believe she offered me another retake but my mind was far away.

I continued to make mistakes, including selecting Arabic on my screen to fill out a few more things for completion. As she handed me my card, she apologized finally for scaring me, which I appreciated and I wished her a good day. I looked at my ID card and was horrified, the person doesn’t even look like me. The bottom half of the image is stretched out, compared to my photo from 2017 it looks like I aged and let myself go from how distorted the image is from what I saw on the screen.

It was the cherry bomb on top of the 2025 battle: DMV vs. Shy Girl.

I’ve tried to remind myself that what is important is that I did it, I didn’t cry when shouted at, and I didn’t give into my anxiety and bail. I did it and persevered, the bad picture happened but it doesn’t reflect what I actually look like and no one is really going to see it. But dang, what an awful experience! I think why the new picture feels like such a jump scare is it is all my fears wrapped up into one – aging and looking ugly and fat. My culture is obsessed with thinness and beauty. Plastic surgery is becoming normalized and it is sickening how vain we all are becoming. I forgot to do my hair, I didn’t wear foundation just a little eyeliner, and I forgot to gua sha.

The picture was just me and things out of my control like getting scolded, bad lighting, and a stretched image created something without beauty, because beauty is not the goal for the DMV, it is clinical and for the process of identification. It is a stark contrast to the world of filters, good lighting, and curated perfection fed to us in this current age. Seeing that ugly image, rocked my confidence because even though I find my worth in Christ, I still live in this fallen world that equates beauty and youth with virtue and worth. So what happens when life happens and time passes? We become older, we gain weight and no longer look like the size 2 self from our teen years?

Is everything past that point worthless? I realized, as I looked at the image of my expired license and the new one that having the same picture for two renewals, warped my view of how I am aging. The younger version also was far more curated as a coping mechanism. I used to be a stickler for straightening my hair, wearing makeup, jewelry, and food restriction to be in the beauty standard to blend in, like an outer shell. Protective, candy-coated.

But the younger version of myself would have been unable to cope with a stranger yelling at me without crying and shutting down. Any picture of myself I saw as ugly, I had no confidence even at my skinniest. All the things that have happened since 2017 – loss of loved ones, getting shunned by family members, reconnecting with my dad and his family only to get hurt again, losing my place to live, having nowhere to live, and crashing in people’s guest rooms for a few weeks, moving to Georgia and back, subsequent moves out of sketchy landlord situations, my first job, my first layoff in a global pandemic, etc.

It’s been a lot and through that process, I grew character and began to unmask. So what if I don’t look the same as I did in 2017? I thought I looked ugly and fat in my 2017 ID photo and was ashamed. It’s just a photo on a driver’s license card. I like the person God has shaped me to be more now in 2024, than the person who was lost and far from God in 2017. Cheers to growth!

Reclaiming the Calm

As I mentioned in The Rewards and Scars of Setting Healthy Boundaries, I am on a journey to let go of the cortisol and tension I have unknowingly stored in my body. I didn’t realize I was doing this, possibly for decades now, because I don’t feel my feelings I bury them, which I’m working on. The only time I think I wasn’t doing this was during my sophomore and junior years in college when I was doing yoga practice, deep breathing, and trying to get to know myself. Which sounds odd, but was a great way to get through a broken heart.

Emotional Unintelligence

The hows and whys of the broken heart are a bit complicated but I was muddling through the after-effects of a situation ship. Why a situation ship? Well, I believe I was doing anything and everything to feel something, because I buried the heartbreak I felt at the end of high school, realizing my dad had missed my entire childhood and turning 18 meant that child support, the only string connecting us was severed. I didn’t know where he was and if I would see him again. It turns out I did see him again and would be moving to the same town as him five years later, another story for another day. Life is wild.

Anyways, coming out of high school the weight of that broken heart was so much I didn’t know what to do with it. There was so much emotion, so much tension and confusion, in my mind and body that I didn’t understand so my brain freaked out and gave me my first taste of anxiety, depression, and panic. It was a lot. During this time I also lost my ability to cry. I went totally numb which was unnerving, but at the time I was happy at least I wasn’t overwhelmed by my emotions anymore. The downside was that I felt nothing.

I’m Chuck Bass

I didn’t like that. I’m a highly sensitive person, an artistic soul, and feeling is how I understand the world around me. I wanted to feel like myself again. Here’s where the mess began – I decided to go into dating in college in this incredibly unhealthy mindset. These casual relationships were doomed from the start. It couldn’t grow into something real because I wasn’t emotionally available. Which opened the door for the worst relationship type in my opinion the situationship. It was the exact opposite of what my personality needs or wants but hey, I couldn’t feel anything so how hurt could I get?

Blown Up Life

Yeah, this blew up in my face. Once I came out of this situationship and this time of emotional numbness, I realized that I had completely blown up my life. Close relationships that I had from high school were not there. I had not invested in good friendships and community in my college life either by not seeking it out or ditching out on friends who could have been healthy supportive people, because I was scared of these friendships. It was a mess. I was so lonely. I had to get to know myself because there was no one else. I also didn’t know myself anymore. Who was this numb person I had been? Who is this new person who feels, but also feels lost and lonely?

There was so much I needed to understand about myself before I could be a good friend again or try dating once more. I didn’t know where I was going, or who I wanted to be as an adult. There was so much change in a short time. It was time to pause, slow down, and spend time doing the work to find this new person within the closed-off shell.

Meeting A Healthier Me

During this time I became independent for the time. I started going to the coffee shop by myself and learned to be okay on my own, which was wild. This is a skill I’ve forgotten how to do. I let myself be alone with my thoughts, it was a rough road to get there. This time alone started with a season of insomnia, where there was no choice but to be by myself, and now I realize spent time alone with God even though I wasn’t focused on this at the time. I discovered new shows like Fruits Basket, Trigun, Firefly, and Vikings. I also began thinking seriously about what I wanted in life with this new scenario. I didn’t end up going to fashion school or doing the Fashion Business major I was supposed to create with my advisor. I found myself drawn to fashion history through the creative sandbox of one cool professor who gave us the freedom to explore our interests.

I also started doing yoga and learning to train my mind and my breathing to keep going when my body and mind were tangled up in knots from the stress and trauma of life. It was the first time I think I was doing exercise for exercise itself not for a job like paint crew or campus mail delivery for the mailroom, which were both pretty physical. My campus was old and full of hills and stairs, so many stairs.

2020s Version of Numb

As life goes on, things repeat. Life changed again and I got busy. I stopped practicing these healthy habits into post-grad and getting married which was dumb on my part. I got healthier but I don’t think I got wiser. So I find myself now relearning how to find healthy balance and healthy habits to rid myself of the tension and wild mind that has trapped me in a prison of my own making.

How do I find my way out? My plan is to reflect and discuss that process here as I go through this journey of self-discovery again because I think this is something we all face and I wish I had known more about emotional health when I was younger. There are a lot of things that kept that from being something I understood. We don’t always have the most emotionally mature parents and I think it’s hard to talk about. I hope you’ll join me on this little adventure.

Gotta Work? Got To Surrender First.

Since we settled in here, I’ve had a rough time. I’m not sleeping well consistently. It’s been a challenge to let down after a season of being on guard, on point, agile, and ready to work. I’ve felt behind on my own timelines after my workroom was boxed up and put into storage for a few weeks.

It was just a few weeks, but it felt longer, and I know why. I’ve been convicted of this as I’ve been reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan. My timeline and my plan were interrupted and that frustrated me. I am struggling with both control and pride. Woah, goosebumps. My grandma would be so pleased that I am talking about this.

Pride and Control

In the scary moments, God took over and directed my life and my steps from April 27 to June 7. In the meantime, I had to fully surrender my time and my trust to Him. I did and everything did turn out fine, better than expected. It was a big moment of growth for me, as a member of a little club called ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ instead of trusting in faith. This was a big step.

But as human nature and sin go, as soon as things got easier I began to slack off. I have been a huge slacker in my quiet time with the Lord, in both prayer and consistently reading His word and dwelling on its meaning. We are called as believers to meditate on His word, instead I’ve been filling my head with other things. My focus shifted from God’s plan back to my desires.

I’ve felt this intense pressure to not let myself rest. To work, work harder, and don’t stop. I’ve been obsessing about how to make money with skills to provide again. How to feel validation and success in this big life step that has made me feel out of control. I’ve been craving the ability to make money, build our savings back up, quickly pay back the mortgage, and “feel safe” after such a big financial step.

How am I “unsafe” or in danger now though? This sentiment has been marinating in my brain for too long. I know why. I have not been properly nourishing my soul, nor have I been renewing my mind.

Wake Up Call

God provided everything and more when I was in danger of my life falling apart. This happened because I humbled myself and did it His way. I let Him lead. I’ve been convicted by the truth that Francis Chan points to in his chapter, Profile of the Obsessed. I woke me up to what I’m working towards and what I’m obsessed with and neither of those aligns with where my life was oriented towards through giving up control and letting God lead. I can’t just wrangle the control back because I’m scared. I have no idea where I’m headed, but God does so it is a lot safer to let Him lead.

I’ve been convicted by Chan’s words of truth that my actions since the house purchase and move-in have not been in my best interest, because I’ve given into my need for control. Sadly this demonstrates my lack of trust and faith, like a” micromanaging boss. I’ve told myself that I “know” better. This is too much to take on with the resources God has provided. The math is not mathing. I need to “fix” this on my own.

Oof, I sound like a rude, self-centered jerk.

The worst part? I am treating my Creator like this. I am ashamed.

Acceptance and Second Chances

Every time I think I’ve matured past my pride and need to control my life, this behavior rears its ugly head. But thankfully this past week, I’ve had to slow down and log off. My allergies went from 0-60 as ragweed pollen bloomed, my lack of sleep caught up to me and I began to feel worn out. Our internet has gone out twice and in those times I got my head out of Instagram, out of my to-do list, and away from blog posts and knitting deadlines, to read Crazy Love. Crazy Love is a book I started reading in the Spring, that I completely abandoned this summer because I was busy with other things. But without videos or music or scrolling to distract me, I found the quiet moment to get back to what was important. My relationship with my Saviour and getting nourished through God’s truth, this time by the encouragement and theology of Crazy Love.

In every page I’ve read in the past week, I’ve felt humbled and challenged to consider where my focus lies and where it should be. It has shifted to myself and my own wants, instead of God and his Kingdom. Safety and success I’ve put above what brings Him glory for my own. How can I ever expect to succeed without Him? Especially when everything good in my life comes from Him and at the end of the day is His.

The worst part is that my generous hand, who was fulfilled and rejoiced in giving, has been too scared about money to give with the same abandon and joy that I used to do. Because I’ve been worrying about money, seeing it with a scarcity mindset instead of abundance and gratitude for what I have. I am not talking about manifesting here, I’m talking about true gratitude and recognition for the provision of God. I’ve been doing this and not trusting in God to provide for my needs.

It happens so quick. I feel like Peter after the rooster crowed the third time. Or like the Israelites asking to go back to Egypt after God parted the Red Sea and delivered them from their captors because freedom was unfamiliar so they were afraid and would rather go back to the bondage they knew.

There’s a line in the song ‘Looking for a Place to Happen’ by the Tragically Hip that says, “Where they’d stamp on burning bags of sh*t.” Yeah, I feel like my efforts this summer, pushing instead of trusting, worrying instead of praying have been as useful as stomping on burning bags of poop.

Thankfully God is a God of agape love and second chances for those who humble themselves, repent, and follow Him. So that’s what I need to be doing this month. Resetting back to what sustains me, that is God, not my own effort. It’s humbling and freeing.

#61 – Tornado Sirens and Big Emotions

Before I start, I wanted to add this disclaimer. I’m not against things that are good for the community. Even if they may not be my cup of tea in the moment. I’ve been struggling with all these big emotions swirling in my mind and these weather sirens were like my fear personified. I’m still working through coping tools for my neurodivergent traits and on the tricky days, loud noises are something I really struggle with. They scare me on a bright sunny day, even more so in the middle of impending doom. But I don’t believe for a second that the world should stop everything to address my needs. I am one person that is part of a bigger whole.

As I browsed Behr’s wall of paint colors, I picked up two paint chips one called Tornado Season and another Thundercloud. They are these two vibrant, moody blues. Bold, dark, striking. I took them home, and I even ordered Thundercloud for a project. Bold, impressive blues. Striking. I was struck by the realism on Tuesday as I was staring at the color in the sky. Coming for me. Enveloping me in the deep, dark blue. It was a blue that would permeate and color my skies longer than the storm would.

Tuesday was a complicated day. It began sunny, cooler, just fine. Mid-morning brought gentle rumbles of thunder that growled across the sky. The clouds darkened and night became day. It reminded me of the eclipse. Rain poured and the wind blew like a tropical depression that came through on our OBX vacation in 2012. The rain was endless, relentless. No big crashing thunder and no violent storms, just the relentless power of water-like waves breaking up on the coastline. You can’t control the tide and you can’t stop the rain.

The morning rain was the most intense rainstorm of the day, yet as thunder rolled again in the afternoon and the skies were brighter with lighter rain and gentler thunder, the local college in town sounded their emergency broadcast sirens. They either sound after the storm is upon us and it is too late to seek shelter or after the big storm has gone through, or my favorite after the storm has been downgraded so that you begin to question your sanity. I live ten blocks away at least from this college and I heard the siren and broadcaster over my headphones in my sewing room. These sirens are loud, intrusive, and in my opinion, are not helping when they go off at the wrong time.

As a person that is sensitive to loud noises, I struggle with these alert systems. The sirens go on and on and create a sense of panic in my brain from the cadence and noise. The storm was over but the alert kept going on. I appreciate the purpose and message of what they are trying to do with these alerts but they are so poorly managed that they are a nuisance. But the cherry on top of the cake was what came at 5 pm. My phone and older phone, which I use for music, along with my husband’s phone began to emit their own sirens. Three sirens went on and on as we had a severe storm alert, a tornado warning, and a tornado watch. Each time a small change was made to the watch or warning, being extended by 5 minutes, they would go off again.

The radar showed nothing. The skies were fine. Then the radar showed the storm clearly going in the opposite direction of our location. Yet the sirens continued from the phones. Next the warning expired and then our town’s tornado sirens began to ring out. It was over the concerning storm cell was going north, yet they carried on with the tornado siren. I held my hands to my ears and tried not to cry from the cacophony of noise that was building with no clear end. I understand they were trying to save lives, and I am not against the good of the community, but again the application of the tornado sirens after it was over, was distressing and confusing. There was so much confusion.

The sirens rang their final call and silence settled in. The sky to the north and the sky to the south were striking. The south was sunny and partly cloudy with white and silver puffy clouds. The sky to the north was a color I remembered. Thundercloud. It was dark but it was passing us by. I began to make dinner now that we were being told everything was fine. The water bubbled on the stove with pasta. Tornado Season. The sky to the north became as dark as the night with an eerie green tinge. The air was still, eerily still. I asked my husband if we were back in a tornado watch or warning. He said there was no new alert. Nothing. Nada.

No tornado sirens. Nothing. No emergency alert from my phone or the college. Tornado Season and Ocean Abyss clear as day in the clouds coming in like the tide. I began to make pesto uncertain if dinner would be served or if the alerts, the broadcasts, and the forecasting, were all about to serve us a surprise like none other. That deep gut feeling of something being wrong came. The clouds painted the sky above a color closer the Midnight Blue and the rain surged down. Thunder, lightning, wind. Power flickering. Big emotions flooding my mind. The alerts sounding in the quiet moments made everything scarier, there had been no pressure let off and instead it heightened the sensations like a horror movie frames a jump scare. The uncertainty of the sirens saying one thing and the sky another.

I’ve never experienced a day like that before. I’m so grateful that no one got hurt. No funnel touched down. Personally, I know I was overstimulated, and panicked by my own issues with the sirens, but more importantly, overwhelmed by the alarm sounds echoing throughout my personal life at the same time.

This year has been a series of big alarm bells. It started with my landlord telling us to purchase the house we were renting over appraisal price or get out of the hoops of buying a house impromptu. We’ve had some bumps along the road like car issues, a fridge dying, an air conditioner breaking, our homeowner’s insurance dropping us on the age of our house, etc. There’s been a lot of change and a lot of new financial responsibilities that are a privilege and an adjustment. But what is expressly weighing on me is my mom’s health right now. Some strange things are going on that the doctors can’t seem to prescribe a treatment plan for. Until we get to the bottom of this, I’m pretty scared. Like a constant tornado siren is hovering in the back of my mind. I’m not sleeping well because of it and all the change in general, and my fuse is short. So the well-meaning chaos of those weather alerts and emergency broadcasts ringing through the air, piled on top of the internal maelstrom I’m sailing through.

I’m thinking about my grandparents and their passing. Family history and health problems are creeping in my mind making large shadow monsters of worry. My mom and I have always been a thing. The divorce really bonded us together and the thought of her being really sick and the doctors not knowing how to fix it is freaking me out. I haven’t worried like this before. There has always been a simple explanation for any health issues she’s had. The way it makes me feel out of control and terrified. My mind is so loud right now. I miss my mind being quiet. That’s what I wish for amid those storms. To not feel impending doom from every level. It was quite a chaotic day. But who knew Behr’s paint was spot on?

Looking to the Future

This July has been the first time I’ve recognized that feeling of time passing. The year is halfway over, what do I want to do with these last six months to finish the year strong?

In May, I felt like my life was done, as I knew it. Like a video game, I was done, out of hearts, out of health, game over. June felt like an exciting adventure and a respawn of my little game character in a new environment but the same life. It was thrilling and overwhelming at times, there was so much to catch up on and so much to do to begin our life in our house. July however has been this month of my brain feeling like it is in hyperspeed. Now that I have a new space to create, I also have new creative energy. That two-month break spent packing, moving, and waiting, was like a creative refresh and since then July has been a sprint.

I think some of this wild energy has been all the excitement of this month as part of the STAY fandom, this has truly been a one-of-a-kind comeback, but also I’ve been seeking distraction. My mom is walking through a health condition that came out of nowhere and in a matter of a few weeks she went from my companion packing boxes to being unable to do much physical activity without her body sending off alarm bells. I’ve never seen her like this before, and if I stop to think about it too much, I freak out.

I’ve turned my attention to what the second half of the year could bring. There have been so many wonderful things on the horizon, my friend’s wedding, my sister-in-law’s new place, Kyle’s new woodshop, the possibility of adopting a rabbit from E.A.R.S, Shakerwoods, the Pittsburgh Renaissance Festival, apple picking, Pumpkinville, etc. I’ve begun planning Christmas presents for loved ones, trying to be more ambitious than ever to push myself to learn something new in the process. I’ve also been feeling the itch to actually sell my pieces. I think it’s time, I just have to figure out where and how.

It’s Not Busy Work, it’s Motivation in the Chaos

When I was a kid and honestly, into adulthood, I thought studying the Bible and understanding the entire story, the nooks and crannies of the book that get skipped over, well I thought it was a lot of busy work that I wanted no part of. Especially after those four years of academia, no thanks.

But then I saw people in my life, who did spend all that time being consistent in the Word have much less stress and worry, despite stressful and difficult things. It didn’t make sense to me. I just thought they were more mature than me or could handle life better, as each stress and challenge KO-ed me into a tailspin of anxiety. Maybe they were lucky? Tougher?

They might be, but honestly, since I decided to try their method and read the entire Bible from 2020-2021, I felt like I had a new well of examples to draw on when life got hairy. A reminder of God’s promises to think about instead of comparing my circumstances to others and questioning why this bad lot was happening to me. It sparked the faith and hope for a tomorrow that sustained me through the past two months.

It wasn’t an instantaneous change. I didn’t realize I had made progress until I put work in. Like with everything in life, building faith, learning to hope, and having a scriptural reminder to lean on during the tough days took effort and consistency. Like a workout plan, a garden, language learning, etc. It all takes time and practice. I think that is why there is such an emphasis on perseverance and courage in the Bible because in those moments that test us faith, hope, and peace arrive because you have taken the time to immerse yourself in the manner in which God does things.

It’s motivation in the chaos when nothing makes sense and even you are second-guessing your own choices. For example, the eclipse, which I mentioned before I wasn’t a fan of, but in the moment of the totality, unless you have the knowledge of astronomy to understand that the sun isn’t actually disappearing, it just appears blocked because of the orbit of the earth around the sun perfectly lining up with the orbit of the moon at the right time. Although I knew that was happening, the eerie feeling of the sun ceasing to shine in the middle of the day was bizarre! I knew it would come back and the eclipse would only last a few minutes, there was that little voice in the back of my head that was whispering doubt that everything wouldn’t be okay and the sun would get lost back there, maybe take a wrong turn.

That little voice of doubt lives in all of us. It comes out at the most inconvenient times! It has arrived and set up camp in my head through this whole house debacle. Through all the chaos, I was spending time in prayer but I was struggling to find time to sit down with God’s word and find new motivation. As a believer, reading the Bible is a source of refreshment, it feels like listening to a song which amps you up, I also do that too. (My current favorite is WORK by Ateez). I was worried through all the chaos that not spending time in God’s word would lead to me running out of gas and losing my heart to carry on.

In a recent post, I spoke to where I’ve been but all the chaos of our landlord’s decision to sell the house we lived in and offer us a sketchy deal on it was just the half of it, as we were looking for peace from her lack of boundaries and decorum, we were also looking for a new place to live. There were days when my landlord would dump a whole bunch of stress on my shoulders and then personally the details for our new house would throw down hurdles of chaos. Endless paperwork, the possibility of it not being possible at all, and having to find a new plan, it was a lot and I was surprised in those moments how scripture passages of encouragement from Psalms and Proverbs or stories of struggle by real people in the Bible would find their way into my mind. It would reinvigorate my drive to keep going. It kept me from quitting in frustration.

As a kid, things with my dad leaving us at an early age reinforced this narrative in my head that I didn’t deserve happiness or that the other shoe would always drop. Even though God provided a better life than I would have ever had with my narcissistic and verbally abusive dad, instead of focusing on the good, my brain has fixed on the bad. I have given up on so many hard things in life because I hit a bump in the road and just thought it was what I deserved. It sounds so silly to say it out loud. By digging into the Word over the past four years, that time of study has assisted me in pushing that voice down, in order to reframe what God has in store for me.

Things will probably get bad, over and over again. This world is fallen and can really suck sometimes. There will be jerks but there will also be good people. In life there will be times of joy and sadness, there will also be times of hardship. One setback is just a setback, not a lifestyle. I wish I had pursued studying the Bible sooner because I think there was a lot of peace available in my life that I refused to acknowledge. I did it the hard way, alone. It didn’t need to be like that.

Even if you are not a person of faith, I hope this encourages you to prioritize your mental health so that you will have a deep well to draw from on those hard days. You are not alone. I think you are awesome. ❤

#54 – Keep Flying

Happy May! This is my favorite month of the spring season. The flowers have bloomed, in their vibrant glory of fuschia and periwinkles. The leaves come back! I love seeing the trees all dressed in the green finery for another year. The warmth of the sunshine as it washes me in its light. It’s the joy of feeling warm without that roasting heat of June and July. We have wildflowers, the days are still growing long, and a whole season of outdoor activities stretching out in front of us – it’s a great time to be alive.

This May is going to be a whirlwind for sure. It’s happening in good ways and bad. I can’t exactly say why yet, but I’d like to share something this month is teaching me – how to remain calm when I have no chill because big life changes are happening. Does anyone really? I’m not convinced, but I see that being able to step back from times of shaky ground and change to find peace in the storm of confusion is the secret of adulthood.

I’m learning to stick to a plan and focus on the finish line. It’s teaching me how to push my worries back into my head relax my shoulders and turn my attention to something else. Am I doing this perfectly every time? Heck no! I was frustrated and worried, completely done and ready to wave the white flag last night. Staying calm is such a tricky thing. It feels like a balancing act with fine china ready to smash with any small shift. A tightrope act of processing my emotions, making a plan, feeling overwhelmed, getting tired, and usually I would feel looped in this circle of stress, unable to turn my mind off and get a breather to recharge.

Growing in faith and maturity has given me a new perspective on this feeling. I don’t like it and I actually want to do something about it. I don’t want to be tossed around by the sea of life. I want to roll it. Be someone who can accept what they cannot change and keep moving forward with joy in my heart. So I have been applying new strategies. I only complete one big stress task per day and then I move on to a normal task and a creative task. I’ve been more honest with the people around me that are my support system and have actually let them support me without isolating myself in a state of overwhelm.

Talking has reminded me of the bigger picture and that although there are some big things on the horizon, it’s going to be okay because I have people who love me. I’ve sought out fun things in the evening like watching familiar favorite TV shows, video games and good meals. I’ve been challenging myself to eat healthy instead of giving into stress eating patterns. I’ve been drinking herbal teas for my immune system and emotional wellbeing. I’ve been pushing myself to either workout or get outside, away from scrolling to clear my head and relieve stress.

It’s not just a bunch of Hocus Pocus it’s truly been helping. And personally, Kyle and I praying together, has been a game changer. Getting on my knees and praying instead of praying at my desk, or in the shower, or as I do tasks throughout the day, has made a big difference. Which to be clear, those are not bad ways to pray, in 1 Thessalonians 5:16-17 literally says, “pray without ceasing.” I’m learning a lot from all that is happening and I think, however everything pans out I am getting valuable life experience to keep going when it feels confusing or scary. Like it says in Firefly, find a ship, find a crew, keep flying.

I hope wherever you are, dear reader, that you are having a lovely day. I wish you a wonderful week and believe that it will be no matter what you are facing. There is a bigger plan at work. Thank you for spending time with me today, it means the world to me that anyone would take the time to read my blog. ❤

#53 – Lemon Curd

In Portal 2, Cave Johnson has an iconic rant about lemons that may have been the inspiration for my Saturday plan – to make dairy-free lemon curd from scratch.

To clarify, no lemons were exploded. But they were zested, juiced, and combined into a luscious lemon sauce and baked into lemon bars. Tart, sweet, buttery, lemon bars.

“All right, I’ve been thinking, when life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don’t want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life’s manager!
Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I’m the man whose gonna burn your house down – with the lemons! I’m gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!”

-Cave Johnson, Aperture Laboratories

But why did Cave Johnson speak so deeply to my mood on Saturday morning, one of the best times of the week? Well my dysfunctional family, of course. Communication is truly an art form, and for some relationships, healthy communication seems as easy as replicating a Michelangelo masterpiece with a butter knife. I am a member of that club. I feel like sometimes a conversation with my mom is doomed from the start. I call her and there is something in the air. A mistaken tone she finds in me, a lack of matching her extroverted, neurotypical energy.

The inability to recognize drama or harshness in her tone. My anxiety and frustration at being accosted by questions, picking remarks, or in general still not living up to whatever I was supposed to. It’s a mess, a mess that continues to respawn after numerous attempts to get rid of this and live a drama-free life with the mom that I do deeply love even if sometimes I get exasperated at her. This was one of those conversations, I did something and the verbal missiles were locking on me, which was really disappointing because it was supposed to be a simple conversation – what time are you coming up to celebrate my husband’s birthday?

Instead, there was chaos, my confusion at why there was chaos with questions followed by accusations of trying to fight and being told I was being a problem, gaslit into the aggressor when I held my temper in check and just asked questions. There seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. I was being baited into a fight and it sucked. It was a conversational sucker punch. Some weeks I don’t even want to pick up the phone, I yearn to move far away from the possibility of hanging out with her, because I just want to be loved not picked at. Being lonely but happy feels better than being close and miserable. I feel like she brings all the drama-ma-ma-ma-ma and then runs away from me after her work is done.

In the screaming silence that followed the nasty encounter, I felt confusion, anger, hurt, sadness, failure, shame, disappointment, a building pressure of anxiety and depression, and the complex childhood trauma memories flooding back of her gaslighting me into thinking I was a kid with an un-teachable spirit, a stubborn child who spirit needed to be broken because seeing things differently from her was a sin.

I feel sorry for my mom because none of those things are true, and keeping me at arm’s length hurts both of us. We only have so much time on this earth, wouldn’t it be better to be laughing instead of arguing, smiling instead of crying?

I’ve learned there is nothing wrong with me. I’m neuro-divergent and God made me this way for a reason. There is beauty in being different, but she can’t see that. She sees me as difficult, and I in turn see her as small-minded.

Recently, I’ve turned to baking when I feel down in the dumps. For a while, baking was quite painful for me, after Grandma passed away in 2020. She was the one who taught me how to bake and that void made baking a chore. Since watching the Great British Bake Off, I’ve found my baking delight once again. We had a bunch of lemons on hand for a separate recipe, and since the rest needed to be used, I decided to make something I’d never made from scratch before. Lemon curd.

They make it on Bake-Off and I used to love eating lemon bars and lemon meringue pie as a kid, it was Papa’s favorite pie. We had it each year on his birthday. It was the bomb. The tart, lemony sharpness of the filling with the pillowy sweet clouds of meringue on top, slightly browned like a marshmallow with a flakey crust. Scrumptious.

Fun fact: My grandma dressed, acted, and looked a lot like Mary Berry. Watching Bake Off is like a hug.

And you know what, baking helped. I felt the tension melt from my shoulders as I zested the lemons and squeezed the juice into the bowl. The delicacy of separating yolks from egg whites required me to slow down, to breathe through the emotional stress. I made a cup of herbal tea and began work on the sugar and butter. After combining it came time to use the bain-marie to slowly temper the eggs and cook until thickened. The result was a dreamy curd that I was hoping for!

Out of pain, something beautiful came, and the next day I made shortbread for the lemon bars and layered the golden yellow lemon sauce into the pan for a delight I hadn’t had since childhood. Next time we’ll make that lemon meringue pie.

I’m glad I’ve learned coping mechanisms like baking, cleaning, stimming, etc so that I am not tempted to rage at my mom, clench my jaw, get drunk, or go on a shopping spree to fill the pain with stuff. It’s been a journey but through my tumultuous twenties, I learned that the dysfunction is never going away but who I am and how I respond to it are not beholden to other people and their poor behavior. And that is true freedom.

Have you ever made lemon curd? Do you like lemon meringue pie or lemon bars? What’s your go-to way to calm down after a stressful encounter? Thank you, dear reader, for coming along on this blogging journey with me. I’m incredibly thankful for you.

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