You probably think this post is going to be about how I lost myself after the birth of my first child, all the work of diaper changes and feedings and the eternal nights, because according to society my son is a terrible sleeper (p.s. according to me he's just a baby who loves his mom and is not so great at the sleeping bit). That is not what this post is about. In fact, it is the opposite. Surprisingly, the Bible is right when it says when you lose your life you will find it. This is the story of how almost 12 months ago now I began to find myself again.
You see, about 6 years ago I began facing some formative moments in my life. They could have made me, but instead I let them break me and I haven't felt like myself ever since. It began when I had to leave Africa because I just couldn't stop getting sick. Oh, nothing major or terrible. But a staph infection here and strep throat there and before I knew it I was missing so much of the work I was there to do to be sequestered in my room trying to recover but the relief just never came. So I, along with the leadership there, made one of the toughest decisions of my life and I "came home" a couple months early. It didn't feel like home. I thought that was going to be the springboard to the rest of my life. I loved the work so much. I loved the people so much. I didn't want to be in America, I wanted to be in Africa. It felt like a resounding defeat. And I left it as that. When I arrived home, I was welcomed with a barrage of rumors. The most well-meaning, kindest people I know were asking if I'd "left my calling" so that I could be with my boyfriend. Out of respect for the wonderful people involved I won't belabor this part of the story, except to say that I faced the devastating destruction of relationships over the course of the next few years. Perhaps the reason it haunted me for so long was because I wasn't an innocent victim in all of it. I was as much responsible for causing these beautiful people pain as they were responsible to me. In what I was sure was supposed to be the happiest time in my life, I struggled with deep depression, sobbing on the bathroom floor, begging God to take the pain away, and swearing that inasmuch as it fell to me I would never hurt anyone like that again and I would never be hurt like that again.
And this profoundly emotional and intuitive soul did just that, I didn't hurt like that anymore. I didn't feel at that level. I didn't speak my mind at that level. I restricted myself from judging any action of anyone else and slowly my ability to discern what was happening around me faded away. I constantly carried with me the weight of shame and failure. I hadn't been enough for Africa. I hadn't been enough for the ones I loved. I failed them and I failed myself. And no matter how I fought to lose the numbness of it all, I couldn't. Don't get me wrong. In the last 6 years, God has been incredibly good and faithful to me. I married an amazing man, I achieved my goal of finishing my bachelors, I've been surrounded by many friends both new and old, and I experienced the wonders of new cities, beaches, and the majesty of forests and mountains. But in the midst of it all, I've longed to truly know who I am again.
One of the biggest signals to me that there was something out of place in my personality came a couple of years ago when I took a personality training at work. The pre-training assessment told me that I was a pure, unwavering analyzer. According to this, I'm closed off and prefer to focus on problems and solutions than on people. I would prefer no one talk about themselves to me but instead get to the issue at hand and leave my personal life in the mysterious shadows. I was shocked. I have a good dose of German efficiency in my soul, don't get me wrong. I also like to solve problems, but mostly because problems effect people and I want people to have the best. I knew something was amiss. But I still couldn't put my finger on what was going on or how to fix it.
Then came Elijah. There was something sacred about that immediate post-partum phase. Maybe it was the extreme exhaustion or the roller-coaster of hormones, but I felt again. I cried every week at church for a month or two. I sat in silent wonder at the immense responsibility that Josh and I had taken on. Suddenly, the things that happened years ago didn't seem to matter anymore, what mattered was the new weight of raising this little baby, whose destiny I can feel on him just as strongly as I can smell those wonderful presents he leaves for me to clean up. Y'all I'm a mess. 100%. But I love it. I love it because life is meant to be messy. Our emotions were never meant to be bottled up and kept hidden from the world. Perfection isn't something to be achieved, it's who we already are. And so I'm taking this next step of raw vulnerability to be more honest with you than I've probably been in years, because we weren't meant to live in the shadows. We were created, I was created, to shine bright.
If you feel so bold, please join me in this journey to be who we truly are. Share with me what's going on in your life. The people who walked with me during this time in spite of my distance are precious to me and I would love to walk with you as well in the reality of who you are.
You see, about 6 years ago I began facing some formative moments in my life. They could have made me, but instead I let them break me and I haven't felt like myself ever since. It began when I had to leave Africa because I just couldn't stop getting sick. Oh, nothing major or terrible. But a staph infection here and strep throat there and before I knew it I was missing so much of the work I was there to do to be sequestered in my room trying to recover but the relief just never came. So I, along with the leadership there, made one of the toughest decisions of my life and I "came home" a couple months early. It didn't feel like home. I thought that was going to be the springboard to the rest of my life. I loved the work so much. I loved the people so much. I didn't want to be in America, I wanted to be in Africa. It felt like a resounding defeat. And I left it as that. When I arrived home, I was welcomed with a barrage of rumors. The most well-meaning, kindest people I know were asking if I'd "left my calling" so that I could be with my boyfriend. Out of respect for the wonderful people involved I won't belabor this part of the story, except to say that I faced the devastating destruction of relationships over the course of the next few years. Perhaps the reason it haunted me for so long was because I wasn't an innocent victim in all of it. I was as much responsible for causing these beautiful people pain as they were responsible to me. In what I was sure was supposed to be the happiest time in my life, I struggled with deep depression, sobbing on the bathroom floor, begging God to take the pain away, and swearing that inasmuch as it fell to me I would never hurt anyone like that again and I would never be hurt like that again.
And this profoundly emotional and intuitive soul did just that, I didn't hurt like that anymore. I didn't feel at that level. I didn't speak my mind at that level. I restricted myself from judging any action of anyone else and slowly my ability to discern what was happening around me faded away. I constantly carried with me the weight of shame and failure. I hadn't been enough for Africa. I hadn't been enough for the ones I loved. I failed them and I failed myself. And no matter how I fought to lose the numbness of it all, I couldn't. Don't get me wrong. In the last 6 years, God has been incredibly good and faithful to me. I married an amazing man, I achieved my goal of finishing my bachelors, I've been surrounded by many friends both new and old, and I experienced the wonders of new cities, beaches, and the majesty of forests and mountains. But in the midst of it all, I've longed to truly know who I am again.
One of the biggest signals to me that there was something out of place in my personality came a couple of years ago when I took a personality training at work. The pre-training assessment told me that I was a pure, unwavering analyzer. According to this, I'm closed off and prefer to focus on problems and solutions than on people. I would prefer no one talk about themselves to me but instead get to the issue at hand and leave my personal life in the mysterious shadows. I was shocked. I have a good dose of German efficiency in my soul, don't get me wrong. I also like to solve problems, but mostly because problems effect people and I want people to have the best. I knew something was amiss. But I still couldn't put my finger on what was going on or how to fix it.
Then came Elijah. There was something sacred about that immediate post-partum phase. Maybe it was the extreme exhaustion or the roller-coaster of hormones, but I felt again. I cried every week at church for a month or two. I sat in silent wonder at the immense responsibility that Josh and I had taken on. Suddenly, the things that happened years ago didn't seem to matter anymore, what mattered was the new weight of raising this little baby, whose destiny I can feel on him just as strongly as I can smell those wonderful presents he leaves for me to clean up. Y'all I'm a mess. 100%. But I love it. I love it because life is meant to be messy. Our emotions were never meant to be bottled up and kept hidden from the world. Perfection isn't something to be achieved, it's who we already are. And so I'm taking this next step of raw vulnerability to be more honest with you than I've probably been in years, because we weren't meant to live in the shadows. We were created, I was created, to shine bright.
If you feel so bold, please join me in this journey to be who we truly are. Share with me what's going on in your life. The people who walked with me during this time in spite of my distance are precious to me and I would love to walk with you as well in the reality of who you are.
