Stumbling Together in the Right Direction

The idea that our journeys, both with Jesus, and with progress through our mental illness will be a straight and easy line is a falsehood. It is not as easy as deciding to make a change, or do the work, or follow the path. It’s a winding trail, full of obstacles and switchbacks and hairpin turns. And you will stumble. I have. More times than I can count.

Twenty Years a Wife

It hasn’t been easy, these past twenty years. It HAS been beautiful and amazing and some days are perfect. But it has also been a battle. I’d be lying if I tried to sugar coat it.

Hunting for Sunshine

I remember that I need the sun like I need air to breathe. I remember that the darkness makes me feel like I’m crawling within a fog, that I’m living a life I can’t quite recognize. I remember that between the dark and the cold and them impending holiday chaos, I feel as though the world is ending around me.

Breathing Hope

Hope that progress, small and steady, can be made. Hope that can be found in the belief that Jesus hears your cries, and holds you closely. Hope that there is purpose in this journey, and that joy can still exist - both within the journey and on the other side of it. I won’t pretend that the darkness isn’t real. But I will light the candle regardless.

It Bears Repeating

The knowledge that we are not alone in our darkness ignites a tiny spark. It may be a small and distant lighthouse on a far-off shore, but the pinprick of light is visible. And real.

Go Love Your Neighbor

It’s dark and twisty and hard to understand – but the problem with asking people currently residing at this midnight moment to just reach out and ask for help is that we are asking them to think logically at a point where logic no longer applies.

Jesus Wept

And then it’s so very easy to spiral down a guilty drain for feeling how I feel. . .I shouldn’t be sad, I shouldn’t be worried, I shouldn’t be disappointed with any aspect of my life. How very selfish of me. How very, very, very Un-Jesusy.

Strong

I’ve only space for putting one foot in front of the other, for wiping my face and the kettle bells, for checking on my daughter, for keeping my shoulders back, for breathing. There is no space left for embarrassment or humiliation. Only enduring.

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