Tag: yearning

Be Gentle

A Girl In A Complex World

Another restless night, tossing and turning, yearning for relief from the pain that’s raging in both legs and head. The demon of pain strikes much harder when vulnerabilities are high.
Tired.
Emotionally drained.
Quesy from a day of unhealthy erratic eating.
Cold.

Be gentle …

The demon of self contempt emerges from the shadows, tempting me to engage in the game we so often play. He pounces on me. Stupid! Fat pig ... More derogatory comments about being fat and choosing a Dairy Queen ice cream over black coffee. WEAK.

My quivering voice whispers, “Be gentle …” in return.

Be gentle …

You precious soul. I see you. I feel your pain. Breathe through it. I am with you.

Demons become angry, cursing me for allowing the presence of gentleness. Get out, they growl. How dare you show up here NOW. You’re too late. The damage is done.

Grief comes out of the shadows. Too much has been lost, she weeps.

Anger bursts forth, with vengeance. DON’T you dare give in. Gentleness doesn’t belong here.

Be gentle …

Out of the shadow creeps memory. Thoughts of the nightmare start toppling over one another. My body shivers and shakes, building momentum by the second.

Be gentle …

Fire shoots at me from the demon of harm. New pain sears it’s way into the flesh of my upper thigh and I gasp, breath catching in my throat.

Be gentle…

You darling child. I see how much it hurts. Here, hold my hand. Give me that flaming dagger. Let it go.

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23)

Heavenly Father sits beside me on the cold tile of the bathroom floor and together we watch the demons fade into the darkness at the sound of His voice.

Be gentle.

Grief Is Complicated

A Girl In A Complex World

Loving someone long term means you get to attend a thousand funerals, for the ppl they used to be.

Ppl are constantly changing. We become exhausted being ourselves so we change. Our opinions, our routines, our hair color, our style, our attitudes, our likes and dislikes … always changing, always evolving. Who you are in this very moment is different than who you were 3 months ago.

We regularly grow out of ourselves. Our spark dies out. And when we see it happening to our loved ones we grieve for them. We miss who they used to be. We long for the parts that made us fall in love with them in the first place. Sometimes the new version is even better than before. While other times we struggle to hold on to whatever we can from the past version because this newly invented person standing before us has no resemblance whatsoever to the one we held so much respect for.

Hundreds of funerals are to be had for one single person. Sparks die, over and over again. It’s up to us to travel alongside our loved ones as they go from each version and to honor what emerges along the way. Sometimes it will be an even brighter flame than before. While other times it will be a mere flicker that temporarily floods the room with a necessary darkness.

I’ve been learning a lot about relationships in recent weeks and have been experiencing a deep sense of grief. I miss the man my husband was when we first met. I miss the man I married 13 years ago.  My heart aches for the past versions of him that are no longer alive. But as I grieve for that which is no more, I feel a slight jarring in my soul as I realize …

Maybe this is an opportunity to fall in love all over again.

I am reluctant, I admit. But am also holding on for dear life, too afraid of the unknown to let him go. I need him. I don’t want to be alone. It’s selfish of me, I know. Even though he hurt me in the worst possible way I still don’t want to let go.

Darn it. Grief is complicated.

Yearning For Safety

A Girl In A Complex World

Oh, how I wish self compassion wasn’t so hard for me. It’s like my brain purposely goes against it. It doesn’t come natural. There’s a part of me that tends to speak in a compassionate way yet she gets knocked down repeatedly. Kind words spoken to self makes the demon mad.

When things are quiet in my mind and I sense safety in my body my thoughts are more productive, kinder towards myself, hopeful, truthful, encouraging,  calming … they’re healthy. But more often than not my system is fired up. I yearn to feel safety but it’s a very rare thing for me.

I try and make the best of what I have. But the slightest little thing pushes me into high alert and my system begins firing threat signals. A sound, a smell, a cell phone notification, a car door, a movement, a bodily sensation … these things all crush my sense of safety and my body takes over. My heart rate shoots up, trembling overwhelms my body, sleeplessness haunts me at night and exhaustion plagues me by day.

I want solitude. I want healing. But it’s so far out of reach that it’s a waste of time to even try.

Yet … that still, small voice whispers, hold on. 

Holiday Blues

A Girl In A Complex World

          Christmas was … different … this year. I usually enjoy the overall feeling of the season but its like that christmassy feeling was non-existent this year. I don’t know if its because I was in the hospital or maybe its because my pain level has been so high, but December month brought a lot of sadness.


          A different kind of sadness though. The kind where it felt as if my heart was literally aching. I found myself frequently holding back tears. There’s been such a deep yearning in my soul. A longing for things I dont have and can’t do. Its the kind of sadness that comes with grieving for a lost loved one, wishing you could have just 5 more minutes with them. Except no one has died. It’s a sadness that reaches right down to my core.


          All the hype about the holidays portrays big, happy families gathered around each other, enjoying lots of food and presents, baking cookies, decorating trees together, small children full of excitement, couples building snowmen and having snowball fights, shopping and buying all sorts of things, and so on. All the images say we should be happy. But what about those who have no family near them and they have very small social circles? Or those who are unemployed and can’t afford to buy things for anyone outside of their immediate family? What about couples going through a divorce? Or those in abusive relationships and live in fear of saying the wrong thing? And, what about those who are not able to have children of their own?

Enjoying some quality time with my good friend’s kidlettes ♡


          David and I went to this one particular event together. A community dinner served by the Evangel Pentecostal Church that was followed by a selection of musical performances. There was another family at our table with their 5 year old little girl and she became the highlight of our night. The joy just emanated from her. She was wearing an adorable red dress, her hair in pig tails, complete with red bows. She was so happy, so excited, so … innocent. 

(Stock photo)

I had a lump in my throat the whole evening, making it very hard to swallow my meal. Santa came and called the kids up front and she was just vibrating with excitement. We watched her as she went up and as she looked over at her mom, waving as they took her picture, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. It felt like my heart was just shattering inside my chest. I had to excuse myself and blindly made my way to the bathroom, where I covered my mouth and spent a good 5 minutes sobbing, silently. After touching up my make up I went back to the table and sipped coffee as if nothing had ever happened.

I wear the mask quite well.


          Sometimes infertility hits ppl at the most random times and this christmas was one of those times for me. I feel like I have to keep it to myself because I know David deals with a lot of guilt about not being able to give me a child of our own. If he was to see me during these moments it would just make it much worse for him and I don’t want that. Except I also don’t like how isolating this is. I wish I knew how to turn this into something we could go through together. I wish I could let myself be vulnerable and let my own husband see those hurting parts of me. Except I retreat into my shell and hide … the only thing I’m actually good at.