A New Way to Live

As you can see I changed my blog title and "About Me." More about that later (or maybe you will begin to understand after this entry).

I have been in a weird place lately, physically and spiritually, and consequently, emotionally. Last Saturday at church, I felt God telling me to go up and get prayer which, of course, I was very nervous about doing. After a kind man name Lawrie/Lori prayed for me, I guess I didn't know what to expect. Sudden restoration?

You may be wondering exactly what it is that is bothering me. Well, overall I am doing pretty well. But there is one thing that I have been obsessed with lately: food. No I don't overeat or nor am I concerned about my weight. After reading a book called The Food Allergy Cure by Dr. Ellen Cutler and talking with my friend Becca and others with food sensitivities I have determined I am doing something wrong with me eating. I have struggled my entire life with headaches, for almost 10 years with depression, and for many years with other things, so I thought, why not go gluten free? But it has turned into an obsession. (As always, whenever I want to do something potentially good it gets out of control as my thoughts/obsessions become uncontrollable).

Anyway, I am reading this book by Larry Crabb and naturally the title is appealing. My whole life is about pressure, basically due to perfectionism, with which I have a love/hate relationship. I am always trying to do things right at all times. NOw it has to do with food. Well, anyway, Crabb is not necessarily a great writer but his book is simple and to the point. His basic point is "There's a New Way to live" in which we are not contstantly striving, trying to find all the answers, trying to find causes for everything, trying to be perfect. BUT I am still trying to figure out what the New Way is he talks about (I am little over half way through the book). He basically has said thus far that we need to make Christ our number one priority-easily said, obviously. (Ironically, Crabb seems to present the "answer" to our problems when in the first place, he says we shouldn't be seeking the answers!)

He talks about how we are taking advantage of Christ when we have an "If/then" mindset, "If I do these things, You will then deliver me out of this problem, give me this blessing, etc." This all is simply stated and makes sense. But my question is, God is not going to blatantly say, "Brittany, you have these food sensitivities." I need to to use the brain he gave me to find the answers! Right? I feel this is in my power like I could possibly find the answer to my problems, particularly depression which has created all my other problems, I believe.

Maybe some people reading this might think, Why is she so concerned about all this? I do sound kind of obsessed with myself. But I have come to realize the importance of our bodies and how for me personally, everything I eat contributes to my mood, physical symptoms, etc. But maybe I have taken it too far. Should I just accept my depression as part of life? As I thought I already had. But after reading the Food Allergy book, I thought, "What if..." What if something I have been eating my whole life is causing it? In Crabb's mind, I maybe should not be searching for the answer.

I think there is some sort of middle ground here. But I am so stuck as always in my black-and-white, all-or-nothing thoughts.

Then there's the whole gluten-free (or low gluten) I have tried to do for the past few days. I am quite irritated because nothing has really changed. In fact, it may have gotten worse. Yesterday and today I experienced INTENSE sudden fatigue after having gotten good rest the night before. And have been having headaches almost every day for two weeks now. Anyway, I am sure nothing's wrong, but the GF has not improved anything, plus I can't afford this diet and I miss bread too much.

Is Escaping Wrong?

It's been forever since I have written. Frankly, a blank page scares me because that's when I have to really think deeply. And I am terrified of what I know is there when I look inside myself. Since I am tired I am going to borrow a bit from a journal recently I wrote about what is going on with me.

I am making myself write because I don't want to. At least I think I don't. I don't look forward to confronting the stuff that is happening inside this brain. Lately I've been getting by with my addictions, namely my novel reading. I love getting lost in the characters' problems. I love forgetting myself by going to another world. I know this isn't wrong to a degree. I've been reading Jodi Piccoult, whose books deal with intense, moral and controversial issues. Hard to put down! She covers themes like self-esteem, popularity, dysfunctional families (whose isn't?), grief, loss, revenge, redemption, betrayal and faith/spirituality. I've learned a lot from her books and I look forward to reading them each day.

But I often feel ashamed or guilty because the themes are so heavy and I tend to become rather anti-social when I read a really good novel (or am otherwise immersed in something deep and passionate, like card-making or writing for example). I don't like coming back to real life because I always know what's going to happen. Lately, I feel guilty because I am not practicing my mindfulness or "with it" skills. That and I am beating myself up for not reading the Bible or having a "quiet time." (What does that mean anyway????) Reading these books has kept me "safe." By that I mean, less bad thoughts, because I am frankly thinking less about my own problems. But it also means, I feel very out of sync. Like I am not even really alive. And that I've been treating others in my life poorly.

I tried to take a break in between the last novel I finished and the current one. So for two days I forced myself to read my Creativity/spirituality book and write in my journal. And it just made me mad and anxious.

The reason I am escaping has to do with, as I said, my thoughts. They are not fun.

As a rule, I try to moderate everything that I do. I am always concerned that I am doing everything right (not too much of this, not too little of that.) I know, I hate that about me but I am not about to start judging my judging, so I will accept that my perfectionism makes me ugly at times but try to accept it.

But I will also thank God for his good and wonderful gifts of creative people who write engaging stories...and many other things. And trust that He loves me no less if I happen to be annoyed with Christian judgements going on in my head, so much to the point that I am resentful of He Himself and the Bible itself. (More on this in another entry).

Well, I am going to go to bed now.

What is on my Mind

Well, I had an interesting day today. A friend of mine, Bethany, ended up subbing at the same middle school with me and we actually team taught (I was the regular math sub and she was the ELL sub) just for one period. It was fun to see her and have someone to eat lunch with! Bethany and I go way back, but anyway, that's for a different day. IT was very bizarre for me to be "working" with her...She said the same thing.

Unfortunately, my day kind of went downhill after that. It is a very hard school, with students that are ethnically diverse and have lots of behavior problems. That probably would not be an issue if the periods weren't 85 minutes AND I did NOT recieve a prep (break) period NOR did I get paid for it. But I stuck it out and now I am fried. The last period was so intense. Kids talking, shrieking, laughing, yelling, coming in and leaving, throwing things, breaking things, all the while, I am trying to keep them on task. Luckily, there were kids from the high school that were helping. But I still felt like everything was going crazy. I spent the entire day taking huge deep breaths, but, of course, I messed up a lot. At the end of the day, a very large boy really scared me and ended up acting really inappropriately with a female student, so I got him out of the room. For the last fifteen minutes of the day, students were supposed to be cleaning up the trashed room. There was a broken sharpener smashed, little blue pieces all over the floor. Ripped papers. One student dumped a pile of ripped up papers over the head of another girl. Another girl dumped a bunch of little pieces of papers from her desk onto the floor. No idea why. It was-to say the least-chaotic. I found myself going into my usual out-of-body state. Like I was watching something out of a movie. I can't control it, but it is definitely real. The best part was getting my name changed from Ms. Bettger to Ms. Butt. Like they literally erased my name on the board and wrote that. Haha. I am just glad no one got seriously hurt and that my day is over. I made sure to leave a nice long note for the teacher, as I usually do.

Even though it was hard, I am now home and can laugh about it and know that I don't have to go back if I don't want to. (But I probably will.)And I was able to sit and relax on the deck on a beautiful afternoon with my roommates! And, believe it or not, the hardest days I have subbing, usually CANNOT compare with how EVERY SINGLE day was for me as a teacher of inner-city Kindergarten last year, that being, COMPLETE HELL. Yes, it's hard to believe I made it through nine months alive! THat's why I try to take these days as a treasure, these days I can come home, with no lesson planning, grading, classwork, parents to deal with, awww, yes. I can just relax, at least try to! Although I still feel like a failure a lot of the time as a sub and want to do a perfect job, I usually forget about it, whereas last year, I had a very unsupportive principal to deal with who was always breathing down my neck. (No wonder I didn't last at that school).

Another thing on my mind is, as always, marriage and babies. Yes, I found out when she showed up today, that my friend Bethany is having a baby. She and her husband got married last July. I am happy for them. I just still cannot believe it...(you would have to know the history behind me and Bethany but that is a book to one day be written !) A few years ago, I never would have guessed where she and I are today.

Besides just the wierdness of being with Bethany in a school classroom, I have to say I had a very familiar feeling of ... envy (that she is pregnant) ... creep over me subconsciously and tried to push it away. Again and again.

In fact, I laid in bed last night and thought (again) of all the young women in my life who have found their "perfect someone" and are now trying to or are having children. I tried so hard to pray for forgiveness for perhaps having negative thoughts toward them, but I could not help but feel the intense but very familiar pain. OF not measuring up. Even though, in my MIND, my worth has nothing to do with my status as a single, it will take maybe til my dying day to understand this in my heart. Especially when you work in a profession in which everyone is a woman, and all they talk about is marriage and baby raising...

Bleh. Deep breath. I need to find some single women who share my pain! Luckily the tears aren't burying me alive like they were last night.

On Being Single

I am going to write about something quite personal. Not that anyone reads this, but I hope it encourages maybe at least one person. I have recently decided to stop dating. At least at this time in my life. So here it is: I am single, and increasingly, I am proud of it.

This is how I ended my personal journal/prayer today: "I never dreamed I'd be here. Sitting alone on my bed age 25 1/2, no husband or kids, no full time job, college loans not paid off, living in a dark, warm, rattly basement room with two single 30-something women. And I'd never dreamed that I'd be, what was that, content?"

That is, almost content.

I am so sick of mommy blogs. Okay, so when I find myself not working like today (again), I read blogs, a lot of them written by married women with young children. I have some favorites that you can find on my blog roll. I like them because they are entertaining, yes, the kids are adorable, and I like getting ideas for cooking, crafts, etc. Some I read so often, I feel like I almost know the people. But when I look at these blogs, bad thoughts play in my head at times. Bad thoughts I have come to find quite common.

That is me, that is supposed to be me.

Who ever said I was supposed to be them anyway? Well, this is a very touchy subject. But the pain, thanks be to God, has ever decreased over time and I can talk about it now.

It goes back to what a lot of you women remember growing up. Well, for as long as I can remember, I wanted to have babies. I've come to realize it's because my mom was the oldest of five kids, my dad in the middle of four, and so there were always women having babies in our family. I just loved them. I remember for a long time, there was a new baby every year in our family (on either or both sides). I was a typical little girl, with lots of dolls. As I grew up it turned into, my goal in life was not only to have babies, but to find that "perfect someone" to have babies with. Okay, so it wasn't my number one goal, but it was ALWAYS in the back of my mind in my early teens, then into high school and college. Especially as I came to realize when many of the women (grandma, mom, aunts) met and married their spouses. Quite young. Met in their teens and married by age 20 or 21.

As a child, I idealized women and, regrettably, I still do. (That's why this blogging business can be dangerous.) My mom, aunts, cousins, grandma, teachers, babysitters, and all the women in my favorite movies and shows, especially Dr. Quinn, Laura Ingalls, and Anne of Green Gables.

With all these women, there was usually one similarity. They had a man. And if they didn't (by a certain age), something was wrong with them. You see, one of my biggest fears is that people might see me the way I saw single, unmarried women. AS a child, I remember feeling pleasure that a teacher was "Mrs." but if she was "Miss" or "Ms." something must be wrong. If the teacher was "Ms." that meant she was divorced and if she was "Miss" and not reasonably young I would think, "Why is she not married? Is she not pretty enough?" blah blah blah.

Somehow in my thoughts and observations as a young girl, I came to believe this is what it means to be beautiful and worthy: to have a wonderful man at your side and to have his babies. While I still struggle now to dismiss this as a lie, I am so proud of how far I have come!

I still wonder when I see beautiful women how or why they are single. But then I am reminded, Oh yeah. I'm a beautiful woman and single. (In fact, I've been asked this so many times in my life.) So in a way, it's kind of nice to have support and be supported by people like me.

That brings me to a point of frustration: I wish there were more blogs out there that are written by people like me: mid 20s, single, and not that content about it! It seems almost every blog is young, married and trying to get pregnant; young, married with kids; or older 30s, married with kids. There are a few that are young and newly engaged or married, and even fewer that are college age. Even less I have found are older than 40. Okay there are a few that are single and 20s, but they seem more the partyer hard core type, not the traditional-at-heart like I am. While I enjoy reading all different types of blogs, it would be nice to find a few like mine! (But at least I have my friend Becca's blog. She and I are kind of in the same boat, I think!)

Thanks for listening to my scoop on singlehood. If you're there, hang on, I understand!

Success

Just read an article called "How to Practice Safe Optimism" by Tamar Chamsky.Here's a link to the whole (really good) article. I could write a blog entry about each one she lists, but today I will just stick with one:

Strategy Five: Define success flexibly: Value process, not just product An optimist hopes for the best, but has realistic expectations. There isn't just one bull's eye of success and everything else is failure. This usually means girding ourselves for slow progress and defining success broadly. When we set unrealistic expectations we manufacture unnecessary disappointment that we then have to waste our precious energy overcoming--it's an additional hurdle which we don't need right now.

This reminds me of what I read in Never Good Enough (a book about perfectionism) and what I learned in DBT about black and white thinking. Currently I am working on "cognitive restructing." Due to my perfectionism, personality and other things, I tend to have really distorted expectations for myself.

Success has been defined in my mind in black and white terms. Such as, "Your teaching licensce was non-renewed. Failure." "You're single with no children at age 25. Failure." "You don't have a 'real' job. Failure." "No graduate degree. In fact, no idea what you want to do with your life. Double failure." I could keep going but this isn't helping things. SO I have to change these thoughts into degrees. Such as "You survived two years teaching inner city teaching. Success!" and "You will make a better wife and mother one day because of your committment to healing of self and waiting until you are older and wiser. Success!"

More on this later.

I am so Sick of Trying so Hard

More about this later but I will share the lyrics of a song that I like, that kind of talks about this waiting period I am in. I need to let Him be Who He is and realize this trying is just pushing me into a deepr feeling of insanity

The Altar and the Door
-Casting Crowns

Careless, I am reckless
I'm a wrong way traveling, slowly unraveling, shell of a man
Burn out, I'm so numb now
That the fire's just an ember way down in the corner, of my cold, cold heart

Lord this time, I'll make it right
Here at the altar I lay my life
You're kingdom come and my will was done
My heart is broken as I cry....

Like so many times before
I flood my eyes
I try before I leave the floor
Oh Lord I try...(I'll try)
but this time Jesus how can I be sure
I would not lose my follow through
between the altar and the door

Here at the altar
Oh my world so black and white
How could I ever falter
What you've show me to be right

Lord this time (Lord this time)
I'll make it right (make it right)
Here at the altar I lay my life
You're kingdom come, but my will was done
my heart is broken as I cry

Like so many times before
but my eyes, are dry before I leave the floor
Oh Lord I try... (I'll try)

but this time Jesus how can I be sure
I would not lose my follow through
between the altar and the door

I'm trying so hard, to stop trying so hard
just let you be who you are
Lord who You are in me

Not Me! Monday!

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.


I did *not* text my boss and try to get out of a shift. Whoever heard of doing that these days?

I did *not* step on it just so I wouldn't get passed in the left lane because I just love it when people don't give you the opportunity to get over and go crazy mad if you don't change lanes IMMEDIATELY.

I did *not* go 100 texts over on my parents and my family plan. Because I am one to actually hold a conversation with people. Why do people text anyway?

I did *not* pack my lunch for today, dinner for tonight, prepare my coffee for tomorrow, and pack my lunch for tomorrow all by 1:00 p.m. today. Because I am not a planner or overachiever and I just like to fly by the seat of my pants.

I did *not* help my dad get the Christmas tree down off the top of the garage using a rake to push it and slide it, neither did I whine and complain that my neck was hurting when he was the one who has chronic pain and the 150 lb tree was falling directly on top of him.

I did *not* spend 3 hours choosing, saving, and trying to position pictures on a page to print for the Christmas presents I am working on. Because of course I am NOT a perfectionist and I don't waste time on such things.

I did *not* refuse to help my mom decorate her Christmas tree (the one that I didn't help get down). Because I love being nostalgic and Christmasy and would never refuse to spend time with my dear mother who lives 200 miles away.

Dumping Ground

Can feelings tell you any sort of truth? Because for all I know they are not a gift but a steaming sword aimed for your heart, right from the evil one. Because even when I am feeling the good ones, I know they won’t last. Because they will just get demolished by the ones that eat and rip out my insides, make my mind boil in agony and my skin crawl in irrational sweat. So unhuman. I feel this for even seconds and know I am in trouble if I feed into this feeling. They continually attack me, but I guess it’s not the feeling as much as the thought that started it all. Or is it the feeling first? And which is evil, if not all, or is it I that is evil? I cannot stop because I am a mack truck spiraling down an incline and a tornado burrowing over those I care about the most flipping them over, drowning them in the undertow. And yet, I am me. And I feel these feelings to be me. But not all the time.

Inside where no one can see, I see my self. The self I hate and know is not my real self. But I sometimes glimpse the real person I am and want to be. But the dark and eery creatures eat the real me alive and I am screaming, yelping to not drown under their cackling bodies. I literally call out “Jesus” but I must not be doing it right because they just come right back. Again and again when I least want them there. When my relationships just begin to mend and I feel like I once again have a purpose. I am burned and all I can see is that it was me.

But I want to celebrate this moment of peace I have been given. I don’t know why Satan chooses to come at one time and not another. Or is it because I am stronger now? I don’t think so. Is it because my chemicals are more balanced? Probably, but that might have nothing to do with the fact that I took my medication. All I know is I can’t see past this wretchedness. I can just see a whirlwind cycle. Up, down, pow, bam-bam-bam, circling, sniping, swimming back, forth. Then up, down, pow. All over again. And your mind is telling you you have to do something about it. But all you can do is slump over with a sigh because trying has just led to failure, again and again and again. And the Church is saying we don’t have to defeat Satan because he’s already been defeated on the Cross. Blah, blah, blah. What does that mean? What do I DO? How much is spiritual and biological or should I just assume it’s biological because the spiritual has turned it that way?

Am I eternally flawed? Is God looking down on me asking, ‘When will you get it?’” I really hope I get it soon. The God I know and love wouldn’t say that, but why would he really want us to be this desperate, hopeless and confused. I feel like I seek him, ask him for help so much he is probably so tired…and like, "Okay. I’ve already told you the answer. Are you really listening?!” Or does he say, “Just hang on. Just a little longer. The pain won’t last too much longer. You’ll only fail this many more times.” I am so damn tired of hanging on, God! I want it to be real and better. And I want to know my feelings as something more that just fleeting seeds flitting about by each breath of wind, knocking the air out of you as they pass by. I want to know hope and freedom. And not just today; but forever. Some people may say it's a choice. I would like to believe it too. Wouldn't I have chosen it by now?

Labels

Labels have always been a big part of my life because they have given me worth. Sad, but true. In each stage of our life, we have been given labels. It started with the family labels: daughter, sister, granddaughter, cousin, neice. Also, as long as I can remember, I was a "Christian." In school I was a "musician" and "good student." Those were usually positive labels but came with their own stigmas. Within myself, I was a "worrier" and a "perfectionist." Enter mental illness. (Well, some don't believe depression to be a mental illness, but regardless...) Starting as a late teenager, I knew myself as a "depression sufferer." Into college, along with the depression stigma, I gave myself a lot of other names, a lot of them having to do with Christianity and depression. The funny thing was the expectations I had for myself as a "Christian" and "depression sufferer" didn't seem to overlap often. I would get quite frustrated that I couldn't work my way out of my thinking boxes.

In college, I had new labels: "sister-in-law," "girlfriend", "youth leader," "professional", and "teacher". I dreamed of others: "aunt," "wife," "mom," ("stay-at-home-mom"), "college graduate" and "depression-survivor." When some of my "dreams" didn't come to be, I felt like a failure. I overlooked the fact that I was indeed a college graduate, a practicing teacher, a growing Christian, loving friend and thriving in the aftermath of a wretched illness. Instead I focused on what I was not.

Today, in my personal journal, I reflected not just on my changing labels, but those of people in my life. A few of my friends and my cousin are going to be moms, some have become teachers or missionaries. As a college-graduate, the number one question I get asked is (after they find out that yes, I have graduated), "What do you do?" I used to always say, "I am a Kindergarten teacher." But even then, I wasn't too proud. But at least it was something. Now I don't know what to say. I guess I could say a "teacher in transition." Because of a new job, I have acquired a label of PCA (personal care attendant). But PCAs aren't real jobs. They're transition jobs, usually people do them while they look for their real job, what they went to school for. I am not saying I look down on what I do; I am just saying, this is what society says.

I am learning to hate labels. Maybe some are inevitable such as a job title or the fact that I am a Christian. (That is, I am a "follower of Christ"--the literal meaning of the word, but I don't always like to associate with Christians). Some labels I am working on changing or "reframing." Maybe all that takes is to tell myself, "I am healing from depression, but I am not my depression. And not all the decisions in my life have to revolve around this."

Then there's the lack of labels, the ones I'd always wished I'd have by now at age 25: "wife" and "mom." This, I admit has been a struggle as I weekly hear of marriages, pregnancies and births of my friends/family members. (While I truly am happy for them, the Devil likes to come in and lure me away from happiness and towards myself with his lies.) The truth is, my worth is NOT dependent on my marital status. Yeah, yeah, it's so easy to say but I have to cling to this, looking back at all the wonderful things I have been given and saved from. I used to think "I don't want Jesus to come back before I have gotten married and have had children." I have grown so much since then! Life is not about your role in life. I am so selfish to think I deserve to be married and have kids, or whatever. I don't believe Christ wants me to suffer as I wait, rather he joins me in my suffering. If I grow closer to him because of this wait, then that will be a much greater gift then any other. Because of his mercy and clarity in my life, I am happy to say that I am comfortable being single (unmarried) much of the time.

While I still have dreams, I try not to let the labels that come with these dreams define who I am. I end up only more scarred and empty. The only label I now want is "daughter of the King."

Numb

Sometimes I wonder how I can "act as" or be a professional, when, at times I look in the mirror and wonder who I am. I see a pretty face, nice cute hair and smile, a beautiful creation of God. But is that really who I am? I have always been good at acting. Don't get me wrong. I am not acting happy. I am generally happy, or at least at peace.

Mostly I am in this numb state of mind. There is a sheet of glass I am looking through. Somewhat clear but mostly distorted and I just choose to look the other way. While I am hopeful--it's a sort of surreal-hopeful--about my new jobs starting up, I haven't dealt with another large part of my life, that being the current relationship I am in. I frankly don't know what to do or say, so I just let it be. Do I have to make a decision? What decision is that? All I can think of is this song lyric "Should I stay or should I go?"

I was reading in this book about perfectionism that perfectionists tend to have a lot of self-doubt, which makes decision making quite challenging. They generally don't mind putting something off until "no decision is made or the decision is made by default." In this process of "ambivalating," perfectionists are sometimes grateful when others make decisions for them. That describes me to a "T." The only problem is, no one can really make a decision about my relationship. No matter how much I talk to God, I don't hear Him clearly, except that "I will never leave you." But will he ever tell me if I am dating the right person?

As with every problem in my life, I am constantly searching for answers, whether in books, from people I love and respect, from the Bible, from Dr. Phil, from my therapist, from within myself. I literally cannot REST until I have some sort of ideas. Well, I am now so full of ideas that I have become comatose--unable to think or release. So there I sit. Can't make a decision so I just keep praying and living.