My toxic trait is...

Narrative writing

nar·ra·tive

/ˈnerədiv/

noun

• 1.a spoken or written account of connected events; a story. 
• 
  

A story. 

In this case, the skill of completely building up an entire story about how someone else is feeling, what they're doing, what they think about us or how a situation is or conversation is certain to unfurl. Deciding that the passive aggressive post or comment was CERTAINLY about us or how we must not be worthy because someone didn't "show up" in a way that was would have "shown up" for them.

It's been a conversation we've been having often within the walls of our home lately.

My girls are becoming quite skilled in this area and to be fair, they come by it naturally. You see, I have a pretend Master's degree in it. 

As someone who yearns for security, has struggled with anxiety, and hates curveballs, my narrative writing has been something I've used to "get ahead of" any hard conversations or feelings or scary events, preparing myself for what I will say or how I will react. 

Oh, by the way, Empathetic, big feeling Enneagram 2 here. Nice to meet you. 

If I can completely write an entire "what if" scenario, then, when that icky thing inevitably happens, I'm not caught off guard. I'm "safer". I can't get AS hurt.  It is something I have honed and perfected over time as a defense mechanism.  It's self-protection. At least, that's what I've convinced myself of. 

What I've come to realize is, as I've worked to make this skill something "useful" for me, all it has really done is hurt me. Big time. 

In fact, it hasn't served me in any beneficial way at all. Narrative writing IS my toxic trait. 

What I've discovered through this realization has been three fold. 

1. What I think will happen never really happens:

The first thing I've realized is 99.9% of the situations or conversations I have "written" never actually turn out like I've dreamed up. I have caused myself immense fear, heartache and worry over something that just isn't likely to even happen.

That's logical. 

Of course they don't. Why? Well, first- I have a REALLY good imagination. I mean, REALLY GOOD! You should see how I dream or what I can create when I use that super power for good. 

But in this frame, I don't just dream up the basics when I start writing pretend conversations or scenarios. I go into full detail of who will say or do what, what they MUST be thinking about me right now or, in my deepest places, exactly how that plane will plummet from the sky in a barreling ball of fire and smoke and how I would save me and mine.  (Logic check- I know there is nothing I could actually do in that last example. Which is why I don't fly. 😂. Level 74 of aforementioned toxic trait. We will save that for another day).

The issue is, typically, when our brains go into Narrative writing mode, it's usually 0% logical or rational thinking. Okay, maybe like 5% tops because sometimes we write those stories based on past experiences in those spaces, but I don't think we can give it much more than that because our imaginations certainly make things a little more wild than what truth really is. 

In fact, in this very moment, I am fighting the urge to author an entire made up story as someone who normally communicates with me often has just... stopped. Cold turkey. I've reached out and had with no reply (but the message has been seen) which has prompted moments of spiraling thoughts on the why. 

I must have said something that made them mad, disappointed them, or they probably just don't like me anymore. Seem familiar?

Side note: This doesn't mean that there won't be times when you just come across someone who is just plain miserable, but that isn't for you to carry either unless you HAVE done something wrong and then you do need to go make it right. Even if right means that you can go separate ways, but the beef has been squashed so both of you can move on peacefully. 

Circling back to logical thinking, the truth is, they could just be busy or not need my help like they once did or could be going through some of their own junk, but I can't help but decide it must be a ME issue. 

Which takes me to my next discovery on why this is more harmful than helpful.

It's all about me.

I don't consider myself a selfish person, but this is one area where I make it all about me. 

Nearly every narrative I write has ME on the defense. 

"They must hate ME." "They must not like ME" . "I am not good enough". "I must have done something wrong." " Me, me, I, I and the cycle continues. 

As I decide for myself what is going on in someone's head or heart, I inadvertently rip myself apart,  nit picking everything I've said or done, trying to dissect it down to the root so I can then work how I need to deal with it, what I will say or not say, so I don't mess up again. 

Wait, wait, wait. Isn't this "skill" supposed to be about protecting me? Funny, isn't it? Well, not really funny. Sad. Really sad because this can also has a super fun side affect of triggering my anxiety which can send me into a tailspin of feelings and emotions that spill into other areas like my parenting, my beliefs in myself as a leader in my business or even my role as a wife and friend. 

Self-depreciating talk that leaves me feeling like an absolute failure in all the things. All because someone didn't reply to my text or didn't say hi at Walmart.

It couldn't POSSIBLY be that something is off because THEY are busy or have THEIR own things going on or are struggling with THEIR own junk. It's because I'm worthless. It must be ME. 

How unfair of me to do this to myself, but to them as well. 

Which brings me to my last discovery. 

It isn't fair to them either. 

As much as it isn't fair to my own heart to decide I am the issue, it isn't fair to them either. 

This is something I realized in talking with my oldest who, in her own narrative writing, decided that one of her close friends must not really like her because she invited someone else to do something with her instead of my daughter. She did her own little spiral of self talk & then started getting angry at her friend for what she THOUGHT she was thinking and doing.

Whoa nelly! Hold your horses! That's so unfair. 

In writing our own narrative, we don't only end up being insanely hard on ourselves, but we also are too harsh on others. We put words in their mouths, thoughts in their heads and can even vastly redesign their entire character simply because we can't get out imaginations in check. I've seen people literally throw away long time friendships based on assumptions they've dreamed up inside their own pretty little heads based very little on fact. 

It is so important in these moments that we stop & remember who it is we are talking about. Is how you're feeling about what you THINK they are feeling/saying/doing true to who they are?

Do they normally act like the crazy person you have created them to be?

Do they normally say or do the hateful things you've now created them to say or do because of your insecurities or fears?

No? Then stop putting that on them! Stop trying to convince yourself they are your enemy. STOP WRITING THE NARRATIVE. 

It's a lie.

This "act of self-protection" has been a lie all along. A device the enemy has used to trick us into thinking if we "got ahead" of the situation in our heads,  we'll be much more prepared to handle them in real life. Absolute bull snot. 

We not only end up damaging ourselves in this process by increasing our own fear & anxiety & treating our own minds and hearts with disrespect, but we end up treating others poorly too. 

Whether directly, by a lashing out with hurtful works after you spent weeks stirring up undue anger inside yourself because you already decided what they were thinking or feeling.

Or indirectly by cheating them and ourselves out of meaningful conversations and relationships because we've misjudged and mislabeled who they really are or their intent. All because we couldn't get our imaginations in check. All because we took a smidgen of experience or information & blew it up into a 5 part Lifetime series.

It isn't fair to anyone involved. You, them, anytime caught in between.

So how do we stop it? Well, I'm still figuring that part out. 

What I can share is when I do find myself starting to go "down the rabbit hole" I try to stop & ask myself these questions:

"Is that who they really are?"

"Is that who I really am?"

"Is that fact or what I think is true?"

"Is this logical or emotional?"

So far, I've been able to talk myself off the ledge by running through this list, but on the occasion that I haven't, I just do the hard thing and go have the conversation with whomever it is I feel a weird thing with. I throw out a "hey, are we ok?" or "so, I have a quick question because we know I'm crazy and I can't stop thinking about..." (a little light heartedness so it isn't as awkward) 

Want to hear some good news? To date, 95% of it was indeed all in my head! 😆 Of course it was.

Oh and that 5%? It's bene all easily solved with a convo the clear some miscommunication or confusion up. That's it! Whew! What a relief! 

So today, let me challenge you, as I continue to challenge myself to stop writing the narrative. We are not the Author.

Use that creative energy for good, not the bad.

Use that wild imagination for taking your kids on fun adventures or story telling or creating a life you love. 

Not for dreaming up what could go wrong, is going wrong, how you've done wrong or being wronged. 

There is no peace to be found is sitting inside the what ifs.  

Live inside the freedom that can be found in extending that grace to yourself and to others. 

Live inside the life you are living, not the version you try to write to protect yourself of what could come.

Do yourself a favor. 

Stop writing the narrative. 

From possibilities to panic...

Saturday was one of the hardest days I've ever had. Ever.
Saturday, I experienced my first panic attack.

Back in July, I attended our Scentsy Family Reunion and while there, really felt challenged by God to start stepping beyond where I was. There were a few areas I could see clear direction in and some steps I needed to take to start the process of letting go of control. One of those was to finally attend Superstar Director Summit in Meridian, Idaho, the location of Scentsy home office.
This meant flying. I was going to have to fly.

I HATE FLYING.

Hate doesn't even seem to be the right word. It terrifies me. Even having conversations about it will put a deep pit in my stomach.
But it was time to grow. God was calling me into a new place with Him and that meant I had to do this. So when I got home and registration opened, I very quickly counted down from 5 and signed up. I didn't book my flight right away. I couldn't yet. I needed the courage to build up and then to press launch so my mind and fingers would spring into action and reserve my spot on a plane.
A couple weeks passed and as prices increased, I knew it needed to get it done. (I'm sort of a frugal gal and hate wasting money...which becomes ironic later in this story).
So I jumped on the website, booked my flight and then cried for an hour afterward. Every scary thought and feeling rushed over me in record time.
But it was done.
That was that.
I was financially committed and that would have to serve as the motivation to get past the other junk.

I spent the next few weeks spending hours reading, watching listening to all sorts of things to help me get on to that plane. I wanted to be, deeply, where it would take me, I just didn't want to have to get there and back how I would need to.
I watched YouTube videos from pilots on what noises are okay and why flying is safe.
I read statistics and stories on how to overcome the fear of flying.
I listened to books on coping skills and how to take control of thought patterns.
I tried 3 different medications to try and find something to dull my nerves. None of them worked.
I prayed.
I worshipped.
I tucked Scripture away in my heart.
I stood in my prayer closet Friday crying out to God to take this coat of heavy fear off of me because I was tired of wearing it.
I rebuked the enemy of my soul and reminded him that I wasn't his.
Friends showered me with beautiful words of encouragement.
Gifts to give me strength and courage.
All do be able to do something MILLIONS do every single day.
Just to get on that plane to go to Idaho.

Saturday morning, I left early to drive to Dallas. A 5 hour drive just so I could take a direct flight. Just one plane.
On that car ride, I prayed, worshipped and listened to yet another self help book to make sure I was packed and loaded with every possible "skill" I could need to battle any feelings that would rise up. I went through scenarios and kept reminding myself to just walk on, get in your seat, buckle up and put your brand new noise cancelling headphones in, blast that new Hillsong worship soundtrack and remember that you are safe. You are Gods. He will be right there with you until you land safely on the other side.

I arrived at my dear friend Kathy's house...in tears. A sudden moment of anxiety left my chest feeling tight and fear to swarm me again. We sat on her back porch and talked. My heart rate slowed, my body relaxed and we decided it was time that we head out. In this time I also talked to my husband and my best friend who both poured reassuring words over me. I listened and decided I just needed to go and get this over with.

Kathy dropped me off at the airport, hugged me tight and reminded me it would all be good and she'd pick me up on Thursday, anxious to hear all about it.
I went through security in what is probably a consistent fliers dream. No lines. No waiting. Walked right through...only to be patted down because I left something in my pocket as I was fumbling to load the plastic tubs with my belongings.

My gate was straight ahead of me so I walked to the window, put my ear buds in and watched plane after plane take off.
With each plane I counted how many seconds after take off the wheels would go up that way when I felt or heard that happen, I knew what it was.
After some time, I went and took a seat across from my gate. I prayed and tried to again soak up the words in the songs I had playing in my ears.

And then it began. Like some little whisper getting louder and louder in my head and right now, I can't even tell you what they were saying. I don't even remember.
Boarding time came and my heart began to race. All of the sudden, it was like a countdown had begun. 30 minutes was all that was left.
The tears began streaming. People walked by with their luggage and stared. I'm sure they were curious as to who must have died for me to be so distraught.
I called my husband frantic and from that point forward, I remember very little.
I know he was trying to say all the right things. Words of affirmation and love and encouragement. As I spiraled deeper, he became more direct and assertive to try and snap me out of it. I was hearing him, but I wasn't listening. Everything was fuzzy and dark. Cold and dark.
All of the coping skills I'd practiced- gone.
All of the scripture I'd memorized- gone.
All of the knowledge of how safe I would be-gone.
It wasn't like I was trying to be my normal control freak self and not trust God in this.
I wasn't even in control. I literally had NO control over my thoughts or my body. It was like some messed up outer body experience.
The bracelet I wore on my wrist, that was reminding me to walk with courage and no fear of the future, you know, my focus verse for this year, Proverbs 31:25?
 I literally wanted rip off in hopes it would break into a million pieces.
All I remember saying was, "I can't. I can't. I can't" over and over and over again.
My heart was physically hurting. I was sweating. I was dizzy. I couldn't breathe.
I think my husband could tell I was in distress because he was having to remind me to take breaths.
I was experiencing my very first panic attack, alone in this giant airport with people watching,  which magnified everything times a bazillion.

I've always struggled with some sort of anxiety. Sometimes it is absolutely manageable and something it's harder, but always controllable to some degree. I always assumed that anxiety and panic attacks were the same(ish).

I no longer feel that way. This was different. WAY different. This was all consuming, choking, asphyxiating fear. Of what exactly? I couldn't even tell you. I don't know, but I was drowning in it.

As they called for final boarding, I got off the phone, took a huge, deep breath and forced myself to walk up to the beautiful woman standing at the gate taking tickets. I desperately searched for one of those danged "Skills" to talk myself down that hall and onto that plane, but everything went blank. Everything overshadowed by this dark cloud engulfing me.
I looked her straight in the eye, face tear stained and said, "I can't"

and I walked away.

The closed the doors and that was that. Fear won. The enemy won...

And I lost hard.

I called my friend who swiftly returned to the airport to pick me up. I called my husband to tell him I was coming home. I hated what I heard on the other end. He was sad for me. As he described it, it was like a coach who'd lost the game. Nothing he had said gave me the strength to get on that plane and I think he felt as defeated as I. I could hear it. He wasn't disappointed in me, but he was disappointed for me.

I spent the evening on the back porch with my friend. We talked about life, went to Walmart for snacks and ate pizza while watching Dick Van Dyke tell about being a part of Mary Poppins and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I think she knew it would me medicine for my soul. She was right.

I went to bed and wrestled with the day. Replaying what I could remember trying to figure out what went wrong. What was the turning point where I felt prepared, read up, praying up and ready to an ugly, wicked panic attack. I still don't know.

The next day, yesterday, I woke up feeling like my body had been in a car wreck. Every muscle aching and sore. My neck stiff and my head throbbing.  My stomach was in knots, I was nauseous and utterly depleted. I also had heartburn all danged day. All side affects of the MAJOR rush of adrenaline I'd felt the day before. The aftershocks if you will.


I made the 5 hour drive home, tired, weepy, and anxious for rest. My sweet girls welcomed me back with a sign on the door and precious hugs. My husband, ready to deal with whatever was left of me.
He quickly encouraged me to lie down and rest, for which I was grateful.

Oh how I wish I could have been the people who walked on to that plane like it was nothing, like the momma with her little baby, who wasn't worried a bit about whether she'd land in Idaho 3 hours later. Oh I wish my body and mind wouldn't have betrayed me so.
That's what I feel like right now. Like I've betrayed myself.
And that I've also let down every single cheerleader who was rooting me on. Like I took one step forward, trying to be brave, and tumbled down the rabbit hole, 100 steps back.
My heart aches. I'm constantly teary and I am mourning what this week could have been.
I wanted to be with my friends, I wanted to discover a new place and I wanted, most of all, to overcome this stupid, stupid fear.
But it won. It won big.

This time anyway.


So today, I've sat here in a place that feels so heavy. My body still recovering, my heart so sad and my brain so tired that I'm still having trouble thinking clearly.
 I don't want to give it the power by calling it depression, but it feels a whole lot like that.

I've cried out to my God, who is so unfailing and filled with so much love for me, asking why this happened. Why didn't all that preparation matter? Why didn't all those prayers work? Why did this darkness so easily envelope me when I had worked SO, SO, SO freaking hard to be ready? WHY DIDN'T IT WORK??????????????

I sit waiting for His answer. I know it will come. When? I don't know, but I hope soon.

I don't know where I go from here. If you're one of those people who loves flying or at least manages it ok, I applaud you. Truly. I wish I had your courage. I stand in awe of it.
I don't know when I'll try again, but I hope to someday. I hope this has not left a stain that cannot be washed away from my memory so that one day, I can do it again...and succeed.

For now, I wait to hear from God. I wait for clarity and I wait for this heavy weight of disappointment to fall from my shoulders. I'll take today to take care of my body and then will go back into motion again tomorrow running my business and taking care of my family.

There is no moral to this story and I am sorry if you were waiting, ready through line after line waiting for one. No "But then this happened..." shift in the narrative. I just needed all of these thoughts and words and feelings out of me. I needed to share it. I needed you to know so you didn't judge me for not being where I should be today.

There is no redeeming, full circle moment...YET

YET.

YET.

I'm just not there...YET.

Yet means there is possibility. So for today, I hold on to the YET.

If you really knew me...

When I chose my focus verse for this year, little did I know how much I would come to rely on it's words as a reminder of who I want to become. Speaking them aloud like a war chant every time I came to a struggle I was certain I couldn't face.
"Clothed in STRENGTH and DIGNITY.; she can LAUGH without fear of the future."

I want to become this woman and it seems that once I placed this into focus January 1st, the year has spent it's time challenging those very things. Beginning with surgery for endometriosis, to making the hard decision to leave our church of 16+ years, to knowing I need to make hard decisions for the sake of personal and business growth, even if they were scary (i.e. getting on a dumb plane)

Truth is, I've often felt weak...not strong.
I've not always CHOSEN to act dignified. I have a temper and it's ugly when I feel out of control.
Fear consumes me. Not just physical fear, like what I'm experiencing now as I get ready to take a flight in a few weeks that is gut wrenchingly terrifying me, but fear that I'm just not cutting it in every area of my life... and may never.
But I don't want to be those things. I want to be the Proverbs 31:25 woman and so I press on towards all she embodies. Strength. Dignity. Fearlessness.

I think it's easy for people on the outside looking in to think that I have everything together and I can take some responsibility for that because I work very hard to give off that appearance. Why? I wish I knew. It would sure take a lot of pressure off of me to not feel like I must, but I do. I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that a lot of people rely on me to be the solid one, both in my personal life and my business life, and so there is no room for anything else. I told a friend the other day that when we understand more about people and their stories, we are able to be more empathetic to why they function like they do and therefore, it can be easier to get along with them, realizing that they're just as messed up as we are.

So if you really knew me....

You'd know that I am constantly swallowed up in self doubt.
That I lie in bed every night, thinking over the day, dissecting every minute.
"How could I have handled that situation better?"
"Was I a good enough leader for my team today? Do I even deserve to be their leader?"
"Did I take care of my customers the best I could have? Do they even like me?"
"Am I totally screwing up this PTA president thing? They probably wish they had someone better."
"Did I scar my children for life with my words or actions when I lost my temper? They'll probably tell a therapist about today when they grow up."
"Will they want to be near me when they grow up or be so disappointed in how they were raised that they leave?"
"Was I a good enough wife today?"
"Being thinner/fitter would make me better."
"I should have eaten better/worked out"
"I should have done another load of laundry."
"Am I a good enough friend?"

If you knew me, you'd know that....

My first relationship with a guy was filled with a type of abuse that still makes it hard for me to connect with my husband in a healthy way and I carry intense guilt over it, even knowing it wasn't my fault. The only people that know this about me are a couple close friends and my husband. I've never made it public knowledge before for the protection of the other person, but for me to be able to let it go, I need to say it and not hide it.

I have childhood memories of a loved one's abuser doing/saying terrible things to her which makes still makes me guarded and untrusting.

That my husband and I have been fiercely close, multiple times, to not making it because I have a hard time letting him love me and in turn, don't love him well enough. I question constantly if I even know how to.

That a family history of mental illness haunts me. I am constantly concerned that I'm slipping and losing it and worry about what will happen when I finally do. Who will suffer the most?

That anxiety is my conjoined twin. I don't know how to function with or without it and that it shows itself is some of the most unflattering ways and contributes to everything you've already read about me.

That these things, and many other events, have formed the control freak you see before you who has a very hard time even letting the God she loves guide her. Being in control feels sometimes like all I've got to hold on to, not because I think I can do things better than anyone else.

That I am the MASTER at faking it til I make it.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I'm not writing this blog post at all for pity, sympathy or as an excuse for anything I've ever said or done.

I'm writing it because I need you to really know me. To see me for who I really am. Not the facade that I wear like a cozy sweater every day. Comfortable and easier than dealing with the hard stuff.
Because I want you to know that I'm working on me....constantly.
That when I fall short in your eyes, that I fell short in my eyes too and probably even shorter and I am my own greatest enemy.
That it's okay if you feel like I do too.
That it's normal..ish.
But it doesn't have to be normal and that's what God is revealing in me.
This doesn't have to be who I am.

And in this season, right now, in August of 2017, I am fighting all that this is. I am fighting to not be that person any more. I'm tired of wearing that sweater. I'm tired of the constant self judgment that I know is a tool the enemy has used to make me feel useless and like nothing over and over again. Every single day. Every time I lay down to sleep.
I don't want to carry past hurts and disappointments like tattoos on my heart or crutches making it impossible to run towards a future God is preparing.
I don't want to feel like I'm a failure in every area of my life because I can only see my faults as they overshadow the successes.
That my kids are incredible, smart and good people that love people and I'm can be okay with taking some credit for that.
That my marriage has survived 16+ years against the odds and will continue to if we work hard on it, even when it's at it's hardest to fight for.
That my team is strong and hard working and that I'll continue to be what I can for them, stretching, learning and dream chasing for and with them.
That my customers keep coming back and that must mean I'm doing something right.
That I may not be the best PTA President, but I'm present and trying and our school has seen some great things happen because that group is there.
That past hurts don't have to define my future.
That if I actually do go crazy, then none of this will matter anyway. 😆
That it's okay for me to go find help, counseling, and that's what I'm going to do. That doesn't make me weak, it just means I know a healthy life is worth fighting for.

That at the end of the day, I am in control of NONE of it and I should find rest in that instead of anxiety.

That I CAN be strong.
That I CAN walk in dignity.
That I CAN laugh without fear of the future.

Why?

Because God.

Because God knows who I really am and He loves me still and that trumps any other feelings I may have.

Because Jesus was crucified on an ugly cross to save me from all of these ugly things.

Because the Holy Spirit will sweetly remind me that I am worthy because He is within me. I need only listen.

Because who I really am right now won't be who I am forever and for that, I am grateful.

I will be  the Proverbs 31:25 woman.... some day.