I see you...

I do.
Every single one of you.
And I think about you.
About what could have been had you seen it in you too.
Had you been willing to give it more time, more attention, more heart.
If you'd quit listening to the outside voices and the inside voices too that told you this wouldn't work.
I think about the bills you could have paid off. The trips you could have taken. The lives you would have changed. The stories you would have had a hand in creating.
I see momma's who wanted better for their kids. I see women who desired connection & friendship. I see wanderers who couldn't wait to travel the world.
I see moments where past failures tainted the new opportunity.
Where self doubt spoiled the brewing potential.
Where mismanaged time become "I don't have enough of it."
I see you.
And it makes my heart ache.
Because it's in those moments, when I see you "checking out" of your dreams that I wonder what would have happened if those before me had done the same.
If the ones who pursued better for their own self had "checked out" before I had the chance to see what it could do for me.
Would we be here or would we still be swimming drowning debt & "insufficient funds" notices?
Would I still be lonely and depressed & aching for connection?
Would my daughter's have an example of doing things differently in their lives?
Would my marriage have even survived?
Would we have made it to new countries or even across our own?
Would we be living here? Driving this? Doing these things?
Would I even be a dreamer anymore?
What would have happened?

But they didn't. They didn't quit.
They pursued, pressed on & tried harder.
They worked for 'yes' when all they were getting were 'no'.
They ignored the "that will never work" and showed them that it would.
They did not check out on their dreams, but chased them with roaring passion.
Because they knew they were worth it. No matter the cost. No matter the fleeting moments of disappointment. No matter how long it would take. No matter what hills had to be climbed or what awkward "come to Jesus" moments it took with a leader who loved them.
They saw something in them that fueled them forwards and somewhere down the line, I saw it in me too. The hope for something greater and the courage to chase it.

So I see you.
and I still cheer for you.
And I still wonder what could have been...
If you'd only see it in you too.

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.

Everything was good...until it wasn't.

At the beginning of this year, I challenged myself to write every single. My only resolution of sorts.
Everything was trucking along just fine and then one day, I just couldn't write. Then that day turned into another and into another. I didn't feel good and the last thing I wanted to do was try and write pretending that I did.

This past Fall, I started having random days of just hurting. Deep in my abdomen that would often travel into my back.. I'd have it a few days, it would go away and I'd go on with life.
Then, last month, about the time I quit writing, the pain came back....and stayed.
Everything was good... until one day, it wasn't anymore.
Now, I am not one to go to the doctor. Ever. So I started trying to self diagnose.
I changed my diet,  took my vitamins, drank tons of water and nothing was changing. Well, it was, but it was just the pain getting worse.
I went to see my general practitioner about 2 weeks in because I couldn't take it any more. I was waddling when I walked because everything hurt. Even then, I didn't want to go, but I was out of ideas and needed relief.
She gave me an initial diagnosis, gave me an antibiotic and ran some tests. Tests came back fine and the medicine made the pain worse (and my sense of smelling was on another level and that was terrible. Let me just say, the world needs more Scentsy in it)
But I digress.
After another visit, more tests and no answer, I was referred to another doctor. He ran his own tests, did an ultrasound and those things came back fine. This was a moment to be thankful for because it meant there were no cysts and more importantly, no tumors and for that we give God glory.
But I was still in tremendous pain, getting dizzier each day, can't eat much, and get tired very easy. So what now? I felt like we were back at square one again and in a way, we were, but we also had some direction.
 After talking with my doctor, we have a pretty good idea we know what it is, but it's something that has to be seen to be diagnosed. No tests will show it. Only a camera and that means surgery.
So, on the 27th, I will go in for laparoscopic surgery to confirm what we expect. For the sake of my privacy and modesty, we will leave it at that. The hope is that the laparoscopy will show what we expect to be the case and we can continue forward with a treatment plan. We don't expect this to be anything life threatening, but something that will absolutely, one way or another, have to be dealt with.

Now, if you've been around me in the last few weeks, you may not have noticed anything was wrong. What you're not seeing is that I'm moving a lot slower, getting much less done in a day and am doing a lot of sitting or being still when I am around you. Also, I'm probably not around you for very long, because I'm anxious to get home to my heating pads. I'm also taking a higher dose of pain medicine to take the edge off. It makes me a little loopy, which could be entertaining for you, but not so much for me. All of this is what I like to call "Faking it until I make it".
It's not fair for me to burden those around me with my whining and at the end of the day, I still have responsibilities to fulfill, but they're all that gets done and nothing extra.

So why share this with you? Up to this point, I've been pretty private about it because well, that's just who I am. While I brag on my kiddos and share my business, talk about my shortcomings and praise my great God very openly, this was different.
But I learned something today that I think is important for anyone who is struggling to understand. Maybe not even so much learned, as chewed up and swallowed.

During this last month, I have prayed and asked God to make the pain stop. I mean, imagine feeling like you're having early labor contractions all day... every day. That's what I'm dealing with. It is both physically and mentally exhausting.
One day last week, I was climbing into my husband's truck and it hurt and I started crying. This led my oldest daughter to do the same. She is my mini me, so I had a pretty good idea of what was going through her mind. I asked what was wrong and she said she was scared for me. I told her all she needed to do was to keep praying that God would take it away. Her reply was. "But I am and He's not.". My how it hurt my heart for hers. I reminded her that God's healing comes in many forms. Sometimes by a sudden taking away and some times, because He gives doctors wisdom to take care of it. We just have to trust in whichever course it takes. How hard for her little faith to feel tested because she felt that her prayers for her mommy were going unanswered, but I understood. I felt the same way.
And then I began having trouble praying about it.
I just couldn't.
Words failed me.
It wasn't getting better, it was just getting worse and I didn't understand why.
The enemy really started using that against me and my prayers went from "God please take this away" to "God, I don't know what to say anymore." to "God, you know my heart".
How did I get to a place where I couldn't even pray for myself anymore?
I believe fully in spirit filled healing. 100%. I've seen it. I KNOW He heals, so why am I not being healed?
Then, when I went to my appointment yesterday, and surgery became the next step, part of me felt relief because hope was in sight and part TREMENDOUS guilt. Had I not been trusting God enough to take care of it?  Was I not praying right enough, often enough, asking the right way? Was surgery me giving up on His healing?  Was I sinning by having surgery? Typing these things out now, they seem silly. If I were hearing someone else say those things, I would immediately tell them those were all lies from Hell, but in that moment, that's not what I felt. I sat in the waiting room of the lab department for pre-op bloodwork and cried. I was scared. Disappointed. Worried.

But then, this morning, my sweet friend Carla called. I shared with her the fear I've been facing, the questions, the confusion, the downright angst. How was it that if this was anyone else, I would know what to say and how to pray, but now that its me, I feel bound? Helpless? Weak?
She spoke the most precious words into my heart and reminded me that all those feelings were from one source alone and that was the enemy. Clearly taking advantage of a tired momma who just wants life to feel normal again. A momma who feels like she's burdening her family and can't do much without feeling exhausted. He was the one convincing me that I wasn't loving God enough or trusting Him enough. God wasn't making me feel that way, satan was. Because I've been so ill, I've missed many church services which make my spirit feel even weaker. I'm trying to compensate by doing a devotional and listening to worship, but it's different. He knew that and it made it that much easier for him. Healing can come in so many forms and maybe this is the form mine will come in. It doesn't mean I've given up on God. It means I'm trusting that this is the way He intends to make me well and the fact is, there is still time for it to be made whole before surgery happens. If that's what God's plan is, awesome! If it's not, I have finally found peace in knowing that's okay too.

What I need to share with you to and is my whole point in sharing this is that when it comes to your physical, mental, spiritual, financial or relationship health, God is in it as long as you're letting Him be in it. He is moving on the scene and He is making a way for wholeness. It may be hard to see Him at work, but if you've taken that situation and handed it over to Him, then you have to be okay with whatever He decides to do with it. However He decides to do it.
That's the hard part for me. I'm a control freak. But I think this trial is part of His teaching me to let that go. His ways are always greater than ours. Every. Single. Time.
Healing and wholeness may not come in the form we expect. It could look totally different. Your job, my job, is to lay it at His feet, ask for His peace to fill our hearts and then let Him do His thing.

Secondly, when someone you love asks you to pray for them, really pray. I can admit there have been times where I have said I would pray and then got distracted or busy and totally failed that friend. Not on purpose, but because I wasn't being intentional.
What these last few weeks have shown me was that some times, when people are asking, it's because they're having trouble going before the thrown themselves. They feel speechless before God and need an intercessor. I want to never fail to intercede for another again. I have been resting in their prayers over me because I couldn't pray those words myself and I have been so grateful for them.

Having surgery is the right choice. I have peace in that now. Carla's words were medicine to my soul. Do I want to have it? No. Will I? Yes.
I know some of you reading this are probably thinking that this is just a small surgery (and it is) and that it really shouldn't be causing this much turmoil in my heart.  It shouldn't be, you're right, but it has been. I think when you've felt bad for so long, lots of things feel heavier than normal and if the enemy thinks he can take advantage of that. My cheeks feel tear stained, my eyes puffy and my body tired.

Carla reminded me that He is mine and I am His. The daughter of a King who loves me and will make me well again and in this case, through surgery. That seeking help isn't mistrust in Him. It's using the gift we have in great doctors,  good medicine and capable hands. That takes faith too.

So, if you're still reading this terribly long post, can I ask you to pray for me on the 27th and the days between now and then? For a safe and productive surgery that brings about complete healing and for my spirit to be quieted and listen for God's reassurance when the enemy tries to force feed his lies? I would be so grateful and in turn, will do the same for you.
Also, if you see my hubby or kids, give them some mad props for putting up with me. It hasn't been easy.
I don't even know is most of this made sense, but this is just my heart right now. If it didn't, well, then we will just blame the hydrocodone, k? K. :)