Real Me, Right Now: out of the storm, waiting in hope

So I have to confess, I was surprised this week...

When I started the recent series on vulnerability (#RealMeRightNow) talking about things I'm actively struggling with right now, rather than past tense - I expected it to be good for me.  I even expected it to feel a little weird, awkward, or perhaps even a little exposed.

I was not expecting the internal chaos that ensued.  The larger, more central issues, which were illuminated and laid plain by simply opening up that door.

I was not expecting to feel undone.  And to have the torrential downpour of emotions that I was unaware were reigning (see what I did there) under the surface suddenly flood externally.

I was not expecting the anger and ugly and loneliness and tears that I found.

I was not expecting the guilt and insignificance that I would feel at voicing current struggles when there are so many bigger issues out there that I should be wrestling with instead.  Or the ways in which I would want and need others to come alongside me.

But.

Neither was I expecting the catalyst that it would be for change.  The ways that it would force me to face things that otherwise would have remained under the surface, lost under diaper changes, meals, day-to-day busyness, and this most recent Snowmaggedon.  The ways that it would require me to step back, go off-line and talk things through with my husband, my closest friends, and with God.  The ways that community - true friends - would rise up around me.  The ways that I would have to make a choice - step in, or step back - true consolation or false - hope or emptiness.  The invitations for growth that I would receive as a result.  And the good, forward moving conversations with Jon that would occur.

Suffice to say, this has been a hard week.  A risky one.  A lonely one. And one with many tears.  But a rewarding one, as the chaff burns away and the heart is revealed and refined.

All in all, I think it's worth it - every bit - to be honest and open (with discretion) in the here and now, the good, the bad, and the in yet-to-be-determined.  How's that for a promo?  But for real.  I mean that.

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As a disclaimer, I firmly believe that one should never become consumed by solely ones own personal struggles.  They are minuscule compared to the larger issues at play in our world.  I can name for you countless other things that are more significant, more blog-worthy, and a better use of space and time, than my personal struggles.  This is a fact. And I will and do and will continue to, write about those often as well. But.  And I am wholly convinced of this - until we face ourselves - until we wrestle with our own demons, our words about larger issues, will largely fall empty.  Those who are the most effective in addressing and facilitating change in the world, and calling out the best in others, are those who are neither captivated by nor ignorant of their own hearts and struggles.  They are the ones who have faced themselves, know themselves, and are committed to the work of transformation beginning with themselves first and foremost.   The wrestling with the rest will follow out of a heart that is willing to be softened, willing to listen, willing to be changed, and willing to act.

So yes, friend, it is worth the space and time to begin with yourself.  Don't end there. Don't stay there. But absolutely begin there.

So here's where I am, and what I'm learning, realizing, and struggling with, right here, right now:

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Being a stay-at-home mom is an incredible gift - it is also an incredibly lonely, and often thankless job.  I love it, and wouldn't trade it for the world - it's the most full and beautiful job that I've ever had, but it's also the hardest job I've ever had - and it's nearly impossible to feel like you are succeeding in it.  As someone who is often times not super in touch with her feelings, the reality is, in the haze of young children,  I haven't really taken a good evaluation of myself lately, haven't noticed how hollow I have been in the absence of external evaluation and affirmation - until this week, as I attempted to give voice to present struggles.  As I voiced my own need for affirmation, all of a sudden, it was as if the external scaffolding of "I'm fine" and "if I can't see it, it's not there" was pulled back and without it, the internal void was revealed.  I was, and am, a mess.

//5

And I have never felt so alone.

It was as if all of a sudden, the last 7 months of not really noticing, or paying attention to my heart, feelings, and needs in the midst of caring for the needs of two very adorable but needy little people - the last 7 months of the beautiful and oh so good but often times lonely task of stay-at-home parenthood - came into full view, washing over me like a heavy flood of ugly tears.  Pair that with a toddler who has recently discovered his will, the word "no" shouted at high volume, and the value of a good temper tantrum, and an infant who is newly crawling and once-again teething, and let's just say that there were lots of tears in our household, all around.


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In the midst of that, a lot of anger began to rise to the surface, in particular with a few very close friends and even my husband.  How could they not notice?  After all the ways that I have gone out of my way to care for them - why had they not cared for me in tangible ways?  Why hadn't he fixed this? Why were they missing me now, as I reached out online, and directly?  In the midst of my loneliness, and need for affirmation, I began to lash out (in my heart and head - the wisdom of processing space and discretion was still present, thankfully) at those that I felt should have been there.   Should have noticed.  To blame.  To be jealous of the affirmation and encouragement that these and others received where I felt a lacking.  And to feel in my heart the very strong desire to cut off ties, to push them away, and to rage with all the pent up emptiness and hurt that I was feeling.  It was/is ugly, friends.  Really ugly.

But.  Praise the Lord, there is a But.

But, as all of this, all of my ugly, my heart, and my under-the-surface emptiness and storms began to rage in the open - all of a sudden, I had to deal with it.  I could no longer ignore it, be ignorant of it, or "just wait for it to blow over."  This is one of the gifts and the beauties of vulnerability:  it opens a door for the winds of change to begin to blow.  Until we face ourselves, change and healing can only be in part.

I had to choose: push through by myself (because that was working really well, from my puddle on the floor complete with toddler companion and infant scavenger) or invite local, every-day, in person friends to see my heart, my needs, and my mess, and allow them to care for me? To pray for me.  To encourage me.  And to point me back to what is true.

The friends (and Jon) that I invited in, they did.  They cared for me.  In real and tangible ways.  And it was, and is, a beautiful gift.  They watched my children, they prayed for me, they spoke truth over me, they hugged me, and they let me rage in healthy ways.

I had to choose: hate my friends who had not seen me, not known what I was going through and not cared for me well in that or deal with my own inner void.  Allow Jesus to redirect my neediness to him, and let Him meet it, speak into it, and give me wisdom for how to deal with the feelings of hurt from friends.

As I turned inwards, and looked towards my own heart, my own void, and my own needs - it became clear that the larger issue was my own void, and not the absence of those friends.  In fact, it became clearer to me, that they were in their own trenches and rough patches.  That their absence had nothing to do with me - that they simply were preoccupied with their own chaos.  And I began to hear the invitation from Jesus, to simply love them wildly, and in the ways that I longed to be cared for, without requiring reciprocation.  To see them, and move towards them, rather than away.

Please hear me, truly, that I am not opposed to confronting a friend in love - in fact, it often is my first impulse, and often, when done for their sake not mine, is the first step to fighting for a friendship and truly loving the friend - but in this place, it has felt like it is neither true to what God is doing in me, nor true to what God is doing in them.  Instead, the invitation for me was one of trust, and pressing in, in radical love.   This is an active journey, as I struggle to figure out what that means.

Like Elijah, I am in the cave, waiting for the Lord's presence, His question, and His answer.  I am still lonely.  Still needing a renewed understanding of who I am and how I am loved.  The void is still there.  And I am still waiting.

But in truth and vulnerability, it has been laid bare.  And in the now-apparent emptiness, there is all-of-a-sudden space, and light, and opportunity for growth.  And so now I wait.

But instead of with anger, it is with hope.  And an invitation to love.

Instead of alone, it is in the company of friends.

And that is a gift.

#RealMeRightNow