Messy Monday; Candy Corn, Making A Difference, and Being Mean

I am eating slowly but I didn't count our a serving size.

Today's Messy Monday is brought to you by a slightly over-wound middle aged woman huffing the lavender mist being released by her diffuser, intentionally nibbling candy corn instead of gorging on it like feed corn in a trough (I LOVE candy corn), while sitting criss-cross-applesauce next to the dog on the bed.

Thinking about this past week I am more than a little disturbed. There is a lot of messy happening in our world, country, states and cities.

The world messiness I pray for often but don't feel there is a lot of impact I can make, Nationally, I am heartbroken by what's happening in our conversations concerning predators, offenders, and victims. While I can pray for an appropriate outcome for those in the public eye, I choose to dial in to the difference I can make here, in my home, community, and sphere of influence.

We need to SEE each other and HEAR each other. When you see someone in trouble, do you get involved or stay out of it? Do you ask questions or back away slowly? Do you respond with compassion?

Sometimes I feel this surge of confidence as I walk right into an obviously tense situation and say, "May I help you?", other times, I step aside, pray, watch and wait for the nudge to move forward into the area of concern or the peace to step away. I have never been particularly compassionate. I care about people and I prefer to shoot straight instead of politely, gently, cautiously, causing you to consider you might want to think about a different course of action.

Before I started my business (I'll add the link when my new website goes live, but message me in the meantime if you want to know more), I was teased by my co-workers about naming it "Kick Ass Coaching", We regularly laughed about it because, even though I may not always be warm and fuzzy about telling you the truth or asking hard questions, you always know I care too much about you to feed you any flavor of nonsense whipped like cotton candy and served on a stick.

I have no idea where this came from but I LOVE it!
I'd love to know where it originated because it's awesome!

A pastor I once served with talked about how important it was to have mean friends. That's me. I'm the mean friend. The one that sticks to your face, looks you in the eye and regularly reminds you of how amazing you are and how much possibility and hope remains to be experienced

What if the women (and men) who experienced these crazy awful situations had a friend who would not only be safe enough to hear their story, but strong enough to hold them tight and remind them they can speak up, speak out, and they would walk beside them through the whole process? Could you be that kind of friend? What if we did that for each other?


 I am also a mean mom. So mean, I make my kids hang up uniform shirts, give them grief about socks with their sandals and I don't run out an buy them a tie when they've decided to do a "dress up competition" several days in a row with another kid in their grade, no matter how bad they want to win.


And finally, this. Yes, take pills if you need them. Some of us would be a WHOLE LOT MESSIER if we didn't take the vitamins, hormones, anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, anti-seizure, high blood pressure, or happy pills available to care for bodies and minds.

To get spiritual about this meme:We don't struggle against flesh and blood but against the powers of darkness (Eph 6:12) so the world I'm flipping off is the darkness that would try to suck me in to its vortex of discouragement, hopelessness, and a complete bag of candy corn.

Being Brave and Living Courageous

I’ve loved the ocean and water my whole life. It’s been a part of the metaphors of my battle with Depression and my battle with my weight. The ebb (low intensity) and flow (high intensity), high tide (eyebrow deep), low tide (all open and exposed), and rip currents (stuff you don’t see coming but if you fight it you sink and drown).

I’ve hated my body since I started puberty in 4^th grade. Yes, that young.

I’ve been much thinner, and I’ve been fatter than I am now. Regardless, the wrestling match over my body weight has felt ridiculously long and obscenely consuming.

I’m listening to Sara Bareilles sing “Brave”. The lyrics have fed my soul since I heard it for the first time – a friend sent it to me as an encouragement in a deeply tragic and painful time. I forgot how powerful it is. Therefore, I write. Honestly. Letting you in on the process.

Continuing to fight, wrestle, wrangle the weight I lose and gain and will lose again takes courage. Facing the SHAME of the decades of dieting, lifestyle changes, workout routines, planning, preparing and careful grocery shopping, and even weight rebound gains after having 85% of my stomach removed requires me to be BRAVE.

See, I know now, after doing this for my entire adult life, that I don’t hate myself, I hate the FIGHT with my body. When I back off and let my guard or my intensity down the fat rises with the predictability of the rising tide.

Shit.

I know. Potty mouth.

Then I read this blog yesterday and I found all the answers.

Anywhere I look to you or anyone else for my value or identity is going to put me on a pendulum – swinging one way or another - trying to behave/live/be a certain expected/preferred/desired way. I’ve done the big “Bird” to the world before and said I don’t care, but I do. I always do.

I can’t be the only one struggling here. We all need hope. We all need to know victory is possible. If I don’t shoot for victory will you have the courage to? Maybe. Hopefully. I hope I’m not the ONLY one you look to for complete inspiration – yikes! But we should look to each other for hope, right?

And of course, some of the spiritual ones would quote the scripture from my beloved Bible that says, 

“Such hope [in God’s promises] never disappoints us, because God’s love has been abundantly poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” Romans 5:5 (Amplified version-one of my favorites).

But what if I AM disappointed?

I am no Bible scholar, so this is just me talking, I’ve hoped in God’s promises almost all my life. There must be nooks, crannies, hidden passages of my heart where the disappointments hide. The abundant Love washes through my heart but doesn’t penetrate the places I’ve tucked away to hide my hopelessness and disappointment.

So, what to do?

Do I invite Spirit who was given to me to pour through even those places? I have before. It’s happened. I’m not just typing. I truly KNOW it’s real. The healing Power is real. By my own doubts, I give in to the “feel”, but I don’t stand firm on the Truth I know. Again, the tide pushes forward, sometimes only splashing hard enough to shake my balance, and other times with such might that I’m leveled. Flooded. Pondering surrender to the whim of the “feel”.

There is no easy way out. No easy solution. I am what and who I am. I like me. I don’t find me ugly or disturbing. But I am SICK OF THE STRUGGLE. SICK OF THE SHAME. SICK OF THE GUILT.

In the past I would have curled up and cried and said, “I can’t” a lot. Now, I have too much to do and I’m angry that these current things are slowing me down. I’m angry about the energy it sucks from my life instead giving life.

Now, because I’ve learned to “Own It” (take FULL responsibility with no excuses) I’m focused on moving forward despite the waves crashing at my throat. I can swim in rough waters. I can hold my breath and wait to float to the surface. I can push through yet another wave - physical, mental, or emotional, to reach the oxygen and breathe, if I stay steady on Truth.

When I don’t, I go under again. Thrashing for the surface while gasping for air.

I started my company, Live Courageous Coaching because I knew I wasn’t the only one struggling, wrestling and tangling with areas where I feel like I can’t seem to get traction. Owning, running, and LIVING Courageous keeps me honest about who I am, where I’m going and how I’m getting there. One day at a time, no matter the tide.