Control is Overrated

I've been holding back. Watering down my story with preface after preface (maybe this post counts as a preface lol) and I'm really sick of it. 

There is so much I want to say, and it's getting very heavy to carry. But I'm not here to confess anything, because that's not really the point of this. I'm more interested in why I've been holding back, even in the littlest things. 

I could list off what is expected, like a lack of confidence or I'm feeling silenced, but after closer examination, I've realized I'm only holding back because of one thing, and that's fear. No one likes being misunderstood or being responsible for uncomfortable conversations, and I'm learning that I've been avoiding some situations that require this of me. But as a divorced and remarried Christian woman with three diagnosed mental illnesses that had a baby two months before graduating with her Bachelor's degree in psychology, these situations are necessary and inevitable.

I don't admit this freely and comfortably. Well, maybe freely. This is the internet. But it's never comfortable to face parts of yourself you promised you wouldn't adopt into your behaviors. But alas, we are creatures of habit, imitation, and fault. 

My first draft of this post was complete garbage. I was angry and fed up with a lot of injustices, so I wrote, and it felt really good to get it off my chest. In this moment of weakness, however, I fought the urge to share everything on my mind because it would've been out of a heart of needing people to understand how "right" I am. Which is a problem, because it indicates a "wrong" side, and would turn me into some sort of martyr because of my trauma. And, ironically would've made me look like the pontificating windbag I told myself I would never become. Not only would that have been inappropriate, but so fruitless and plain wrong. 

Because it isn't about me. It's about truth. And the truth is, I'm tired of gossip, I'm tired of grief, and I'm tired people expecting me to put lipstick on a pig and brush things under the rug. I'm tired of assuming people expect things of me and I'm tired of expectations, assumed or not, being a motivating force for me to do anything. 

Ultimately, my first draft lacked grace and forgiveness, things I've fought so hard to advocate for, and it was really embarrassing to read. 

And like a whisper, I heard these words.

"Don't let your heart be controlled by their actions."

The ultimate soul-poke. In my moment of weakness, I'd become the very thing I've fought to not become in my healing journey; bitter. God spoke the truth with so much grace, so I scrapped the first draft of this and started fresh. ✨so here I am✨

This doesn't mean that I'm not angry or tired anymore, as nice as that would be, but those words snapped me back into the right heart posture. Sure, I have plenty to be angry about, and many reasons why I'm tired, but those words were the mirror I needed to see that I'm feeling this way largely due to all of the crap I've been inadvertently holding onto. I need to just let go. And honestly, I'm really tired of holding on. 

In light of this discovery, to let go started with me leaving my past self alone. I ask her too many dumb questions like "How did you not see this coming?" or my personal favorite "Why didn't you say this instead?" 

Because the past version of myself was genuinely in love. It wasn't her fault that she was lied to or used as a human doormat. She didn't know any better, she was young, and she was learning. And that's okay. She didn't know she needed to stand up for herself or be tough as nails or cut people off because she couldn't see what the future held. And that's okay. She did what she could, and she did a damn good job of it, considering she didn't know what I know now. I won't discredit the hard work I did by asking silly questions, because my past self went through a hard season without the lessons I learned from them. She is tough. And I need to leave her alone. She deserves peace just as much as I do now. 

Hindsight is 20/20 but that isn't going to give your past self a pair of glasses. 

...or something like that.

So, I won't hold her back with questions. I let her be at peace. 

Little did I know that my anger has been my biggest teacher in my healing journey, because I've been too busy looking at it like the enemy. It exposed insecurities and fears that ended up being of little consequence. It showed me how desperately I need to remind myself my identity is not assigned by others' opinions, but in the truth that I am a child of God. The way others react to my boundaries has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with them. Anger taught me that it's time for me to accept it all as it comes, as it came and went, and move on. 

So, I won't hold myself back with expectations I have no control over. I've let go of the need to be understood and seen by others.

Because it isn't my responsibility to make sure people understand what I share, and even sharing what I want to doesn't guarantee that people will see my side. I'm aware of those who've made their mind up about me, and it isn't a great picture. But that's fine. I'm past the need for people to have a good opinion of me, because the point I'm making has little to do with the trivialities of being "liked" and everything to do with freedom.

As I let go, I'm set free. Giving up the control I *think* I have sets me free to enjoy what is right in front of me. And there is so much in my life to enjoy. 

Holding onto feelings of betrayal while trying to heal from them is a form of self-sabotage, even if I didn't seek out to hold onto them in the first place. I found myself wrapped up in figuring out where my past fits in my healing journey and I'd inadvertently made my past feelings my present. I got too wrapped up in "figuring things out" that it became a distraction. It's a mental prison, because how much control do I really have over how people perceive me? 

*spoiler, the answer is ✨none✨*

 Holding on was holding me back from fully experiencing the best and most joyful years of my life! 

God has restored to me wholeness that I wouldn't otherwise have known so well. I cannot let the hurt of my offenders influence how I treat the God-given people in my life; the projection is fruitless and isolating. I'm so beyond done with that part of my life. That's all it is, a part. Granted it had a huge impact and ripple effect, but ultimately, it's just a part, not the whole. And the whole is so much sweeter. 

My now is dripping in gold and covered in peace. Because the truth is, I am already seen by God because He made me from dust and bone and knows even the littlest of details about me, from the number of hairs on my head to my last words on the day I die. I'm already understood by Jesus because He grieved and wept and died and rose again, and would do it all over if it meant I would spend eternity with Him because He loves me that much. I am already empowered by the Holy Spirit in me, who gives me the strength and courage to ask for help and let go of what no longer serves me. I don't need to hold onto things on this earth, the expectations and hurts from my past because I am seen and understood in ways that surpass the human capacity for the same. 

Why would I desire the cheap human alternative when I can let go and receive what is freely given to me by a divine God who chose the color of my eyes and has only the best in mind for me?

I'm learning this is what it's like to process grief; reflect and release. There are things I miss from hard seasons, and I grieve even for those things that weren't good for me in the end, because in those things I can recognize the potential for gain. And in many ways, I have gained. (Unfortunately, one of those things is weight but that's motherhood I guess lol)

The past is my past. It hurt, I lost a lot, and it's still manifesting itself in real ways. (helloooo mental illness!) But I can't afford the distractions and the noise, not when I've looked at my past from every angle and can't learn anything new from it anymore. There are bigger and more important things in "the now" that need my attention, like how my husband built us a bedframe and shelves, and we're making plans to have friends over for dinner next week. 

Grief is weird. Anger is weird. But it's a good teacher if you're patient enough to listen.

Here's to letting go, and not holding back. 

~Let It Go by Idina Menzel was stuck in my head while writing this so now it's stuck in your head, you're welcome.

Made to Forgive

In light of my second installment of "what I wish I knew about mental health" I thought I'd write a little follow-up about where I'm at today in my healing journey. 

** T/W mental illness **

In my last two posts, I opened up about some dark thoughts and how I felt during triggers, and I feel the need to explain myself. I'm afraid that there isn't grace for me. Admittedly I have the tendency to think the worst outcome will happen, that I'll be scrutinized for being a bad Christian because I was bitter for a while and wasn't always forgiving, but I'm often proven wrong with the abundant grace people show me. It's humbling and heart-warming. Even though I'm encouraged by seeing the fruit of me sharing my experiences, I cannot put my peace in it, and I can't expect the praise to carry me through the remainder of my healing journey. I must make the choices to go forward, even when I'll inevitably be met with scrutiny. Those choices are to move my focus away from what happened, to how I can learn and forgive now, tomorrow, and the next day.

I can't control what happened to me, but I can control how I respond to it.

The biggest part of my healing process has been learning about forgiveness and its many facets. I don't want to define forgiveness — because dictionaries exist — but I want to show how it's changed my life, how it's actively changing my life. I've never experienced such joy and unbridled grace, but not because I'm the one receiving it. Forgiving others and extending grace is the spice of life, it's our purpose as human beings, a fundamental practice, and so fulfilling. Serving others in this way, we find purpose and meaning in our lives. We find freedom. Forgiveness frees me from the burden of keeping track of the nitty gritty details of my testimony. Honestly, I don't remember a lot of them, partially because trauma amnesia is a thing, but I also don't want to dwell on the details and keep those hurtful memories alive. What is important is despite going through a season that nearly took my life, I emerged with a soft heart, but not without hard work and daily discipline to forgive those who hurt me.

We don't drift towards holiness, so choosing to heal required lots of discipline, daily. I wrestled with my inborn sinful tendencies and had to learn to rise above them. In my effort to forgive my ex-husband and many others in that season, I absolutely battled bitterness, hatred, and anger. And I still do, namely in weak moments or when I work through a trigger. To have learned a lesson doesn't mean one is an expert in applying what's been learned, because it takes practice to be good at making those hard choices.

That's the thing really, to "practice what I preach" entails the inevitability of failure. So yes, while I was working on forgiveness, I often failed and caved into bitterness, but my decision to forgive is still completely valid and my mistakes do not make me any less of a forgiving person. Failure to forgive is a part of the process. To not practice what I preach is to abandon forgiveness all together, and that's absolutely not an option. (There's a reason why the saying isn't "perfect what you preach" because it's unattainable and unrealistic. It also just sounds weird.) 

But people don't see those silent battles and daily choices. Only now am I sharing my experiences publicly. This isn't a unique struggle because everyone battles bitterness at one time or another. It's a part of the sin nature we were all born into. Whomever tells you differently is ✨lying✨ 

At the beginning of my healing journey, I knew forgiveness was the right thing to do, and I should do it because of what's been written in Scripture. I'd be lying if I said my heart wasn't hesitant; I was so hurt and so broken, and desperate for external peace. I wasn't aware of the lie I believed, that forgiveness was excusing actions that hurt me, and that it was an olive branch to my offenders. I can't even begin to describe the relief I felt when I learned that forgiveness is not synonymous with reconciliation or condoning hurtful actions. Instead, it is freeing yourself from carrying the pain your offender has caused you, allowing you to move on and make peace. As the age old saying goes, to withhold forgiveness is like drinking poison with the hopes the other person will die.

There are plenty of opportunities for me to remain bitter, daily. Given the nature of PTSD, I'm consistently reminded of little things regarding my ex-husband and the divorce; it's hard to completely drive out memories of someone you were doing life with. Not every reminder is a trigger, but the reminders do make me angry sometimes. It's difficult to say no to bitterness in those moments. But no amount of good will ever come from me being bitter towards my ex-husband. It isn't like bitter thoughts will somehow end up in him getting my form of justice, or him understanding what I went through or, or, or... It isn't up to me that justice is served or that "he gets his" because it's none of my business. I don't know what he needs in order to change and I'd be a fool to assume I do. It would also be foolish to bank finding my peace and closure on "him getting his" because no form of justice would be satisfying enough; I cannot risk my peace on circumstances I can't control.

There's a lot to be said about the latter, but it all comes down to understanding the importance of placing my peace and closure in something I can control, and something that withstands time and the space in my spirit. I can choose to have closure and peace — to wait for him to act gives him power over my peace. To wait for your offender to offer closure is like handing them your keys and enabling them to change the locks without you ever knowing — where is the peace in that?

Remaining bitter hardens the heart, a state in which it wasn't created to experience. Like a rubber band or dried clay before the firing, hardness is weakness, cracking and brittle. There is no strength found in harboring bitterness. Bitterness is all promise and zero delivery. It keeps us trapped into thinking that holding on to the pain from our offender will result in something fruitful. All it does is deepen the pain, prolong suffering, and weaken us in the process. 

Choosing to forgive is a fruitful discipline. It gives you the room to tap into your indwelling peace God gives to us, something wild and beyond our understanding; everlasting and never changing. It brings forth ripe authenticity in the pursuit of joy and of grace for others, but not without making daily choices to think right thoughts and practicing the art of letting go. 

I'm not perfect at this, and I never will be. Growing in forgiveness is not progressive like stairsteps, and not quite cyclical like a complete circle, but rather like a horizontal spiral. Through ups and downs, we learn, moving forward in time through the seasons of life, picking up valuable lessons on the way and doing what we can to make good choices, one of those being to forgive, hard as it may be. 

Forgiveness is difficult. But living in bitterness is a bigger burden. 

So be strengthened. Find peace. Align your heart with your wonderful design. Take the power back and participate in something greater than yourself. Don't let bitterness keep you in chains. I urge you, let go of what we were never made to carry, choose to forgive, and be freed.

~All I could think about when concluding this was the song "Nobody's Perfect" by Hannah Montana, and now the song is stuck in your head. You're welcome.

What I Wish I Knew About Mental Health #2.2

Welcome to part two! Thank you for being here and braving through this tough subject with me.

Now that we've gone over some misconceptions and I've bared my soul to the world, we can talk about healing.

** T/W trauma, mental illness **

**I am not a licensed mental health professional (yet) I am simply sharing my journey through struggles and my own studies. Please contact your doctor or a mental health professional if you need help **

I wrote in the last post that my journey is not the golden standard of what it's like to live affected by PTSD, and I want to emphasize this because healing is so subjective and what might work for one person may not work for another. I found my solace in hiking nearly everyday after my divorce. I learned to breathe deeper, to count and to notice the small things, and to drink in the view at the top of the climb. Or to put simply; breathe, be thankful, and celebrate victories. 

As great as the benefits are, this would be a terrible healing strategy for someone who hates to hike, which, in the PNW, is right up there in rarity as seeing a local use an umbrella. If you know, you know.

There is no "golden standard" or "one-size-fits-all" when it comes to healing in a healthy way, but there are unhealthy practices in a healing journey, namely, making assumptions.  

The worst of the worst of things that someone can do is assume, and unfortunately assumptions run rampant, and have really deep roots. The thing that makes assumptions so dangerous is they are divisive. Like lies, they fool many people into thinking they're not loved, that there's no hope, and that things won't get better. Some assumptions are honest mistakes, or they're made from the heart of wanting to be helpful. But many times, because of misinformation, the assumption will ultimately keep one stagnant in their healing journey, regardless of who is making them.

*You know what "assume" does right?*

The biggest mistake I see when people talk to someone who is healing and working through a trigger, is they assume the traumatized individual needs a hero. This can go the other way too, where a traumatized individual feels like the only way they can get better is if someone else does the heavy lifting because they feel like they're not strong enough. How great would it be to have someone step in and take all the weight, offer the greatest advice, and solve all the problems so they aren't triggered anymore? Sometimes, admittedly, I wish this were plausible. But there's a wonderful alternative that yields even better results and the opportunity to grow. 

It all starts when you realize that you have a choice.

I can choose to heal and do the work and heavy lifting, to be my own hero, because to not choose is to choose misery. To have someone else do the heavy lifting is being robbed of the opportunity to refine your character, becoming stronger, and having the satisfaction of saying "I did that."

I'm not saying that you can "think" your way out of a trigger, because there isn't much one can do when the brain is reacting in its rewired way. But you absolutely have a choice in how to respond to your trigger. The beauty of it is that in making the choice to heal over and over — to breathe, be thankful, and celebrate — your beautiful brain creates a new breathing, thankful, celebratory pathway and it becomes easier to make the choice each time. The pathway eventually becomes second nature. It's really this simple.

When I say simple, I don't mean easy. Nothing about healing is easy. But it's as simple as making the choice to show up and be willing to feel weak as you sit with your pain for a while, so you can walk out as the warrior you were made to be. 

This is why it's absolutely silly to assume that triggers are weaknesses, because they aren't. They are purely a response from a brain rewired to be hypervigilant. Essentially, the amygdala, a small almond-shaped part of the brain, is conditioned to react to any stimulus that it perceives as threatening by throwing out the stress hormone cortisol, in abnormally high quantities. It isn't a matter of whether someone is "really healed" but rather how the person is literally at the mercy of their altered brain chemistry. Because of this, triggers make for poor indicators as to where a person is in their healing journey. A traumatized individual can make the decision to forgive, go to counseling, practice mindfulness and other prescribed exercises, but it takes a very long time for the brain to adjust its chemistry. 

It's all brain science folks.

The only thing assumptions have ever been good at is robbing someone of the chance to connect on a spirit-deep level. Assumptions fuel the fire of pride in the individuals that want to help, while simultaneously watering down the hope of the hurting. 

"I can fix them. I give great advice."

"If people knew what I really thought about, they wouldn't want to get close to me."

It is imperative to cast assumptions aside. Instead, focus on these truths:

Triggers do not make you weak, nor are they indicators of failed healing. The progress is evident in how you handle your triggers and the choices you make, not in how your changed brain chemistry reacts to stimuli you can't control. Don't bleed on others just because you're cut. Your triggers do not make your choice to heal counterfeit. Your decision to forgive your offender is genuine, even on days where forgiveness feels so far out of reach. Trauma validity is not a matter of opinion, because what happened and how it affects you is real. Healing has its good days and bad days. One bad day doesn't mean you aren't healing, it's all a part of the process; there's a reason why it's called a healing journey.

You cannot "fix" someone who is hurting, but you can love them through it; choose to listen to their story if they feel comfortable sharing and make an effort to remember their triggers. Love them by waiting for them to open up in their own time, because it isn't about you. Choose patience over the need to know. To do otherwise is to rob them of important growth moments. 

It's hard to heal and it's hard watching someone you love heal, but regardless, you are not alone. Refuse to make an island out of yourself, because there are people who have gone through things you have, and they do understand. Let people in and watch them surprise you with their abounding love, and let it soften your heart.

There is an exception to the rule, and I've said it before, but if you assume anything, assume you don't have the full story. You can absolutely be helpful to someone without knowing every detail. Choose grace when emotions are high. Choose gratitude, especially on the dark days. Above all, choose compassion; trauma is painful and a little compassion goes a long way. 

I know this is all much easier said than done, but the beauty of it is that it does get easier the more you do it. Healing takes time. Healing is a practice, there will be ups and downs. It is not a destination, it is a journey. It takes lots of love, especially for yourself. There's a lot more healing found when you're vulnerable with the people you trust. I've found that to be true.

Really, it all boils down to making the choice. 

~Listening to Healing by Riley Clemmons

What I Wish I Knew About Mental Health #2.1

If I had to list things I wish I knew about mental health going into my 20's, knowing more about triggers before I experienced them would be on the list. I don't like being caught off-guard, and triggers have flipped my life upside down in many ways. 

The unfortunate reality is triggers are complicated and messy. It takes time — and lots of it — to know how to work through them as the healing process advances. Though complicated and messy, I'll try my best to address them and their common misconceptions, while sharing some of my own experiences, in two parts. (And a bonus third part because the inspiration struck.)

** T/W su*cide, self-h*rm, trauma, mental illness **

**I am not a licensed mental health professional (yet) I am simply sharing my journey through struggles and my own studies. Please contact your doctor or a mental health professional if you need help **

My sister and I talk about triggers often, because she also struggles with PTSD. She described in a recent conversation how she felt after listening to a song, that she felt like she was "back there." She was hesitant to call it a trigger because her understanding of being triggered was that it's solely a movie-like flashback in her head, like we see on TV. 

"It brings up difficult emotions," she wrote in her text to me. "Haven't listened to [the song] since freshman year. Would that be considered a trigger???" (Yes she used 3 question marks leave her alone.) "I didn't have a flashback but I feel like I'm back there."

"w h a t" she responded when I told her it's absolutely a trigger.

Two major things came to mind after having this conversation, both having to do with the proverbial "they." Media has a huge impact on how people understand the world, and the way media portrays PTSD perpetuates that, one, it's an illness that's exclusively experienced by combat veterans, and two, that being triggered is only experienced as vivid flashbacks and acting out in a breathless daze. 

So, spoiler alert, there are several ways to experience being triggered and PTSD is a diagnosis for ✨everyone✨ It's inclusive that way.  

The history of mental illness portrayal in movies and TV shows is laughable. Not to say there aren't gems out there with an excellent story and accurate representation, but generally, neurotypical individuals write the stories with second or third-hand experiences. This isn't an inherently bad thing, but unfortunately, this means the general etiquette — trigger warnings, excluding self-harm/suicide on-screen etc. — is not on the forefront of their mind and is often forgotten. The point here is not to blame the media for all the misconceptions about PTSD and triggers, it doesn't even have anything to do with how it perpetuates stereotypes, but rather, there's an abundance of misinformation out there. As a soon-to-be art therapist and someone who struggles with these things daily, it's endlessly frustrating.

There are important distinctions to make when addressing triggers and what it means to be triggered. Triggers, to the untrained eye, are innocuous — a smell, a person's name, a specific place. There's nothing inherently dangerous about these things, but to someone who has been traumatized, those seemingly innocuous stimuli can leave the person feeling terrified and helpless. 

Responses to triggers are dependent on the individual and how they perceived their traumatic experience. Physiological responses such as an elevated heart rate or upset stomach are possible symptoms of being triggered. To become anxious or afraid in the face of a trigger is also very common.  In my case, I'll usually feel as if the thought follows me around like a dense cloud, which commonly results in mental fog and extreme irritability for the rest of the day. Sometimes this can last for a few days, if the trigger is really intense. I call these "hornet thoughts" because these thoughts sting over and over and over...

*I know it isn't my job to ask God "why" but I have a few questions about the creation of hornets. And mosquitoes, like what is their job in the world's ecosystem other than carrying disease and being an absolute nuisance??*

Responses are not a one-size-fits-all because trauma comes in all shapes and sizes. As it's commonly understood, combat violence is traumatic. But so are car accidents, or even childbirth. As more research comes out, there is scientific evidence supporting that intimate betrayal, such as an affair, in a committed relationship can encourage the onset of PTSD. The triggers in relation to these events will be different. 

Because of my divorce (read my previous post), I've had difficulty watching crime TV shows, which is a bummer because I love a good murder mystery. But those TV shows will almost, if not always, have scenes where a character is on trial in a courtroom. This is one of my triggers.

There are instances where I can get past the anxiety with quiet prayers and deep breathing, but there are other instances where it's just not possible. I sit at the mercy of my altered brain chemistry, as the TV show brings me back to my first experience in a courtroom, the morning after my ex-husband was arrested. In these moments, I can almost smell the matted carpets and old wooden benches. 

I'm reminded of details I haven't thought about it a very long time. Sights, smells, sounds. Feelings. Mostly embarrassment; I was the wife of the accused, hardly able to hid my sobs as he was shuffled out wearing handcuffs and navy blue like the other inmates. Not only were eyes on me as I cried ugly tears, a victim to his crimes was on the other side of the same bench I sat on. I wanted to tear out of my skin. 

The trigger doesn't stop there. I'm reminded of a separate hearing, where there were more victims present. I remember my thoughts. Angry, embarrassed. I desperately wanted privacy in my life, but I was realizing that was no longer an option in that season. The victims snickered as we prayed together before the hearing. The hate in the air was thick, suffocating, and I wanted out of the building. I couldn't figure out why I was so torn up, even though I wasn't the one on trial. I wanted to die. I wanted peace.

I'm reminded of the heat from my face, the bouncing in my leg, my restless, shaky hands. The burning tears I held back. 

I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry.

I need to stay strong. Everyone is counting on me to be strong. He's counting on me to be strong. I cannot and will not break. He needs my help. I must stay strong.

I couldn't have been happier when the hearing was finally over. I don't remember most of the night afterwards. Trauma is like amnesia at times, though the 2 shots of tequila on an empty stomach followed by several beers probably didn't help. Grief makes you do funny things. Stupid things. It was definitely not my proudest moment. This is where the trigger amplifies my embarrassment.

As I navigate the embarrassment, it becomes a sort of flashback, both memories replaying at the same time, pulling in other moments, good or bad, anything that relates to the courtroom scene. My brain is whizzing at a million miles an hour, my heart painfully palpitates in my chest. Frustration, white hot in my face. I can't catch a good breath. The night only comes with lucid nightmares. My thoughts, doubts of my progress. Repeating to myself that healing isn't linear, that I'm safe now. I know the science like the back of my hand, but that doesn't make it hurt less. I wish it did. I wish for an end, frustrated that I need to ride it out like a boat on a restless sea.

And all of this is happening because I had to sit through the stupid scene about the stupid courtroom on the stupid TV show that I can't stop watching because the stupid story is just so good. (I was about to call myself stupid here but we don't do self-deprecation over here at Bee Happy. Self-deprecation is for sissies.)

I don't share to get sympathy or pity because I share from a place of healing, not grief or pain or even bitterness. Do my thoughts come out pain-soaked and bitter? Sure. Being triggered is a raw, emotional process, and many of my triggers are rooted in a very bitter season, where every thought was muddled with grief, shame, betrayal, and a lot more. I'm still processing. But I'm healing. I'm choosing to forgive, which has made me able to share this today. I'd call that a victory. Though this be a victory, it doesn't make it any less difficult to share. 

As small a window this is into PTSD and triggers, it's a very real window. Being triggered is far more complicated than being uncomfortable or offended. Rooted deeper than trivial irritants, triggers are exhausting, messy, and ruthless. The body is put into fight-or-flight, bracing for impact, even at the slightest hint of possible danger. This piece of my heart I've shared is just a fraction of what I experience, as I have several triggers, and my story is not the golden standard of what it's like to experience these things. Even if I had known what it was like to experience triggers before going into my 20's, I don't think it would have made a significant difference; again, it's complicated and messy.

With that said, don't do your loved ones, or yourself, a disservice by basing your understanding of mental health off of movies and TV shows, because stereotypes write the scripts. Have grace, extend love, and listen. We'll be talking more about that in the next post, so stay tuned. 

~My sister did talk to her therapist about our conversation and I'm happy to report that it was a good session. 

Divorce is Not a Dirty Word

When I opened up more about my divorce on my personal Instagram, I was shocked by the amount of positive feedback I received.  

As a Christian, the "d" word is evil, at least that's what I grew up hearing. You don't talk about it, you don't think about it, because you need to follow through with the commitment and the covenant you made on your wedding day, regardless. Heavy on the regardless.

So naturally, conflict brewed when I realized I wanted a divorce.

I'm not sharing names and I'm not getting into great detail, because that's not what this is about. I have long forgiven my ex-husband for his mistakes, and he has paid for them, dearly. I'm simply sharing my point of view in a story I've kept quiet about for a long time. Despite my frustrations, I am not here to point fingers — though it may seem like that because I've had my fill of the church's view of diVoRcE, and for that, I apologize in advance.

All I ask is that you remain patient with me. I'm still healing. This is still relatively fresh, and I'm doing my best to share what happened without dragging people through the mud, especially my ex-husband. It's not my place, and none of my business. He's been through the mud already.

Without further ado, buckle up lol.

**T/W mental health, suic*de, self h*rm**

On the outside looking in, my divorce was sudden and without explanation. 

Behind closed doors, it was a different story. 

I was a victim. My peace was robbed from me, my security ripped out from under me, my trust shattered. My marriage bed was defiled because of the years of emotional ties my ex-husband had made with private stolen photos. As someone who was a tech whiz and worked in IT, he had access to these photos — women who entrusted their device with him, women we knew, who watched us say our "I do's" and who shared meals with us around our dinner table. 

There was an unspeakable weight — many elephants in the room, crammed into the two bedroom apartment we rented. They were addressed one by one, as he admitted only to what he got caught doing. This piece-meal disclosure of each woman he stole photos from went on for six months. Legally there are about 17; overall, I stopped counting at 25. This is why I was diagnosed with PTSD.

During those six months, I lost many friends and my privacy was invaded. Detectives searched our apartment for digital storage devices. I had to call the cybercrimes unit at the police station to get my laptop and hard drive back before I started my next college semester that fall. Photos of me on my ex-husband's phone were disclosed to the detectives. I grieved. For my lost trust and defiled intimacy, and though completely unrelated, I grieved for my patient who died — I no longer had a job.

The one person I thought I could count on for anything was the problem; my lifeline, the person I was with one spirit and one flesh, turned out to be unstable. I had no one to turn to.

Deceit was heavy, and years in the making. While I fell in love with his heart first, I still didn't know it. It made me doubt my intuition and my worth, and it made me feel invisible. Did he think about those photos when we were intimate? How often did he look at them? Was I not enough for him? Did I not satisfy him enough because he was looking at other women? Did he not trust me enough to tell me the whole truth? Am I trustworthy? Am I worthy?

I contemplated self-harm, like an itch that needed to be scratched. I wanted a permanent break from suffering, because I would have gone to Heaven, and the nightmare would have been over. I even had an idea of how I wanted to do it, that journal entry was titled "Barbiturates."

I am not proud of my thoughts during those hard months. 

I felt like an imposter anywhere I went — anytime I laughed, anytime things were "good" or when I had to answer the question, "How are you?" because I knew once I said that I wasn't okay, the dam would burst. "I am not okay" didn't even begin to cover how I felt.

And while people rallied around my ex-husband while he faced the possibility of years in prison, I was fading away, withering into nothing. Like a fighter jet in a flat spin, destined for deadly impact.

The biggest assumptions about my decision to get a divorce was I made it too quickly, that I did it outside of biblical counsel, and I got it simply because he was in legal trouble with sexual motivation. This is simply not the case.

It's hard to describe exactly how I made my decision and what my process was. I hardly had the words at the time, even though I knew the reason why, which was this: A future with him was impossible because he broke his vows, and I was spiraling downward, fast. We were young, both under twenty-five, had no kids, no property, and by the time I made my decision to file, we hadn't even been married for a year. 

Above all else, after prayerful deliberation, I made my decision because God gave me the green light. 

God released me from the long and grueling fight. I battled opinions, doubts, made frustrating decisions and did the best I could to not dole out ultimatums, because initially I was very ready to make things work. I believed God would bring out a glorious testimony from our marriage, so I wasn't giving up. It was when God gave me the space to make a choice that divorce was an option I considered. He walked me up to a fork in the road, reassuring me that He would never leave my side, regardless of what I chose. His grace covered me as I made peace with what I knew was true. I was spent, and it became too much for me to carry. 

Starting over was the best thing to do. 

I share this not to gain sympathy, but to shed light on the tumultuous process that is divorce. I wish that it wasn't such a "dirty word" in the church. It was shocking to me, how many Christians told me that I wasn't doing what God wanted and that I needed to stay with him and work it out. That I made my decision without thinking about it. That God doesn't like divorce, as if they knew better. 

Yes, it's true. God doesn't like divorce. He doesn't like it because it is painful to go through, because it takes a lot of heartache and grief to arrive to the decision to separate from someone you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with, and consciously break the promise you made in front of God and your close friends and family. It's hard. It's embarrassing. It's even debilitating. That's why God doesn't like divorce. 

God also doesn't like sexual sin. Self-righteousness. Or gossip, yet there was a lot of gossip. The legal case and the divorce was talked about a lot. Oh, the irony. 

I didn't need people telling me what God wanted, because I talked with Him, and He gave me the choice. I didn't even need people to agree with my choice. I simply needed a safe place to break down, because the man I married was no longer my shelter. I needed someone to empathize, recognize, and acknowledge the pain I was going through, not to brush it aside because of the stigma.

Sure, there were good intentions, not to say that the church is stupid. My point is that in my experience, there was such a lack of grace from those who claimed to exemplify it, because I was now labeled a divorcee. So many stones, so many planks, not enough grace. This is not a jab at the church.

I will never say that I made the right decision. Only God knows, and I am but a small part in His workings, and my interpretation of what God wants will not always be right. But I will say that I made the best decision I could, and I made my decision in the eyes of God. Really, that is all that we can do.

I was reassured by God that I was secure in my decision when He gave me my warrior of peace, a man I am proud to call my husband, and then again when He gave us our son. As scary as it was to open up to someone new after such an intimate betrayal, my fear was not bigger than my trust in God. Just two weeks after the divorce was finalized, I was remarried, and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

At the end of the day, the opinions of others didn't and will not dictate or know the intimate relationship between my heart and God's heart for me. To assume otherwise is to assume oneself as knowing better than God. (Which is also something God doesn't like.)

We get so wrapped up in telling people what they need to do because the Bible says so, when we should be telling ourselves those things. We are too busy throwing stones, thinking we are sharing the Good News, as if we forgot the other part of that story, where Jesus, the only faultless individual who could throw a stone, didn't. 

*Yes, I just asked the age old question, "What would Jesus do?"*

Instructing others in how they need to handle a personal spiritual matter is best done when you love them through it. Be kind. Be gentle. Listen. It is not our job to make sure someone lives the way God wants them to — nor would you want that job because it's hard enough to do so ourselves — but it is our job to love others.

This is hard to share, still. The healing process is long, and contrary to popular belief, time does not heal all wounds. Tender work must be done to heal a tender heart. Time passes, separating us from the mess, but to heal is to do the work. 

Time will not return to me my sense of security, and it will not give me the peace that was robbed from me. Time will not give me the ability to make boundaries, and it will not wipe away doubts and opinions; it will not bring me wholeness. Oceans do not give us the ability to swim.

Like my grandfather always says, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him wear water wings. 

I guess the sagely piece of advice I have to impart is to be gentle. Cast assumptions aside. If you do assume anything, assume that you don't have the full story, because many battles are fought in private. Resist the urge to fix, to correct, to insert your opinion under the guise of it being biblical advice, especially in a time of crisis. The first thing to come out of your mouth should be this: "What do you need right now? I am here, I am listening."

Love them through it. Watch how your grace for others becomes transformative. The rest will surely follow.

~While "love is all you need" is a great sentiment, it clearly doesn't address the grave importance of toilet paper. 

Listening to: Adele's entire new album because wow my girl's done it again.