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Category Archives: healing

The Difference Between Expectations and Hope

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The Difference Between Expectations and Hope

 

 

 

 

 

Listen to an audio recording of this blog post here:

Disclaimer: I wrote this for a talk I presented to wives healing from marriage betrayal trauma. I am posting it as I gave it for us and others who are on this same journey. However, the crux of the message can apply to everyone who struggles with expectations and longs to find a better way.


Expectation:
a belief that someone will or should achieve something.
Hope: a desire for a certain thing to happen. A feeling of trust.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1 NIV

I come by my ability to set high expectations naturally. It was the culture of my family and the church environment I grew up in. Now, whether they did that on purpose or not, I don’t know, I’m guessing they didn’t. But still, placing high expectations on myself and others is in my DNA. Hope, on the other hand, is not something I’m good at. But it is everything I’ve had to learn in order to survive these last few years.

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Pain Prompts a Process (and that’s a good thing!)

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Pain Prompts a Process (and that’s a good thing!)

 

 

 

 

 

Listen to an audio recording of this blog post here:

I’ve spent the bulk of my life doing my level best to avoid pain. I’m simply not a fan of it. The thought of experiencing physical or emotional pain flips my fight or flight switch on in a clock tick. Somehow along the way, I developed super-Spidey senses that alert me to incoming pain and I get busy to head it off at the pass.

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Will you choose well with me in 2020?

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Will you choose well with me in 2020?

Many years ago, I was visiting my grandmother in the home where she was being taken care of for advanced-stage Alzheimer’s. By this time, she was withdrawn, had zero short term memory, and didn’t know who anyone was. At one point of the visit, our mostly one-sided conversation lulled and to fill empty space, I said with a sigh, “Well?” In an extremely rare ‘sharp as a tack’ moment, she stoically and cleverly replied, “Deep hole in the ground.” My eyes widened, I chuckled, and wondered how in the world that bubbled to the top for her.

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Still Trying (after all these years)

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Still Trying (after all these years)

A former therapist caught me every time I used the word, “try” in our sessions. By her measure, I wasn’t allowed to say “try”, “can’t”, “why”, or “fair”. While this was a healthy practice to some degree, and it helped me become more aware of my defeatist vocabulary, I came to my own conclusion that these words are neither bad nor should they be forbidden. They are honest words that represent honest feelings.

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Lord, help me to be willing to be willing.

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Lord, help me to be willing to be willing.

I want to share my nail-biting story with you. No, I NEED to share my nail-biting story with you. I know I’m not the only one out there who has felt the shame of having a bad habit that they just could not get a handle on no matter how hard they tried. I hope this story encourages you!

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Self-Care is Self-Love: Following the Path to Loving Yourself Well

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Self-Care is Self-Love: Following the Path to Loving Yourself Well

One of the best things I’ve done in seasons of healing is to follow the path. If healing is my goal, which it is, I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. If it’s going to be painful, which it will be, I want to do everything in my power to learn what I need to learn in an effort to keep history from repeating itself.

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Waiting for the Ocean to Meet the Sand: Riding the Waves of Trauma Recovery

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Waiting for the Ocean to Meet the Sand: Riding the Waves of Trauma Recovery

This is more of a stream of consciousness post. Obviously, my consciousness lacks brevity. I have been keeping this list of things I’ve been learning over these last nine months while in recovery from well, my life. While I know the list will continue to grow as I grow, I felt like I should share what I’ve learned so far. With an unapologetic 3000+ words, clearly, I’ve been learning a lot. Don’t be intimidated. Just read and digest what you can. If this is not for you, feel free to pass it by. I’m a believer in writing what I need to read so I’m guessing someone else out there needs to read this too. If not, that’s fine. It’s been good for me to log my recovery progress in this way.

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Seven Years of September 3rd’s

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Seven Years of September 3rd’s

I need to tell you something. I’m coming to you vulnerable, emptying my heart in hopes that it will fill yours. When it (the thing I need to tell you) happened recently, I knew it was a hug from God that had to be shared. My hope is that this piece of my story that has been private for seven years of September 3rd’s will encourage you as you wait on the Lord even when He seems to be moving at a snail’s pace.

JJ Heller’s song, Braver Still, is playing as I hit “publish”. I know this is not a coincidence.

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“Did you get the guacamole?” and Other Questions to Ask Someone When They’re Hurting

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“Did you get the guacamole?” and Other Questions to Ask Someone When They’re Hurting

If you’ve ever been through a season when pain, loss, and grief seem to overtake your mind, body, and soul, you are probably like me and ultra-sensitive to certain questions. Anyone requesting anything of you can seem judgmental and/or condemning, and can also add to our already teetering juggling act. If you’ve been on the other side of the coin and you love someone who is hurting, your sincere desire to help could actually add to their pain. Sometimes, albeit with heartfelt intentions, we ask the wrong questions and sometimes we ask the right questions the wrong way.

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I’m not sorry.

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I’m not sorry.

During an online support group meeting I was attending, I had some issues bubble up that began to refuse the gag order they’ve been accustomed to for so long. I muted my microphone and turned off my video. I was crumbling fast. I listened in for the rest of the meeting which thankfully was only about 10 more minutes. Finger poised on the mouse to click the “leave group” button. To make it through, I practiced my labor breathing even though it’d been 19+ years since I’d used it for its intended purpose.

When the meeting was over and with the lightning-quick click of my mouse, I signed out and the dam broke. I cried out to God, the universe, my computer screen, anyone who could hear me. With fists clenched and years of stored up tears flowing, I repeatedly said, “I’M NOT SORRY. IT WAS NOT MY FAULT!”

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