The Rested Soul: I’m not enough and that is OK

(We almost finished my son’s room before visiting my grandma and I just love the results!) 

Context: this post is written during a time of constant bodily distress. For some unknown reason, I have picked up every bug I feel I’ve been exposed to since before Christmas… I have not had this many struggles with viral health since my children were little. This in turn has set back a lot of my diagnosed autoimmune and health disorders. I am not stating this for pity, but to the fact that I have suffered daily with questions about life, health, and the meaning of me within a space of limited energy, diet, functionality and ability. There are days when I am well enough to be out in public and seem OK but they are far and few in between the worst days. Because what I’m going to state is actually the opposite and might seem like I have it all together, but these are the lessons I’ve learned during daily struggle. Some days I feel like I can’t do it physically and my symptoms look hidden to most people, but they are there. This is crucial for setting the context of this post. 

Additional Disclaimer: I have been immersed in Christian culture the last few years again. I want to state the difference between Christian culture and a belief in God. There are key differences. Christian culture has a lot of merit and there are beautiful things that come from it however, there are also some strange, weird and ugly things that also stem from Christian belief and culture. I have written about them before in my past, and I’ve dealt with many of them, but find that they creep up again when I’m immersed in the surroundings of the culture again. I want to point out that God is above Christian culture and while God is in all things good… Things that are wrong about it are not part of a belief in God, but a human construct. I am actually writing this post , with this cultural mindset in mind. People of differing belief may still get something out of my post, as I’m still the same author from previous ones, but like anything in life - this post may not be for you at this time either and that is Ok too. 

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I’m not enough. 

I am faced with that statement each day to varying degrees. But I’ve learned something important throughout my daily struggle. I am not enough, but that’s OK. Because God is. And I have access to God. The mysterious one who encompasses all things GOOD. The beauty of the world and it's simplicity is grounded and rooted in this strange Being. With a breath of relief, I am rested in this Knowing. I am not enough. And I don’t have to be.

This is a hard won lesson. I learned it years ago when I had to use a wheelchair in malls to get around. I learned it when my kids were little and I felt overwhelmed with anxiety and a deep, dark depression daily. And I continue to learn it. As stated before, I don’t like to glamorize chronic illness, and there are worse things and diseases that I could be diagnosed with, and I’m thankful for my lot in life. But that doesn’t dismiss the struggle that I personally have or that others have within their certain conundrums in life. However, the beauty of struggle, if one can dwell in a place of gratitude, is the reliance on something Other. The Spirit of Wonder and Grace… more so than any other adjective though, is the Spirit of Love. I can accomplish all the world has to offer, but if I do not have love, it is meaningless, empty, and full of dark. With Love anything can be conquered ( Well, in the ultimate end anyway… I don’t wish to sound trite but the truth still stands that love outweighs All.) Where the spirit of the Love is… There is freedom. 

I live in a place where Church attendance is considered a hallmark of faith. We escaped that years ago and had a long, lovely break from it all. We learned that church is found in nature, where two or three are gathered, in spiritual awareness and companionship, in art combined with a Spirit of Love and in the fellowship of those of both like minded faith and differing mindsets. Where God is. It doesn’t have to be in a building, although that can be a wonderful attribute at times. But it shouldn’t be considered a hallmark of faith. In fact, I have seen people who sit through the same sermons over and over again and never grow beyond a certain mindset. 

We must always be growing, seeking and becoming, but on the opposite side paradoxically, we must always be resting, at peace, and grateful with the one who is Jireh. I’ve been judged on this. Sometimes vocally, and sometimes I can just feel it a bit… Because truthfully mornings are my worst time when I am in a flare or struggling with illness, or that time of the month when I’m almost haemorrhaging. I can seem fine later in the day and if church was at night, I’d probably be more of a regular attendee because there are aspects that I value in the current church that we are in. But this complexity of my life puts me at advantage and disadvantage. I’m at a disadvantage because I’m considered unreliable or unworthy to serve in the capacity that is wanted. A massive advantage is that I have learned not to be purposefooled into thinking that ministry, busy work, serving, or any other type of striving makes me better or less than the people around me. I have to rely on God only. Over and over again. I have to find my worth not in what I do or even descriptors of who I am but who God is overall, because some days I don’t make it out of bed. Some days I am defined by limitations and yet there is so much beauty still when I look for it. 

The advantage is that I often don’t get caught up in a life that is defined by others. When I do, it’s quickly smashed to pieces. I do not have anything to prove on the best of days because I don’t need to prove anything ultimately. God is enough. Ironically, people are continually brought to my home to be fed spiritually and physically and  mentally… To be rested or encouraged or inspired. But not in a way that can be measured in conversation or used as a social media descriptor ( if I had social media.) It has not been in my personal cards to ever have a fully attained description of what I do in the world. Which puts me at a worldly disadvantage, but I feel it also gives my a spiritual lesson I would not exchange. I have different struggles than those who have been Purposefooled (an excellent book found HERE for those who ARE which my husband benefited from greatly.) I have different lessons. Anxious lessons about body which connects to my spiritual side. An inability to do “normal things” well. Daily, ordinary struggles that aren’t typically understood by the masses but definitely understood by those who suffer bodily. 

There are seasons we are completely left alone (usually when healing, restorative rest is required.) Our life doesn’t look like order much to the chagrin of establishments or those who value those as ultimate authority ( as institutions are required to be orderly which IS important) but there is a facet of Order running through the chaos in our lives. I believe God loves order, so a form of order is created. It is an artful gaze of beauty running through the knotted tangles, but life is also messy. It’s a fact in this world. To seek perfection is to seek to BE God. No thanks. I don’t want that humanely impossible goal. I’d rather let God be God and accept that because God is God, I don’t need to prove anything. I can be lavished in LOVE…even in misery. I’m a continually reformed perfectionist whom is learning this lesson season by season, over and over. I learn it, unlearn it, rest in it, angst in it… rinse and repeat. 

With my humanness at the forefront, I also understand that I’m not always going to understand. I must embrace the Peace that TRANSCENDS all understanding. 

(Looks can be deceptive. This picture was taken when my gut was a mess and I had just finished gagging and dry heaving...but we still had a laugh and a snuggle because life is BOTH AND.)

I’m also aware that just because I rest in Peace, it does not negate that I am also required to grow, to become more of Spirit, to take up the responsibilities and burdens I have specifically been given. Lately, this is in the form of learning more about emotions. I am grateful for books that enter my life exactly when my soul needs them. 

The “Untangle your Emotions” book by Jennie Allen (click) is the latest book I have needed. For years in cognitive therapy I learned how to re wire my thoughts and create new circuits in my brain. It took years of hard work and I’m better for it. Yet, there are many facets to being human. When the focus was on thoughts, I did leave behind many of my feelings. It’s time to unwind my tangled emotions, allow them to be felt, and acknowledge that I’m a deeply feeling human. Even the least feeling of us humans, is affected by feelings, whether they wish to acknowledge this fact or not. While the book is definitely immersed in Christian cultural language, the truths I’ve found are going to be re visited over and over for myself at this time. God expresses all emotions yet without missing the mark. We live in an emotionally charged culture where emotions are considered “full truth” at the expense of all else. On the opposite side, Christian culture often represses human emotion … there is a balance to be found and the book is excellent at marrying the science of the brain with faith on the spectrum of emotion. 

We each have our own unique blessings and hardships. I prefer to use those words over privilege and unfairness. I have learned that leaning into the concept of blessings, even when I’m struggling, changes me. My circumstances do not always change, but something inside me shifts, and that peace that transcends all understanding re emerges within. Nothing changed yet everything changes.

A short list of personal gratitude’s:

- The way the air catches the outdoor curtains hanging on my deck and in that moment all I have to do is watch it twirl and breathe. 

- Sunshine that soaks into the skin and helps calm a nauseous stomach.

- Foods that don’t taste as bad when they come back up with heartburn and deep burping later. Even if it means I’m knocking back milkshakes and salt and vinegar chips at an alarming and unhealthy rate. Sometimes one temporary ( hopefully) unhealthy thing is the lesser evil.

- Gaviscon ( my husband jokingly calls it Grammascon) - it has literally stopped embarrassing random public gagging attacks immediately. I’m not a medication gal but it’s been a life saver! I was visiting my beloved grandma recently and was choking a lot and could not hide the heartburn coughs and deep burps. My grandma and aunt insisted I take Gaviscon regularly the entire week I was there and forced me to lay down often. I felt like a failure as I was going to Grandmas to work, and while I did get a bit of gardening and organizing the house in while my husband and children took on major Reno’s …I was mostly the organizer, decorator and boss…and the one who could sit and visit. (Which I should be used to by now but sometimes I still feel a bit inferior - like I COULD do more.) But each moment with my loved ones was precious too and I’m grateful they also took care of me. 

- magnesium baths that soothe pain points.

- a physiotherapist who is a natural healer and enables me to walk instead of be in a wheelchair. 

- a naturopath whom I anticipate seeing in a week whom often gives me pieces to the puzzle I can’t figure out myself.

- Ferramix even though it doesn’t fully absorb, at least it keeps me semi functional when I can’t leave my house due to bleeding issues.

- Gods timing: it’s not mine for sure, but usually in hindsight I see the why …

-A husband who works so I don’t have to feel my daily restraints and pain and perceived failures at an even greater level. Better still, a husband who believes I do beautiful worthy things just as I am. 

- A beautiful community we can live on a budget in and still thrive. Beautiful surroundings made from sacrificial choices. 

- Good hours (or when lucky) days, when normal life is SUCH a gift! I love it when it’s been minutes or hours when I haven’t thought about my stomach, my pain, my inner organs , fatigue or about choking. What an incredible blessing to go about the day fully functional! To not think about breathing or when the next “attack” or flare will be. To laugh and embrace the joy of BEING. It’s such a gift. 

- Music: from Musgraves to Dolly to Amy Grant to all things beautiful! My current new favourite is Kacey’s 'Deeper Well' album and nostalgic 90s country. I crave down home roots when I am in semi survival mode. 

- My Grandma. We recently drove the 12 hours home from nine days away… I struggled with health the entire time but it was still worth every bit. My Grandma is one of my favourite people in the world ( click here) and each moment with her is a gift. 

- My children. What an incredible blessing to have friends, companions, sharers of beauty and hardship, and grace filled lessons built into three Beings I birthed… yet they bring daily birthings of beauty into my soul. 

- The One Whom Is. Who lavishes Love, even in pain or suffering or when I can't fully feel it. I KNOW it's there. It's a choice to see it. When it comes down it, the Beatles sang it right, LOVE really is all you need. My soul can rest in that even if my body, sometimes, does not. I am not enough, and that is OK. God is. Love is.

Song Choice: Architect- Kacey Musgraves

The Beautiful Cost of Unexpected 'Picture Perfect' Moments

As much as I adore February, where I live in Canada, this is about the time where I begin to crave the sun, leaving the house without boots/ toque/coat, and seeing green life. This is the time when I have to encourage myself and my family to seek out the lights in the darkness. Sometimes the world around us is bleak and it takes an activated mindset to see the good, the beautiful or the kind. Sometimes, we need someone to see it for us. At the beginning of January, we had a Disney Tangled moment made real thanks to my childhood best friend. The gratitude of that rooted connection manifest in a balloon floating to freedom which felt like the best type of paradox. 

This seemingly picture perfect moment (above) was actively chosen. I chose to attend this event even though I was still recovering from illness and talking felt like shard glass. I honestly did not want to go because I wanted my bed more. The picture looks more appealing to me than how I felt at the time (I am so thankful for photos where I can enjoy the moment once again without the sensory data messing it up and be grateful for it!) More importantly these moments were chosen long ago… when I chose to cultivate a deep friendship with the host of these festivities. One of my best friends since grade 5. This moment was brought to me by extremely tough past choices. 1.) Choosing to stay in a town we felt squelched by (now we thrive in the same town!) 2.) Leaning into friendship when at times the conflict or differing life choices can ebb and flow. 3.) Saying yes often when I want to say no. 4.) Choosing to have a family instead of rising in the ranks of career and being encouraged by a friend who chose the same. (I wrote about the thirty best choices of my life on my thirtieth birthday HERE. Re reading after my fortieth, I realized they still hold up for myself - but maybe toned down  a bit with some calm and a little less sass than at thirty? One can hope…https://worldwecreate.blogspot.com/2017/11/30-of-some-of-my-best-decisions-in-30.html?m=1) 

This is the only online space I am on (I do not have any Social Media) and yet I still feel compelled to point out that these beautiful picture perfect moments I have...Most of them have come with a cost. Most of them are beautiful because they are sought out, chosen, and hard won. Almost all have a back story...and then, there are the occasional moments that were simply a gift from above without merit or choosing or "winning" but just because...and those are rare jewels in a world full of competing images.

We have a resident Santa in town who gets paid at Fairmont Hotels in the mountains nearby. My husband has this running gag with him in which he yells to him, "Santa!!!” in a kids excited tone... Out of his construction truck window, all year round when the sun shines hot, and 'Santa' will holler back a deep “Ho ho ho!” Around ten on Christmas Eve after our company had gone a doorbell rang. Santa stated he just had to stop by after a gig he had (so he was dressed in his best!) because of my husband’s constant enthusiasm. He had a tough year where some fundamentalists (who make the mistake of seeing their issues before people) accused him of being Satan for promoting Santa. To which we heartily disagreed and stated that he is an icon of giving and modelled after a Saint. (Anyone who tries to bring joy and cheer to others can’t be equated with Satan as Satan can not bring anything good according to Christian belief- so these people are obviously not thinking logically.) That aside, we found his presence beautiful. People usually are startled and laugh when they hear my husband yell 'Santa' at a man with a beard all year long, but some people think we are weird. Because we are different and that is simply the complexity of community. People can be weird. Sometimes the magic is in the unexpected. Sometimes it is simply when we decide to open up our door.

My husband has always had an uncanny relationship with homeless people. He chats with them and draws out their stories and cheer. Against the brick wall on a cold December day, an older man whom was quite dirty and quite bent sat huddled. What struck our family was that he had the most beautiful, clear blue eyes. My kids said they were waiting for him to turn into a wizard like Gandalf because of his absolutely stunning eyes. I had to pick something up inside and I noticed there were fuzzy blankets there that were on from $80 to For $30 on sale so I bought him one of those. What you have to understand is that at the time, I had exactly 35 dollars in our account. We were late on getting paid and we were not sure (at the time) where our next job was coming from and currently do not have savings due to renos we are doing. So I was actually slightly torn for a moment...but then I realized all of our needs are met while his were not. 

How can I expect and trust God to meet our needs if we do not share when we can? On the drive to the city for our appointment and pick up, I was very worried about our upcoming finances and lack of job prospects ( as I didn’t know we had less lined up then we thought. God always provides but sometimes we struggle through and other times we are blessed beyond what we need) Most times I lean into faith because in our 20 plus marriage, we pretty much go down to zero for most of the month, but we always survive and we always have enough! When we are feeding a bunch of teen friends regularly, somehow the food keeps being provided for. Honestly, despite God continually showing us we have what we need, sometimes I struggle. I was trying to give my concerns to God, but I was still rather grumpy. My self discipline was failing and I was worrying anyway. I knew I was sullen and not a picture of grace for my kids so I tried to sing along to the music and not mope. All I really wanted to do was put my head in my hands and my kids were watching me and I was failing at having that balance … 

But in that moment, I think the homeless person ministered to me more than we ministered to him. It was right after we arrived in town and he was pretty happy with his life. While I was in the store, he told a lot of his life story to my husband and had a sense of contentment that I was struggling with myself! Seeing his clear blue eyes and the way he smiled despite what seemed like a very mangled body, I felt completely undone. I was convicted in the best way. I saw the mirror and realized what I wanted to be instead of what I was. I get to be forty! I have a thrift store that provides our families entire wardrobe of designer pieces for under ten dollars an item, so we get to dress well. My house is full of beauty to share with others. We eat and share. We have community and we have solitary faith. We have beauty to wake to each day. We have family and peace and warm beds and freedom. Yet, there I was, upset at what I perceived as a lack of certainty when that can also be a gift. A lack of certainty can cause us to rely on the ONE whom Is. While I do not uphold poverty, I do think there is something to be said for being  poor enough to wonder where the next meal or mortgage money is coming from but rich enough to have a home in the first place and it full of beauty.  How incredibly blessed is that? I was faced with the mirror of self and God flipped it with a man staring back with dignity and grace despite circumstances and I had to hold back my tears from this Aha moment of BEING.  

We will not be understood by the masses although Social Media sure makes us try our hardest to be liked. Not one of us will have all people like us or get us. Even good people will misunderstand due to differences in personality or brain wiring. In the last couple months I have had a few people remark on our home and it's "materialism." One was a kind intellectual priest who stated, "Your home is a blend of fantasy and tradition. The inner westerner and materialist in me loves it." To which I was both insulted and flattered. I realize he was being genuine and true to his philosophy in the world. He was a speaker in our home and new to us, so he did not know our context, which is always an enlightening evening. A few weeks later another stranger was in our home (we host many strangers in our odd little existence) and he stated a little sermon on materialism as he looked around. We knew where he was going with it, but we smiled and nodded and changed the subject. 

 

What I find interesting is that often the people who state these things, drive up to our house in vehicles we have never been able to attain. (Our recent truck was funded for us to pay back slowly by a generous person in the community who was tired of seeing my husband use a 500 van with busted doors to do his construction job. It was a huge blessing, but even the price tag for us was an insane consideration.) These same people are often rocking high end shoes, watches, the latest phone, or outfits and often when the conversation comes around to thrifting, it's met with confused looks. They talk about vacations as givens, and tickets to anything with ease. Which I celebrate for them actually! I love it when we have enough to do a small vacation or buy tickets to a musical. These are rare treats and life is also meant to be enjoyed! But we do not see these things as a given or part of a healthy life to thrive. We see them as bonuses. So why are we defining materialist labels based on stuff that is on a wall? There are MANY MANY ways to be a materialist.  As a caveat I will state, sometimes those who drop hints about our 'materialism' are not well off either, but generally, it is the poorer people than us, who stand in awe and say gracious things... I admit my home is odd and not everyone is going to like it. That I am fine with. But little digs or sermons on materialism have me biting down my self control. I realize they are not trying to be condescending or holier or judgmental...or maybe they are! But they are choosing to see the world in a certain slant. Because what a person sees is simply that I have a gift of using thrifted finds, colour, and gifted items, to make a space feel magical and cozy and FULL. I have a tough time seeing blank spaces with my particular autism quirks. I feel my home is a canvas of expression. I am great at finding quality items for barely anything or improving an item from a second hand store. I love my materials to work with as an image maker of God who enjoys creating. But I know that even if it was all gone, I would grieve but I would create again. I would slowly begin again until my home was once again full of colour, mirrors, sparkles and wonder. It's about beauty of creation. It's about rooted joy and making a space be a little piece of heaven on earth. When I decorate, I pray and sing and take joy the entire time that my family will feel inspired and secure so that they can go out and serve and share. I pray that those that walk in, even if they blatantly dislike it, will feel God's peace lived out somehow. This is a practice I have done since I was a teen in my own little room. My space is my place to act out a bit of my soul, so that I can in turn, give and share. Which I do not expect others to know upon walking in...but I hope they feel it. To those that don't- I have come to realize that they need different spaces and people...and that is ok too. "No regrets baby, you go your way and I'll go mine- It's been a real good time...No regrets baby, I just think that maybe it's natural when things lose their shine, So other things can glow. I've gotten older, now I know how to take care of myself. I've found a deeper well." - Kacey Musgraves lyrics.

My Father in Law has a similar gift when it comes to occasions and tablescapes. I am astounded at how he will take such time for a table that will become messy within minutes. It's a beauty given over to be messed up and cleaned up within hours. I feel it's another lesson.

My daughter, in turn from watching her Grampy host Valentines each year, hosted a Galentines table at our home. She spent almost an entire pay stub on her decorations, gift boxes to send home, and food for all of her lady co workers. Because she wanted them to be seen. Because she wanted them to feel cared for on a holiday when many of them were alone. One gal stated, "Juils I have never in my life had something like this before, when someone made something so beautiful for me, and made me feel so loved by the decor and food."

In the series 'The Chosen', many times throughout the first few seasons, Jesus is seen eating, feeding and healing and praying in quiet places. In fact, most of his time on earth is documented in this way. Jesus is doing these tangible, ordinary, yet extraordinary, daily tasks while taking the time to make others feel SEEN, Beautiful and HEALED. We can do the same with what we have been given. My father in law has been given Martha Stewart abilities with feasts. My daughter is gifted with incredible generosity and thoughtfulness. I have been gifted a rooted home to share with a husband who is capable of transforming it into the best possible state it can be for hosting and living. We are not the best at meal making but we do what we can in varying phases. We share with what we are able. Imagine the possibilities if each person gave what only they can give...and shared in the beauty of what others give without jealousy or comparison?

It wasn't until last year that I even had a big enough table to share. So we ate in our tiny living room and shared anyway! Until one day God put it on both our hearts to re structure our house...because sometimes our events stretched our cozy walls. I do not state that God put it on our hearts lightly as I dislike throwing that phrase around. It takes a lot of prayer, intuition and discernment and sometimes God just lets us manage our own lives. But every once in awhile something becomes incredibly clear. Because both of us took time away to pray and came back with the exact same idea without speaking to each other at all prior to...and then funds happened in unlikely ways and we reused most of our  building materials, worked long hard hours on top of normal life as a family, created and became. My husband's mantra was, "If we build it they will come..." And yup, our home has been a rotating place with strangers from fully garbed priests to people we never met and will never meet again. Most of all, in our stage of life, our home is a place for young adults to hang out, sleep over between work shifts when the weather is bad, and host different happenings. We hope it's a place for them to feel secure, safe and inspired. Youth today have so much uncertainty and live a life that is often intangible online. We want a place that forces them mostly out of that in awe or wonder or comfort.

Sometimes pleasant surprises happen. Silly things. Moments that do not carry much depth or weight yet become jarring in the everyday. I have never wanted pink hair. It is pretty on other people, but I have never been inclined to try it. I was going for a purple/brunette highlight look but people see colour differently...and also sometimes hair reacts. Even my fix became unexpected ( in that I still see pink more than purple but I must see colour differently !) but I like it enough that I will stick with it for a few months or maybe it will become a new fav? Already my family has stated my attitude has become spicier and they fondly call me "Lil' pink" anytime I make a forthright statement. Unexpected fun because of a mishap. As much as I would love to control so many aspects, often life just happens... Remember that little less sass I was hoping for from my thirty birthday post? Pink hair and a decade later I guess it re surfaced. There are seasons to everything right? Ha! The colour of life is never boring. I'm learning (still at 40) that it's ok to also have fun with the unexpected. "Cuz I, I, I'm in the stars tonight. So watch me bring the fire and set the night alight. Shining through the city with a little funk and soul. So I'ma light it up like dynamite." - BTS Lyrics

Song Choice: Deeper Well- Kacey Musgraves

Dynamite- BTS

Medical PTSD/ Suffering and Spirituality

 “The body is the healthy persons faithful ally. The healthy person is allowed to BE their body and they make use of this  regularly. They ARE their body. Illness disturbs this assimilation. Our body becomes foreign to us.” ( The Psychology of the sick bed ) 

I have been accused of struggling with Gnosticism and while a quick google search shows me I am NOT Gnostic - I can see the merit in that observation. My medical history has had its share of trauma (in my twenties I went through many humiliations at hospitals. I’ve tried multiple avenues of healing. For the most part I’m over it but every once in awhile…) 

With chronic illness and my regular symptoms (exhaustion/ overwhelming random pain/ gastro pain and symptoms etc) it often feels like my body betrayed/ betrays me. If I suddenly experienced a “regular” illness on top of normal symptoms the pain is exaggerated . In turn it’s been normal for me to dissociate from my body when it begins symptoms of illness or when I’m in a flare. ( See THIShttps://aboutibd.com/category/podcast/ podcast for more about PTSD or PTS in chronic conditions.) 

“This feels like an assault - this is dirty, bad, gross, I’m unattractive… the list goes on with certain procedures.” ( enimas, barium’s, stool tests etc) “With medical PTS you can be over utilizers or under utilizers of the medical system due to this.” (Taken from HERE) 

I used to be an over user of the medical system in my twenties which often made my life worse in general. Now I’m an under user. I actively avoid medical situations whenever possible. It didn’t help that my Grandma lived with us and lived with multiple surgeries, pain, pouches and pouch infections and hospital stays that I witnessed from the time I was little. I was sick constantly as a child due to multiple illnesses. I had undiagnosed autism and the sensory / undiagnosed celiac (I haven’t touched gluten in over 14 years and don’t miss the extreme sickness that eased after year two of avoidance) / anemia and heavy periods from age 12 onwards/ undiagnosed fibromyalgia pain and diagnosed IBS … which was the only answer at the time the Drs. could give me. In fact, I recently requested IBS was taken off my chart as I know I have it, but when Drs. take notice that’s usually all they blame. It becomes the focus and most times that is not the reason I am in their office. However, out of all my chronic conditions, GI issues cause the most pain, humiliation and invasive procedures (more so than the multiple reproductive issues and procedures I had.) 

“Learning how to be in your body without wanting to scream and run away.” Source 

I laughed when the podcast suggested couples therapy with one’s own body: that actually sounds helpful. I find that generally healthy individuals have a tough time understanding this concept. My husband is healthy. He has watched me go through many years of procedures, pain and suffering. He has been my advocate and my ally. Yet, he still can’t fully comprehend why, at the first sign of a gastrointestinal illness I check out. He doesn’t fully comprehend why I can’t just allow myself in gratitude to have fellowship with my body on most days. He doesn’t understand my crippling low self esteem when I’m dealing with a new symptom. He doesn’t understand why I feel I always need to be prepared (shaved/ looking put together/ clean) in case I’m taken to the hospital. He is aware that it’s a constant battle for me, he often mentions my strength and endurance, but he is baffled why I can’t just accept a flu bug for what it is and move on easily. 

After all, that’s what he does. 

He doesn’t have lingering flare ups for months after. It doesn’t trigger unpleasant memories of being in his body while he was picked at and prodded or getting ready in the cold surgery room. He doesn’t have memories of being so sick with no end in sight of relief and no answers from medical staff. He can’t comprehend my knowledge of most antibiotic names and side effects or pain meds because he wasn’t tied to an IV multiple times for over a decade. He doesn’t understand that even in sickness I have to look calm and logical because I had a history of most Drs. blaming pain on me and anxiety instead of looking into actual causes. This in turn made me distrust myself even when I was right. It also contributed to my dissociation with my body. He doesn’t fight sensory problems unless he has a migraine. If I was him - I wouldn’t fully understand either. No one likes to be sick or have the stomach virus but for people who already deal with daily gastrointestinal pain and issues - it can feel like a dragon is setting fire to an already charred house. 

I’ve been told I handle death astoundingly well… in conjunction with darker human emotions. I don’t think I would handle the death of my immediate family well to be honest. However, it’s true that I have a certain steel when I need to step up and help someone else through grief or through the journey of the unknown. But in myself? I bury my grief deep. Deep down where the humiliation and shame of my body live, my grief knots itself into tiny barbs. These try to re surface when I’m sick with an unknown virus. It can take me days to recover mentally once my body recovers. Books or movies that normally would only bother me a bit, suddenly create a chasm of confusion and anxiety. I suddenly drown in an outpouring of emotion and stand confused as a few tears slip down my face. Shocked at my leaking eyes I think, “Uh oh K you don’t understand yourself again. Your body is leaking emotion. Disassociate more. Don’t encompass the pain or you’ll break. Compartmentalize! Deal! Move on! Serve others in your pain! Don’t over share … oh you already did? You sent that emotional text? Joke about it. Retract! Retreat! Send a strong message next time  or serve a need for them next. Don’t be a burden in your pain. You tend to verbally over process in distress. Picture yourself outside yourself.” 

It sounds insane on paper but this post is probably for the people who understand this type of insanity. You both ARE and ARE not just your body. Just like we ARE and ARE NOT our emotions. We are Spirit and Flesh. We are Imago Dei. We are the beauty of humanity… of course, of course, but we also still have to grapple with trauma, betrayal, the unknown, pain, and misery. 

I admire people with chronic illness because they are coping with all the hardships of normal life while being housed in an instrument that doesn’t always work. They have to walk the fine line of not allowing the pain and trauma to define them, but also not ignoring their body’s cues for exercise or rest or nutrition. They have to push through pain to BE. But they also have to acknowledge limitations. They won’t always be understood and most of the time their suffering will be unspoken so they can live their best lives without the spotlight of another’s judgement. They are heroes of their own ecosystem that consistently tries to undermine them. They are broken but generally this makes them healers for others because of their relationship to pain. They tend to be seekers of the spiritual truths… because at least that isn’t fully defined by their body. ( Thus the accusation of Gnosticism depending on that degree.) They live without full healing but are so grateful for any tiny easement of pain. 

They are the ones reaching for the hem of His garment. They are often the ones who cry out, “Rapha! Healer! Please Be here.” They can often be the ones who catch glimpses of God so clearly. In suffering Christ is there. At the toilet bowl when all else fades into the background. In the bed when pain is so great they are curled into a ball. On their knees begging for understanding when a scary new symptom surfaces. Stopping to breathe Yahweh - in and out. God is in the breath. God IS the breath. God is in the next right thing. God is suffering alongside. God comforts in strange ways. Mystery unfolds. Pain sufferers tend to have a tentative grasp with mystery. God speaks quietly. God holds and sometimes he even heals … though not often in the way we think. Despite that God IS. We are Imago Dei. We, though terribly broken and often in confused pain, are also beautiful precious vessels of unique BEING. It may not always be the answers we want but it’s the answer that IS. It’s that moment on the Chosen (season three) when the bleeding woman reaches so desperately for the hem of Jesus garment. It’s when he turns and asks her to speak for herself so he can acknowledge her and claim her as daughter. It’s the image of that story that mirrors the biblical account and shows the desperation and beauty of being SEEN in all humiliation, isolation, misunderstanding, misery and pain. We are not alone. Even in suffering. Don’t lose hope. 

Song choice : hallelujah Even Here - Lydia Laird: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jc-WPCQs6RI 

If anything take the song below from this post:

I adore this song!: Mother to A Saviour and King (obviously I’m not Mary but the tone of this song - the searching/ seeking/ choosing to still believe and follow/ being Known… that’s relatable. I also find it incredibly beautiful and vulnerable and my eyes fill up each time I watch her singing in that stunning orange dress in nature to God.)https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=s6qN8PMKGcY 

Bonus: the most touching commercial I’ve seen in a long time: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xnZGEUA4oBk

Post script: when my husband was running my healing bath I asked him to put on my Spotify playlist called When I Can’t Love Myself … he started chuckling and responded, “yes my enneagram Four.” And then I realized yea I guess that could come across as having a flair for the dramatic … I just call it normal - it sounded like the right title at the time ! Ha ha